Rainstorm

one

Starting the book off with a sad chapter. Sorry :'l you'll just have to suffer ig

Tw: underage drinking, suicide mention
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Rich's head hurts like hell. He sits on his bed, head in his hands, hunched over as rain splatters against the glass of his bedroom window. He just got home from the hospital. And he never expected life to be this difficult.

His face is scrunched up in pain, tears burning in his eyes as he takes shaky breaths. Why him? He doesn't want this. He never wanted any of this. Life fucking sucks.

The squip fucked him up way more than he expected. Yes, he's injured from the fire and that complicates everything ten times. And he has PTSD from the fire and the squip. But there are other things too. He can barely function anymore, unable to even complete simple tasks. The squip helped him with everything. He could try to replicate it, but everything he did was mindlessly, trusting the squip to do it all for him.

He had a therapist, during his hospital stay. She tried to help him, but he could barely even speak to her. He was terrified, for one thing, and clammed up. And he'd found out quickly that his lisp had returned, just fucking great. But the most difficult part: he hadn't had a real conversation in two years.

When he was getting ready to leave, signing papers and shit, one of the doctors said he should look for a therapist outside of the hospital to go to. He nodded, his default response since he didn't want to talk. But of course he knew he'd never get a therapist. His dad is already probably gonna kill him over the hospital bill, he doesn't want to add to that with paying for a therapist.

If only he'd died in the fire, like he intended to. Then he wouldn't have to go through all this torment in his brain. He wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of his decisions. He knows he deserves to see what he's done and suffer the consequences. But he doesn't want it.

Suddenly, a wave of pain washes through his skull. He gasps and lets out a broken sob, curling up on his bed. Hot tears sting his eyes. It's too much. It's too much for him to handle. Rich squeezes his eyes shut and his hands form fists in his hair, like it might make the pain go away. But it doesn't.

With shaky hands, he reaches for the pill bottle on his dresser. Painkillers. His burns fucking hurt; he was told they'll most likely hurt for years. But the painkillers won't wash away all his pain.

He needs some water, he can't swallow them dry. So he stands up and stumbles downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After he swallows the pills, he finds himself grabbing a bottle of his dad's beer, too. Make everything a haze. That'll solve his problems, right?

For now, maybe. For this moment, at least, it's got to.

He doesn't know how else to cope with the battle in his head. He doesn't know much of anything. He knew everything while he had the squip. The whole world was at his fingertips. At least, that's how it seemed at first. Until he realized, while under the influence of the computer, he was far more trapped and limited than everyone else.

Now he has questions swirling in his head, waiting for answers. He has to make his own decisions now. How will he survive returning to school? That's a question that's been in the back of his mind ever since he woke up in the hospital. What's his schedule again? Oh my god it's already December? He has so much work to catch up on. And he definitely can't talk to any of his old friends, he'll make a fool of himself. Which means he needs to blend in, hide. Channel freshman rich, that's it.

Freshman Richard Goranski. He misses that kid. Two years ago, all he wanted was to escape. Now he'd give anything to go back. Go back and tell himself, 'See? Look what you've done. You don't want to end up like me.' To tell him to wait it all out, there are other options than taking an evil supercomputer from Japan. Rich would happily go back to when his only problems were bullies and his fucked up family.

The rain outside suddenly pours down harder, startling Rich out of his thoughts. For a moment, he forgets all his questions and problems. All he sees is the rain out the window, and hears the calming tapping on the roof.

He stands up slowly, walking to the window and pressing his hand flat against the glass. Everything's grey outside. There's no noise, no commotion. Only the rain.

Standing out in the rain. Looking up at the woman beside him, grasping her hand, and grinning. She smiles back, and her smile is the best smile in the whole world. It's just the two of them, standing out in the rain. They were the only ones "crazy" enough, as his dad and brother put it. Their hair and clothes are all soaked, but they don't care. None of that matters except this moment.

Rich snaps out of it. It's just fucking rain. Drops of water falling from the sky. It doesn't matter.

He heads back to his bed, pushing away the memories the rain brought. He wants the world to disappear for a moment, along will all the stress and frustration and pain and confusion.

Rich picks up the bottle he retrieved from downstairs and takes a sip. At first, his face scrunches at the taste. Then he takes another sip, and another, after a while feeling the world slip away into a haze.