Tale

• Belicia Nadurata, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2014

There was only one time I've ever been in the rain.
I stayed in it and I loved the feeling. 'What is family?' I would ask myself. 'What is school? What is friends? What is a home? What is this thing they call love? Is it just an illusion?' I would completely drown myself in useless questions while curled up and my head in my knees. Without a purpose. A pathetic, useless lump of trash. The rain felt so good on my back. It hurt like bullets. Nothing new, of course.
I glanced at my wrist and finally stood up. I staggered through the pouring rain, being careful not to slip. God, how I wanted to die. But for the first time, I was free. Free to do anything I want. But I don’t know what I want to do. I passed by a closed second hand book store. I looked inside and saw some in the boxes on the ground. They were old and worn and waiting to be owned by someone. I smirked for a split second. The one’s that everyone wants are put up on the shelf and the discarded one’s get stored away. Kind of like me, I guess.
I kept on walking through the lonely street, occasionally glancing behind me to see if anyone was still there. No one. No one is ever there.
Where am I right now? I didn't care. No one cares. As long as I got out of that hell-hole of a place I somehow called home. I rested my chin my knees. I looked straight ahead and saw a set of five or so steps. At the top, a door. I sniffed and smelled garbage next to me. Making sure to not to sit on a dead rat, I shuffled over on the cold, wet concrete and leaned on the wall. I looked up at the grey and unforgiving sky and thought one last thing to myself.
Am I sad?
The door opened. I lowered my head and my eyes widened.
I guess not.