Quiet Rain

• Charlea Simpson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2014

I sat on the cold, wet gutter as the rain came in mercilessly from above. My torn, black hoodie was pulled down low over my swollen face as my soaked black hair hung worthlessly over my shoulders. Like my hoodie, my jeans were torn, letting the freezing droplets of water slide easily onto my skin.

The fight had been brutal. I shouldn't have done it. But I did.

When I saw his hard hand collide with my older brother's face, I couldn't help the feeling of rage overcome me. I don't remember what happened exactly. It's all one big, messy blur. Memories battled theories inside my mind, where the truth was nowhere near being discovered. It was quite like a war actually.

My brother Jason was okay, no one else had laid a finger on him. Instead, they all sauntered away while he gently wrapped a reassuring arm around my painful shoulders. He then led me home and took me to the front door, but instead of going inside I walked across the front yard and sat down here. That part of the night I could clearly remember.

In an hour Dad would be home. He'd see the bruises that littered my body and would instantly know what happened. He had tried to get me help, for my anger. Therapy never seemed to help me though. He was so proud too, when I had gone a month with a steady level of self control. I had to go and ruin it though. I always have to go and ruin it. Maybe that's why Mum left.

Thunder boomed in the distance, it's echo bounding over the noiseless streets of the town. Its sound was so great, so loud, that it seemed almost invincible. But that's when the lightning comes. Putting whatever magnificence the thunder beheld in small perspective.

I turned around as it lit up the darkened sky. As I thought, Jason was sitting at the window. He knew to leave me alone in times like this, but he was always there just in case I did something stupid.

It went against all my natural instincts, but I stood up and looked down the road. There was a car coming, dim headlights lit the way down the street. It was close, so close that I only had seconds to make the impulsive decision of whether or not to step out onto the slippery road.

The tyres sprayed me with muddy water as it whizzed past my unmoving figure, only stopping at the corner where it made a sharp turn left. I slowly exhaled and stuck my hands in my pockets for warmth.

Slowly, I strode across the uneven ground to reach my front door, which had been opened by Jason. He was leaning against the frame with an understanding look clearing showing in his hazel eyes. I ran and flung my arms around his torso, with him returning the hug. Then I realised, this was my home. Where I truly belong.