Rain.

Skrev denne her for et stykke tid siden, mens jeg sad og lyttede til regnen. :)

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1. Rain

   Rain. It’s starting to rain. I like the feeling of the wet drops on my cold skin. It makes me calm. It makes me feel safe. I take a lung full of air. Fresh air. It smells good… the rain. I can feel my heart. Thump thump. Thump thump. It makes me even calmer. I inhale the scent of this rainy world. The very world that I live in.

   The rain is the only noise around me. I feel like I’m in my own little world where no one can find me. No one is out tonight, except a young man running down the street, with his jacket over his head, in an attempt to avoid the rain and getting wet. Why? Why would someone want to annoy the rain? I like the rain. It makes me calm.

   I look at my hands. Somewhere over my head is a street lamp. I think it’s broken, because it’s blinking a lot, making my hands light and dark, light and dark all the time. The blood is almost gone. Thunder somewhere in the distance. I can still feel the cold steel in my hand. They are shaking… my hands. My heartbeat is growing, going faster and faster in my chest. The rush it gave. The feeling of having the balance of life and death in your hands. What a thrill…

 

   I cannot remember much of what happened, and it does not matter. All that matters now is the rain. I look up towards the heavens. Dark clouds are hanging in the sky, but it’s still a little bright. My clothes are soaked; the bench on which I’m sitting is creaking under me when I move. Above me is a big pine tree. The needles of the pine feel prickly against my cold hand. They’re still shaky. My heart is beating slowly. I don’t know what it is about the rain, it just calms me… whenever I’m upset or angry or sad I walk out into the rain. Just feeling it against my skin calms me. My fingers brush my lips. They are cold. I remember when they were warm. I remember the warmth of her lips… I have lost my love. I have lost the warmth of my lips. Nothing really matters anymore.

 

   They are coming for me. I knew it as soon as they turned the corner, and one of them looked at me. He looked surprised; like he did not expect to find me here, out in the open, on a rotten bench under a pine tree in the small park on the other side of the road. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t expect to find me here if I didn’t know me.

   Rain is all there is. I once heard that God is in the rain. Is that why it has this calming effect? I touch the pines needles one more time. I need to feel it, to know that I’m alive and this is reel. A man is coughing behind me. I do not look up; I already know who it is and what he wants.

   “Sir,” the man says and grips me by the wrist, “sir, you need to come with me. Get up please.” No. Go away. Leave me alone. I want to feel the rain.

   He pulls me to my feet, yanking softly in my arm. My hands start shaking again. Thump thump. Thump thump. And the rain… those are the only noises I hear… my own heartbeat and the rain.

   “Sir, you are under arrest of the mass murder of the Jenkins-family. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

   I close my eyes. Raindrops are falling slowly, as they were kissing my face. The rain is calm. I am calm.

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