Rain

February the 14th:
The rain fell around us everywhere, softly at first then harder, louder.
The street now a haze of blurred, grey colours. The rain replaced my tears as I slowly turned to face him. That is how we met again since our old memories, in the rain.

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1. Rain

February 14th:

Thursday. Valentine's day from what I remember from my old life. This has no meaning, it's another day. Cold and misty. Wind biting through my thin clothes in the freezing London Winter. I rummage through my garbage bag full of supplies and pull out a tin. I eat full tilt, always used to the feeling of being hungry. Then I go back to sleep as if hibernating to survive in the winter.

My dream seems warmer than my usual dark nightmares, always the same. The freezing rain and hail bruising my pale skin as I stand alone, abandoned. The feeling of fear and frozen adrenaline as the hairs on my neck stand up, waiting, then darkness. That is my dream, my nightmare, but also a memory.  I wake up to see a thick blanket wrapped around me, an unusual act of kindness. This is what has made my dream warmer. I bury into it and fall asleep again, not awake enough or ready to understand that someone has given this to me. When I awake, I stand up and pace around the street I take shelter in, trying to warm up. I fall back into a pile in my blanket, every part of me weak. That's when I see a boy, tall, young and wearing a thick black hooded coat. He is looking up at the sky until he spots me, a poor homeless girl sheltering in an abandoned street in his eyes. But to my surprise he walks over to me and stands above me as I cower, ready to attempt to run away. But as he peers down, his eyes flash as if he's seen me before, and all of a sudden a memory fills my mind. Swinging on the old swing set in the forgotten playground with a curly haired boy. Back and forth, back and forth as the rusty chains squeak, old with the constant play and laugh of children, and the sadness of lonely adults finding a place to sit and swing slowly. "Harry" I gasp, at the same time as he says my name, Grace. He leans down and kisses my forehead as he pulls me up and stares into my eyes, no longer filled with the hope and laughter they were filled with in my past. I look to the ground as we both stay silent until he sings to me softly. A lullaby, our song. His voice fills me with memories, amazed that I had forgotten the voice of my best friend and boyfriend who had sang to me everyday. I was there when he went off to the X factor, the only time he had left me in a year because of what my father did to me. I watched it on the old television at his mother's house until my father found me. I watched all the screaming fans and watched as he got put in to band with the other boys, watched him sing for the judges. I knew he was famous now, but he would always be the old Harry that I spent my endless Summers with, the green eyed curly haired boy. He kept singing until the rain started, then he stopped. The rain fell around us everywhere, softly at first then harder, louder. The street now a haze of blurred, grey colours. The rain replaced my tears as I slowly turned to face him again. He kissed me softly on the mouth and then harder as the rain also got harder. I kissed him back, not afraid anymore. That is how we met again since our old memories, in the rain.

He took my hand and signalled for me to get my few belongings, asking with his eyes. Silence was our best communication, barely speaking unless we really needed to. Soul-mates, that's what we were. We understood each other as if we could read each other's minds. I grabbed the black garbage bag I had found one day, billowing in the wind. Such a simple, everyday object that had been saved and come to great use to me. We walked down the street slowly despite the rain and the freezing wind. To have each other's warmth was enough. I knew he must of been used to the warm rush of air from heaters, from the softness of a real bed and a duvet. He would of driven in heated cars, always had the thickest, warmest coats ever since his fame. But he didn't react as if spoilt and hypnotised by these things, he knew what it felt like to be cold and he was used to it.

 

 

 

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