When the Rain Pours

December 20, 2017
By Nathantan BRONZE, Albuquerque, New Mexico
Nathantan BRONZE, Albuquerque, New Mexico
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Rain, little drops of water fall from the sky every now and then. Everything about it brings back memories. Memories of those days, memories of him. Every drop of rain was a forgotten memory splashing down on my mind after years of neglect. I was a poor town boy, an only child, mom did everything she could to protect me at the cost of her own life. I was from a man who drove his wife to death, brought us into poverty and stole anything he could get his hands on. I was living in prison, the only thing I could see was a patch of sky through a small hole in the ceiling. Every now and then the sky would turn grey and water would pour through the little hole. It drowned out the yelling and the sound of smashing bottles, but I didn't care; it was just another sound to me; that's all it was.
I guess you don't really know what makes you happy until its gone. When my father grew ill I had the job of going out of town to get his medicine. I remembered all the stares I got as I walked through the town square; they saw all the cuts and bruises. I was scared of them; I thought everyone was like my father. I remember a man approached me and spoke softly almost a whisper.
  “Where you going son?” I was afraid of what was going to happen. His eyes locked in with mine and I can still feel the shock that went down my spine.
  “That's alright, when you are ready,” he said patiently. I stuttered when I told him that I was going to the next town to get medicine. He looked surprised that a boy of my age was about to walk that great of a distance. He got up and the next thing I remember was my vision going black and the smell of cologne filling my nose. Tears poured from my eyes as I felt a warm embrace wrap around me. It was the first hug I had ever had and it felt good to feel cared about. The tears had blurred my vision but when it returned the man was gone and the only thing left behind was his grey suit jacket that was wrapped around my cut up body. The suit was the symbol for my hope, for a new life where I could be something more. But, dreams are just imaginary nothing to them, we work hard to accomplish them but in the end my dreams never mattered nothing about me ever did. I had a dream to become the man in the grey suit, someone that wanted to help others live a good life. I wanted to make a difference, to give kids that suffered a new chance.
Though things never happen the way you think, without knowing I followed in my father’s footsteps. Well, I guess like father like son. I made the same mistakes and payed for them.  Now I sit in a prison cell as the rain pours through the small hole in the ceiling just as it did all those years ago, thinking about how life would have been like if things had turned out a little differently. If my father had been there for me, if I had been there for my daughter, what could have I done differently?The very question that will remain unanswered, it had never mattered in the first place. I was good for nothing just like the man before me. But, that was in the past, the only thing I can do now is sit and watch the rain pour over the city as my little girl is somewhere out there, scared, cold, without a mother or a father.

The author's comments:

I’ve seen a lot of people on the news or near me that have suffered from physical abuse. There are even friends of mine that have been hit by their dad. So I wrote this piece to show that life has a way of changing quickly. We can start out poorly and things can get better but it’s not consistent. 

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