Rain, Rain, Go Away | Teen Ink

Rain, Rain, Go Away

January 12, 2009
By Anonymous

The clock struck seven. “Late again,” Leah muttered to herself with not a hint of surprise. She shook her head in obvious disappointment as she continued to scrub the sole dinner plate in the mix of dish water in front of her. As her thoughts raced, her anger increased and her hands began scrubbing faster and faster. Because she was scrubbing so violently, the plate nearly shattered into pieces. Leah, however, didn’t care. She was busy trying to ignore the fact that she was only washing one plate again. Her husband hadn’t been home in time for her to put food on his plate in weeks.
As she finished her task, she glanced over at the empty space where he would have normally sat. Your mistake, she thought. Before she could do anything more than just stare blankly, the phone rang. She looked at the receiver for a few moments and considered answering. She knew who it was. She knew what would be said.
She answered anyway. “Hello.”
“Hey, honey.” It was her husband, just as she had anticipated. “What are you doing?”
“Washing the dishes,” she said monotonously. She spoke quickly and without thought or emotion, for the conversation between the couple had been the same ever since her husband’s office had hired a new secretary. “Missed you at dinner again.”
“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m all tied up at work again. We’ve just been so busy lately. I’ll be there for dinner sometime this week, I promise.”
“Okay, well see you tonight then I guess.”
“Alright, talk to you soon,” he answered, and immediately hung up. In that brief moment, Leah thought she heard the voice of her husband’s secretary, the only voice that had the power to change her completely. Upon hearing the voice, such a change took place inside of her. For the first time in her life, Leah experienced hate.

A few nights later, Leah found herself in an alleyway that housed several apartments on the other side of town. Perched next to a garbage dumpster that stood directly in front of the address written on her hand, she took notice of the weather. That night, the rain was pattering onto the ground in perfect rhythm. She watched in envy as the drops vanished into the asphalt, without thought, without reason. Those drops which fell and fell and fell lived their short lives with no sense of worry, regret or hate. They served out their purpose without interacting with each other, and without experiencing the negative emotions necessary to living. Leah refused to let the hatred she felt in the deepest sanction of her soul continue to be such a necessity. At least not anymore.

The rain continued to fall as the light continued to diffuse. It appeared to be around midnight. ‘Where is she?’ Leah dared to ask herself, knowing full well the answer. Only further enticing her own anger, she felt her passions consume every inch of her body. Her rage left no hair unturned. Her fingers begged to carry out the job she had hastily assigned them.

It wasn’t long before a human silhouette answered the question Leah had recently so foolishly inquired. There she was: The object of her deepest hate. Leah watched as she sauntered towards the apartment building she called home. ‘I know where you’ve been,’ Leah thought. The rain splashed against the woman’s knee high boots and stained her ruby red lips. ‘I know what you’ve done.’

Following a few more raindrops and a few more sways of the woman’s hips, the woman finally walked passed the dumpster. Leah leapt from her position and instructed her fingers to fulfill their mission. They obliged, immediately taking hold of the neck that supported the embodiment of all that she despised. Leah watched as the woman’s pupils grew and her mouth struggled with shock. Noticing their rapid movements, Leah instructed her fingers to tighten. She could feel the muscles beneath her hands unsuccessfully attempt a scream. At this, Leah could only smirk.

Her attention again directed towards the face staring back at her. She stared into the eyes that had earlier stared into his. She looked at the lips that had so recently been alive with color, become pale and lifeless; the lips that had so recently been attached to his. She couldn’t help but wonder how pretty he would think the woman looked now.

The object of Leah’s hate made a final attempt at salvation. Somehow managing to have her arms do more than simply dangle at her sides, she attempted to grab Leah. But Leah refused to allow the same arms that had held him come into any contact with her. With this, she only tightened her hold. And with that, the object of her hate was no more. The raindrops had fallen on her face for the last time. Her lifeless body fell to the ground, and not a spark of remorse ignited within Leah. Instead, she took one final glance at the woman who she had so greatly detested, and a smile came across her face. The woman stole her life. She stole hers.

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