trickling

A Story by yessica

A girl runs into the reality of her world.

She picked up her feet. “Left right left right, gotta keep it up. Right left left right no damn it!” She stops and indignantly leans on a splintered wooden fence. She looks up at the sky, aware of only the rain choking her, falling up her nose. “So strange, so strange” she thinks, “that rain should do that.” She halts a broken down train of thought. She locks herself in the moment, in the water, the moisture, the wetness all around her. The clothes stick to her thin skin. Her hair plastered to her face, strangling her. She thinks of all the wrong things. She can’t really think of anything. But yet she thinks of everything around her. Feels the groggy ground under her steady legs, feels the leaves on her numb fingers, feels the snot and tears trickling into her insensitive mouth, all as if someone else entirely were touching them. Falling on her knees. She notices someone else’s pants get soaked as they hit the ground, someone else’s body slump over, someone else’s palms get bloody. Strange scratchy clammy hands reach up and explore her face.

She sits. She doesn’t want to do anything else. She’s tired. So tired. She’s given up on running on hiding on looking tough. She sits and she accepts what she feels. The water streams, runs, pours. Torrential showers that seem to have no stop. The reservoir of pain stabbing out from within her chest never letting the clouds drain out. She’s drunk and she’s dumped and she knows that this is the realest thing she’s ever felt. That there will be no prince in shining armor to lift her up and carry her home. No one comes to the rescue. No one takes you in. Looking crazy scary she sits. And she waits. “There’s no one in this world but me. There never was. There never will be.”