Drops of Pain

People wait for the winter to ends, so they can go out and enjoy the spring's beautiful green gardens full of varieties of flowers and flying birds and butterflies. It's a beautiful sight to see after being tucked on a blanket or running with an umbrella so you won't get drenched from the rain. Well, I am a particular case here because I never waited for spring to see its beauty or to get rid of the gloomy feeling that surrounds the winter. I'm not too fond of winter since all it brings me is PAIN.

Now I am looking at the dark sky that informs about the full of rain clouds coming soon. The school bell rang, announcing the end of the school day. But for me, I just woke up from my afternoon nap.

Getting out of the school properties, I passed by all these fancy, expensive cars. Kids in our school are such show-offs. I am attending Chicago Elite high school, where only elite kids can go there. I got here by my brain, not money. Being wealthy for these kids means having a driver to take me where their moms' orders. I am good with buses because they don't have the mother's GPS and the driver's eyes following me.

I am Sarah, yeah, not an American-like name. Well, I was born here, yes but, my mom is African-Arabic, and my dad is Australian. I got the name from my mom. An Arabic name means happiness and joy, which doesn't suit me at all.

I am 18 years old, and I am a senior in high school. Since this school is full of rich, spoiled, and stupid students, no one made an effort to top my first rank ever. I am always the first. I can skip grades and be in university now but, no rush. I enjoy my sleeping in classes, and I'll keep it like that, plus university is not for me. When I graduate from high school, I'll get the right to run my father's company. The one that his friend and the woman called mother me run currently. It won't last forever; I'll get it eventually.

My school rank was never the thing that makes kids at school hate me. I am a witch in their eyes for many reasons. First, my eyes are colored Indigo, which is rare. Last, guys these days like the cold and strong girl, I get rid of them with my punches. And girls think that I've put a spell on their crushes, so they hate me to the core.

The bus takes a bit of time to get to the station. I put on my earphones and played some rock music.

With a gasp of breath, I woke up. What the hell? I looked around, and I was in my room. It's happening again!

I was waiting for the bus. At that time, a raindrop touches my hand and, in an instant, causing a clench in my chest. It started hurting to the point that I feel my heart is reaping apart, and I couldn't breathe. I had the solution to get rid of the needles pressing on my heart, but I can't give a show to the bus people.

I run under the rain with all the speed my legs can give. This pain in my chest accompanied me my whole life, yet I can't get used to it. Every time feels like it's my last day, and it always happens when it rains. See, I have a pretty solid reason to hate winter and rain. Whenever it drops, I get that feeling of something was taking from me and replaced by rain.

The solution I found is not the right one, but it helps to numb the ache. I sat at a bench in a nearby park and took the icy material from my backpack. The action made me flinch for a second, but I smiled after I saw the blood drops in the ground slowly.

Yes, it is to harm my wrist with a razor. It's the only way I can numb what's going in my chest since no kind of sedative can work anymore. It's a dumb and cowardly move, but it's the only practical way after trying many things that didn't work. Some made it even worse. Slowly, I started to feel unconscious until I blackout and found myself next in my bed. And it happened before.

**

"Darling, you're awake? Are you awake?" Is she for real? The woman that had me enter this room?

"What are you doing in my room?" I ask, not looking at her. She hadn't get in here from the day we moved in. Well, she is supposed never to do.

"I was worried about you," Pft worried. "A boy brought you here. He said he saw you fainted after the rain, and I guess it's because of a high fever from the rain. Sweety, take medicine. They're at the nightstand table and change your wet clothes. Take care of yourself next time before you faint," Is she scolding me now? For real? She's the one that stopped talking to me because I acted rudely to her once, and I was in a critical state. Now, I am here, sweetie? What a joke!

I stayed looking at the door; she just shut. She married her ex-husband's friend after only a week of his death. And when I voiced my feelings of betrayal, she just left me. What a mom or wife she is? Or may I say she was?

Anyway, she's not worthy of bothering me. I am thinking about this guy that brought me here. It's the second time I find myself lying in bed after closing my eyes. No one brought me before. I always stay in the park until I wake up. It is near my house, but no one goes there. Rich people will never let their kids play in a place full of dirt. It'll ruin their image. I've always found peace there. I feel like it's a home, more than the house I am living in now.

An average person would call 911 when he sees a girl lying on a bench with her hands full of blood. But, instead, I find my cuts cleaned and my hands under the sleeves of a black hoodie. Now, I have two hoodies with white wings on the back. HIS HOODIES!

Who are you? How do you know where I live? Why you helped me? Will I get answers to these questions?

After minutes of spacing out, I noticed that my closed are all wet under the dry hoodie, so I had to change to not get cold for real this time. I went to my closet; the hoodie was dry, so I hang it next to the similar one. I took a sports bra, shorts and wore them.

"Big sis, where are you?" "Sarah, where did you go?" two voices echoed in the room. I instantly smiled, hearing their cute voices.

"Aiden, Nadia. I am in the dressing room". I heard a mixed voice of steps with a sobbing sound. "Babies, why are you crying? Sister is okay."

The two ginger headed kids were more than step-siblings to me. I always wanted siblings, and we can't hate beautiful, innocent kids because of their parents. They're the only thing that helps me stay sane at this house.

I pulled them into a hug, and they squeezed themselves on me like I was back from death. "Big sis, when the prince brought you here, you were sleeping and wet. I was scared," Nadia said with a low voice. "What prince you're talking about, Nadia?" I was confused for seconds, but it clicked in my mind what the little girl wants to say. So, she calls him a prince. Seeing the excited boy next to me, I kept a confused look on my face. He likes to give explanations and show how smart he is.

"I'll tell you! In the stories my mom told us, the prince is the hero that helps the princess when she's hurt. So, you are the princess, and the big bro that brings you is the prince".

"You guys are so cute," I said, ruffling their hair. "But it's time for bed. Give me a goodnight kiss and go to your beds". They gave me the sweetest kisses ever and run to their room. I took medicine as a precaution to not get the cold, grab a book to read, and get on my bed.

**

Come here, little bunny. I won't hurt you. Let's have fun together", He said, taking steps forward her. She is a little girl, so afraid and frightened girl. "Please leave me alone you're a scary uncle" The girl pleaded to step back every time his hand touches her skin.

"Scary uncle, huh, so let's see what this scary uncle can do."His hands reached her dress and rip it; you can see her bare skin.

"Oh no, no, please stop, please."

The second the little girl close her eyes, I opened mine. It's always the moment I wake up. I was sweating hard like someone put me in an oven and, at the same time, trembling like I was in a freezer for hours. My throat was sore from yelling at my sleep. Perks of choosing a faraway room from any other one, no one can hear me getting tortured every night.

I couldn't save her again. I was as a ghost watching her getting raped by a monster who's heartless even to consider that she's a little girl. I am sick of this dream. I can't also see his or her face. I want to know from where it comes. Why am I watching it over and over? It's tearing me apart to watch this scene. I feel it's real. Did I saw it in real life before? Who is this girl?

I started to have this dream at twelve years old. At that time, my dad will run to my room and hug me until I go back to sleep. He'll cuddle me all night and wake me up with pancakes for breakfast. He never gave me an answer to my questions, but I didn't mind at the time. Now that he's not here, my bed is always cold. I consider the dream, the pain from the rain, and the darkness following me as a punishment from God for killing my father. It's a way to adjust to life as mine.