The city was dead and silent around me, only broken by the insistent tapping of rain and the periodic rumble of thunder. And ironically, my world became more hospitable because of it. The sky was singing. No running. No hiding. No heavy, shrieking silence. I merely counted raindrops and watched them on their rapid race to nowhere, my eyes following their path across the faded wood of the bench where I was sitting, for lack of something else to do with my time.

One…

It must have been quite the sight, but nobody was there to stare at the girl-woman sitting on a chipped green park bench in the middle of a rainstorm.

Two…

And maybe it was better that way.

Three…

But if they had been looking, they would have seen drenched curls swaying around a pale face, twisting into dark coffee eyes. They would have seen the way she sat, still and listless, with her legs pulled tightly into her chest. They would have watched her fingers tap an idle tune on the rotting wood with pity in their eyes, wondering why she was merely sitting there, letting the rain wash her away.

Four…

And they would have been right to wonder.

I smile rancorously to myself.

They would always wonder, and they would come close, but never quite close enough.

But who could.

Not anymore. Never again.

Five…

But, maybe they would fail to notice.

People have the uncanny ability to ignore abnormalities, and to a greater extent, the problems and conditions of the people around them.

And what was I but somebody else's problem?

And even if they did notice, I would have to persuade them to care, and that would only last a moment.

Charity is a fool's boon. It is never really free.

Everything has a price.

Nothing is too high.

Supply and demand.

Want or Need.

Six…

I let those thoughts fly away, in favor of ones less volatile.

I try, even if I know they are still stored somewhere in my head, waiting to catch me unawares before attacking my already fragile mentality.

Happiness is fleeting.

They always reminded me of moths for some reason. The white ones with holes in the wings, appearing to flutter around without any decipherable pattern. The ones that always slip through the seams and catch you off-guard.

Those creatures that remind you life is a cruel impatient thing.

Seven…

My eyes turned up to the rain, letting it run down my face.

Eight…

I had always loved it, the rain. Even when I hadn't realized it.

Raindrops are memories.

Nine…

And is it so wrong to want a small comfort as you say goodbye?

Ten…

When I was eighteen, I wanted drops of Jupiter. I wanted to fly away.

Now I only want the rain to take away my color. Take away my space.

I want my sins to be erased.

Eleven…

If only it were as easy as simply being washed away.

Twelve…

My smile was sad and bitter, one of a girl who has seen too much and too little. Of a dreamer that woke up too quickly. Of a teenage girl who believed love would conquer all.

Thirteen…

And yet, I was done crying. I had been for a while. All that is left is a lingering exhaustion and the last flickers of determination.

I can't even cry.

Not anymore.

And somehow, that hurts the most.

Fourteen…

And so I was ready.

Fifteen…

I felt the fire burn in my eyes, filling my body with resolve. This potent liquid courage. My back straightened and my neck stretched until my head was held high. My legs uncurled from my body and touched the ground.

Sixteen…

My hands unclenched and I stood slowly, gracefully, and walked away.

Seventeen…

The trees created a cage around the area, ominously draping over my head and encompassing my vision. I slipped in among them, weaving my way through the twisted maze, caressing the trunks with farewell waves.

Eighteen…

The sky was dark and the world seemed faded somehow. The only sound was the tune created by the crash of the thunder, twisting its way around the harmony of the drumming rain.

Nineteen…

My feet found their own path through the endless expanse of wood and leaves, moving silently, carefully. I had learned my lesson the first time. Listen. Wait. Never make the first mistake.

Twenty…

I trailed my hand along the rough bark, knowing the rain would wash my trace away. Not that it would matter. It wouldn't be long.

Twenty-one…

I continued walking, my soft sigh lost in the howling wind.

Twenty-two…

The air thickened around me and the silence seemed deafening. Heavy tension stilled the wind and I was suddenly breathing water. Tension was closely related to humidity, it appeared. The small crazed smiled leaked across my lips. Why not?

I accepted it easily; I no longer had the time to question everything. So, I decided to play the game.

I paused, leaning against a tree, simply waiting. Watching. Knowing something more was out there. There always seemed to be. One last piece on the board.

Twenty-three…

The quick burst of light from the sky illuminated his body. My smile twisted. He was just on time. One raindrop for each year of my life. I can stop counting now…stop counting. The relief was overwhelming. I could stop counting.

I knelt, my knees digging into the muddy path, and waited.

I didn't hear him. I didn't see him. I wasn't expecting to. So I just waited.

I didn't flinch when he reached to touch me. Not even when his calloused palm cradled my jaw.

His touch was gentle, tilting my face to look at him. Always a game.

Neither of us expected the diminishing grain of defiance that caused me to lock my gaze at his feet.

He was wearing black boots. The toes were scuffed.

He once more lifted my chin, and this time, my eyes met his.

His hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, water running down his expressionless face, giving me a plain view of his swiftly-darkening, burgundy eyes.

And yet, I wasn't scared. My heart beat steadily and my breathing stayed even. He should have scared me. I knew this. He radiated danger, power, authority, and something I couldn't place.

And I didn't care.

I was no longer naïve enough to believe in happy endings.

I was just resigned.

I could not escape, and it hadn't even crossed my mind to try. It would only make it more painful in the end.

So I didn't blink under his scrutiny. I refused to break from his capturing eyes.

He took my hand and helped me to my feet.

I don't know what he was looking for, but he must have found it. I could almost see the smile.

He pulled me towards him until my chest touched his. I couldn't free myself of his heavy stare, even if I wanted to. I simply continued to look at him.

He smirked lightly at my steady gaze and lent in slowly, waiting for me to react, not making a sound. I kept my face straight and held still, simply standing as I was. I could feel his low chuckle reverberate in my chest, a soft rumble that I could barely hear. He ran his nose softly down my neck, and my eyes slipped closed. I relaxed in the cage of his arms. Maybe it would be easy, exactly like the rain washing me away.

There would be no fight and he knew it as well as I. But it would be over soon.

He knows the ending of this story. I had known as soon as he appeared.

It is like reading the last page of a book only after reading the very beginning. I have no regrets, but I wish I could have found out what happened in the middle, what drove the story.

All I have left now is a burning curiosity and an easy comfort that fight against one another.

I know which is losing.

His hand rubbed gently up and down my side, both soft and rough. It was a contradiction that fit him perfectly. I felt his lips touch the throbbing pulse point in my neck, simply resting there. His other arm wrapped around my body, resting his hand on my lower back.

I tilted my neck to the side in an offering.

It was because I had never had a chance, not even from the very beginning. Never.

I was already dead, it was just the technicalities left.

And so I offered.

I felt his smile against my skin and I waited. The hand that was rubbing my side snaked up and wrapped itself in my hair. He sucked at my pulse point until the vein came to the surface of my translucent skin and placed a soft kiss against it.

I did not know his motivation or purpose, but it will at least be a bittersweet death. I will die in a lover's embrace, wrapped in the arms of a stranger.

I felt his lips part and I let out a soft sigh as his sharp teeth pierced my skin. No more anticipation or anxiety. No more waiting. I could feel the blood leaving my body, weakening my limbs. Soon his arms were all that kept me upright.

I could feel myself drifting away as his lips parted from my neck. I offered him a small weary smile and found enough will to touch my hand to his cheek in a parting gesture. I was fading fast and I knew it.

I could never repay him for making my death an easy one, a pleasant one.

It was a death fit for a fading girl, a girl who sits on a bench at the park in the middle of a rainstorm, a girl who can still remember a foolish teenager and a broken promise. A girl who wanted the rain to wash her away.

My hand fell from his cheek and I simply collapsed into his arms, the smile still on my face.

It would be all right.

I felt the last unshed tear slide down my cheek and drop to the ground to mix with the rain.

It would be all right.