It was day, but from the gray clouds looming ominously overhead, it looked like the sun had disappeared and the world was left in a cold, bleak, and abandoned state. Rain falling against the concrete, creating puddles and splashes as the people bustled around with urgency.

The rain felt heavy, splashes rather than drops that continued to slam against anybody who was caught in it. Still, even as it all came down, it still didn't stop me from going out in the open cold air and feeling the sting.

It burned, it hurt, and it made me sick, but I didn't stop moving forward. I continued because if I stopped, I would fall; I didn't listen as the people around me talked, reached out for me, because if I did, I would have screamed; I didn't look back because if I did... he would look at me with those cold eyes of his, and everything that had happened from the day we met would have come crashing down and further pushing the knife deeper inside me.

It was from the frosty air invading my lungs, bringing more pain to me, biting into the bloody spots littered over me, that I finally stumbled on my feet. The puddle only made the tumble worse, my knees harshly colliding against the wet cement and my bloody hands flat against the ground.

My body couldn't get up, too tired to go any further.

A name.

Someone was calling that name, a name I knew yet could no longer feel lingering attachment to. Through the splashing rain and bustling crowd, the voice persisted until hands finally took hold of me, forcing me to straight up until I was finally face-to-face with the person.

And it was like the world went deathly silent, my eyes open but no longer seeing the person in front of me, not barely feeling their gentle hands framing my wet face, not being able to hear their voice.

Something warm slid down my cheek, the feeling only lingering for but a brief moment until intermingling with the cold air.

"Hey," I felt my mouth move, sounding loud and firm despite my entire body trembling. "Wanna hear something funny?"

They said nothing, but maybe it was because I was blocking out everything.

The words spilled themselves like a dam that broke and was flooding the whole area without seeming to stop anytime soon. My lips grew numb after awhile, my body grew tired and heavy from how soaked and how cold I was, and the stinging made everything hurt from all the rain coming down, but I still kept going. It felt familiar to be telling someone my story after so many years had passed, but instead of feeling lighter from letting it out, the weight kept piling on me until I was sitting flat against the hard ground. Finally, when I was done, I let my head fall forward and pressed myself against the body because the anchor that was my soaked clothes and tired mind became too much, shivering as the cold wind blew wildly around me.

"Life is so funny, isn't it?" I said, tired and almost lifeless. "Life is so funny to me."

Arms wrapped themselves around me, trying to shield me without hurting me. The hurt already happened, and there was nothing really there to shield me from the reality presented to my eyes.

I could feel their body shaking, I could feel their hands clutching against the bloody fabric of my clothes, and I could feel harsh puff of air against my cold ear. I could feel them doing something that I could not bring myself to do.

"Life is funny."

Under the rain, between the crowds, on the ground, in their arms, I let out a small broken laugh.

.

.

.

тяα∂є уσυя нєяσєѕ ƒσя gнσѕтѕ

.

.

.