The phosphorescent drops beat against the window, pounding relentlessly like monsters fighting for their food, begging to be let in like dogs left in the cold.
"Mommy, where does rain come from?"
"Rain is God's tears, sweetie. God is crying because His children sin."
Bitter, demonic laughter echoes, making my entire body tremble.
"Sweetie, they're going to take you to a magical place with unicorns and butterflies. There'll be lots of other children just like you, and you're going to have a lot of fun. They're going to make you all better, OK?"
No. I was fine. I looked at the wall, white plaster stained with beautiful red splatters. What had I done wrong? I felt something wet collect at the corner of my eyes. What was wrong with red?
No, there's not anything wrong with red. There's everything wrong with red. That's why I like it.
She lied. The place wasn't magical at all. There weren't any unicorns or butterflies. It was white, sterile, cold and sharp. There were needles and pills.
She lied to me.
But, she did me a favor. She showed me what it was like to truly hate. Everyone. Everything. To have astonishingly cruel thoughts race through your mind, to have your mouth contort into something faintly resembling a smile at the very thought of excruciating pain.
And I almost respected that.
But I didn't hate everything.
I loved the color red, the color of blood.
I liked rain, too.
The rain beat down on me, pounding me with the familiar relentless force that hit me right to the soul.
There was a flash of silver, and the pretty color red flowed to the ground.
She was wrong. Rain isn't God crying.
Rain is angels bleeding.