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Chapter 6) Listen to the rain

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"If you don't trust me and listen you will remain in the shadows forever. No one will hear your hidden cries and you'll be left to face your self alone"

"Well in the shadows I'm safe, free, I have no where else to go. I'm a Vampire now and Vampires aren't accepted in the real world." Andres said staring at the ground.

"Like I said; there might be a curse that can be broken."

"There is no curse for Vampires! Once you're a Vamp you always will be one. So If Kafeli did die it would be one less powerful Vampire in the world." Andres exclaimed.

"How are you so sure of this?" I asked with full curiosity of wanting to know.

"Because I have read Vampire chronicles and heard many strange things in my short life."

"Well that doesn't mean anything. Their just books of made up stories and people lie."

"Well I believe them." He replied fast.

"I'm going to seek to prove you wrong and I don't care if you help me or not!"

"That's good for you" He said as got up and grabbed a black bag off of the chair."

"What's that?" I asked

"My back pack stuffed with broken dreams." He answered as tears drifted out of his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

He took out a note book and an album with photos in it.

"This is my drawing book. I wanted to become an artist because I love to draw."

I move a little closer to him. "Do you think I could see please?"

"Yeah sure...." He handed me the book and I flipped through in awe

His drawing skills were truly amazing. The details in each picture were perfect and carefully drawn. You could tell he took his time doing them, but the pictures were either sad or very disturbing.

One picture was a man holding an axe dripping blood in the shadows with heads lying on the ground in the rain. While another one was a clown crying, but if you saw his face he looked like he was in true pain and agony. It made me cry.

"You are very talented for a little boy and it seems like you have a lot going through your mind."

"You think so?" he looked surprised.

"Yes I know so."

"Thanks....everybody always criticizes them saying their too morbid and strange. They say true art is full of color and happy ness."

"Who said that?"

"My parents....You want to see them?" he said taking out 20 bucks.

"Sure....but why do you have all of these things in here? It looks like you were going to run away.

"I was.....my home was getting a little too crazy for me." He said looking at a picture of a pregnant woman.

"How was it getting too crazy?"

"Well some time after my mom had her second baby she decided to beat me every night for some reason. My dad did nothing and if I asked him to make her stop he said "I can't do anything to help you son."

"I'm so sorry you poor thing."

"Well that's why I ran away. It just made me more independent."

I stared into his dark brown eyes and I could almost feel his pain. I stared down at the picture. "Is this your mom?"

"Yes and this is my dad" he said flipping pages.

We spent an hour talking about his problems and by the end of that hour he was in my arms crying.

"I'm so sorry.....for being so mean." He cried.

"No....you don't have to be sorry at all. It's not your fault" I said as it started to rain.

"Listen to the rain"...I said running my fingers through his hair, trying my best to comfort him.

We both lie down and fell asleep to the whispers in the rain.