Raindrops

My latest and most fav story till now...


Looking 4wrd to ur comments... :)


<3


He remembered how she used to love watching the raindrops on the window pane. He watched the rain, raging rain. But inside him… there was nothing. No pain, no sadness, nothing. Empty. A void.








Racing raindrops, she called it. After a rain, she used to watch the tiny droplets of water on the window pane slide down the glass, becoming faster and bigger along the way, willing them to go faster. Her favourite game. But when it was like it is now, she sat watching the raindrops crashing against the glass. Watching, mesmerized, sitting by the side of the French windows, by the thin sheet that separated her from the raging storm.






He found watching the raindrops surprisingly soothing now. The drops crashing onto the glass had a beauty to them. A vibrant, rhythmic beauty. He had always thought that she was just spacing out, using the opportunity to day dream, whenever she said she was watching the raindrops. Each time he told her this, she told him that he'd understand someday. He hadn't even tried to understand back then. He understood now, but she wasn't around to see it anymore.






He looked up. There she was, sitting on the couch facing him, watching the rain. The pale moonlight made her look beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful. Her eyes, the ones she used to call plain and brown, they reflected the moon. He had always wanted to tell her that her eyes, they weren't plain, the were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. She wouldn't have believed him, he never told her. He tried to tell her now, but he couldn't move his lips. The door opened and the draft made her hair fly onto her face, hiding it form his gaze. He wanted to brush it away from her beautiful face, he wanted to touch her soft, smooth hair. He tried to lift his hand. It wouldn't move. Panic.






He opened his eyes, a scream trapped in his throat. His right hand was suspended in mid-air. It was just a dream, just a dream. Or… was it a hallucination? He let his hand fall onto the arm of the couch. It used to be her favourite place in the house. The arm of the couch, not the couch itself. Right beside him. Where she sat while it rained.






Rain. He turned to look at the rain. It had stopped, as far as he could see. Maybe a slight drizzle. He looked at the moon. Sought solace in its silvery glow. Found nothing. Nothing. Emptiness. Like inside his body and mind. A void. A black hole, sucking in the rest of him into himself. Emptiness. Like his heart had been buried in the casket with her.






Her casket. Plain black.. As it was lowered, her mother had collapsed and her father dissolved into tears. Everyone there had cried. The women, sympathized with her mother, took her pain as their own, cried with her. The men, her relatives, her friends, their classmates, tried to be the strong shoulders to cry on, then couldn't stop the flow of tears. Everyone watched with tears in their eyes, tear tracks on their faces. Everyone except him. Even now, he couldn't cry. His tears refused to fall. His brain couldn't accept the fact that she was gone, she was never coming back.






Emptiness. He looked down at his wrist. It would be so easy. He could just use the blade from his shaving razor. Just one slit on either wrist. Fast. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the horrible emptiness.She wouldn't have wanted me to die He turned his attention to the window pane. Trying to occupy his mind with something, anything. Droplets of water on the window pane. He focused his mind on one of the drops and silently willed it to fall, like she used to. A raindrop nearby slid down the glass and joined many others on a puddle on the window sill. He laughed. A short, hollow, almost bitter laugh. The first raindrop.






The first time he met her. First day of sophomore year, morning. She was a freshman. He bumped into her in the corridor. Even then, he was captivated by her beautiful eyes. Her eyes. The first thing he noticed. First. The first time he told her he loved her. He still remembered her smile when he said them. The way she blushed furiously when she told him she loved him too. He saw her in front of him, eyes shining. Leaned forward to kiss her.






His eyes refocused. He sat up and put his face in his hands. Slowly opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. He tried to keep a grip on reality. Hallucinations could not be a good sign. It couldn't be healthy. He shouldn't go insane.






If only he would cry Someone was saying something. A woman. His mother. He laughed again, short and bitter. If only he would cry. If only it were so simple. She had taken with her everything that was ever his. His heart, his love, his soul. He sat back, resting his head on the couch. He let the drowsiness wash over him. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. Sitting at her bedside, day and night. Everyone said she wouldn't survive but he couldn't stop watching her. He couldn't stop believing his fantasy, that she would miraculously become alright. He didn't stop believing that her cancer was just a bad dream, that he'd wake up and she'd be alright again. He still believed it. That was probably why he couldn't cry, why he couldn't move on.






He looked up at the clock. 1 am. 12 hours since the drama of the funeral. All those people who believed that she was gone, pretended that she was gone. All those people, crying, believing a lie. Liars. Deceived. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. That clock…






You turned the clock back didn't you?
No I didn't!
I know you did! Don’t lie to me! Stop laughing! Mom got so pissed the last time I got home so late!!!
I want you to stay.
She fell silent. A smile slowly crept up to her lips. She blushed, leaned down and hugged me. She is walking out of the room, so graceful, like she's dancing.
Wait! Don’t leave!
I have to stop her. I cant. I cant get up. I cant move.






Hallucination. Again. Or was it a dream? It could be a dream, should be a dream. He couldn't lose his mind, he shouldn't. she wouldn't have wanted him to.






Emptiness. One slit. No. The emptiness, that had to go. He got up and walked the length of the room. Came back. Sat down on a chair and looked at the window, the couch from a distance. She wasn't there. Finally, it hit him. She was gone.






Then the tears flowed. Freely, endlessly. The emptiness inside him, had been replaced by pain. He sobbed into his hands. Deep inside, he knew he was at a better place than he was earlier. Pain was better than the emptiness. It could be days, months, years before the morning he would wake up without having shed even one tear the night before, he smiled. For her. To let her know he loved her, to let her know that he was going to live. He got up and walked to his bedroom.






It started to rain again. The rain spattered raindrops on to the window pane.