Drops of pain

Content Warning

This book contains sensitive themes, including abuse and self-harm. These topics may be triggering or distressing for some readers. Please take care of yourself while reading and step away if you need to.

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People wait for the winter to end so they can go out and enjoy the spring’s beautiful green gardens full of varieties of flowers and flying birds and butterflies. It’s a beautiful sight to see after being tucked under a blanket or running with an umbrella so you won’t get drenched from the rain. I suppose I am a peculiar case, for I never waited for spring to reveal its beauty, nor for its promise to lift the gloom of winter. Winter, to me, has never been a season of quiet charm, only a bearer of pain.

Now I am looking at the dark sky that informs about the rain clouds coming soon. The school bell rang, announcing the end of the school day. But for me, I just woke up from my afternoon nap.

Getting out of the school properties, I passed by all these fancy, expensive cars. Kids in our school are such show-offs. I am attending Chicago Elite high school, where only elite kids can go there hance the title. I got here by my brain, not money. Being wealthy for these kids means having a driver to take them where their moms’ order. I am good with buses because they don’t have the mother’s GPS and the driver’s eyes following me.

My name is Sarah, which might seem unusual for someone who was born in America or id it? However, my mother is African-Arabic, and my father is Australian, so my name comes from my mother’s culture. In Arabic, Sarah means happiness and joy, but honestly, that doesn't describe me at all.

I’m currently 18 years old and a senior in high school. Unfortunately, my school is full of entitled, spoiled, and unintelligent students, so it hasn’t been much of a challenge to maintain my position as the top student. I could actually skip grades and go straight to university, but I’m not in a rush. I like to sleep in class and take things easy. Besides, university doesn’t really appeal to me.

Once I graduate from high school, I’ll have the opportunity to take over my father’s company. Currently, the business is being managed by one of my father’s friends and a woman who was once a mother to me. However, I know that eventually, the company will be mine.

My school rank was never the reason why kids at school hate me. In their eyes, I am a witch for several reasons. Firstly, my rare indigo-coloured eyes seem to draw their attention. Secondly, as guys these days prefer a cold and strong girl, I have to resort to using my punches to keep them away. Lastly, some girls believe that I have cast a spell on their crushes, which only intensifies their hatred towards me.

As I wait for the bus to arrive at the station, I put on my earphones and listen to some rock music.

***

As I gasped for breath, I woke up in my room. What the hell was going on? It was happening again. Later, while waiting for the bus, a raindrop touched my hand, and suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It was so intense that I could hardly breathe. I knew how to alleviate the pain, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself in front of the other passengers. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, seeking shelter from the rain. This pain in my chest had been with me for as long as I could remember, but I could never get used to it. Every time it rained, it felt like something was being taken from me, replaced by the downpour. That is the reason why I hate it. The solution I found is not the right one, but it helps to numb the ache. I sat down on a nearby park bench and pulled out an icy material from my backpack. Though it made me flinch for a second, I smiled after seeing the blood drops on the ground. Yes, it involved harming my wrist with a razor. It’s a dumb and cowardly move, but after trying many different things that didn’t work, it was the only practical way to numb the pain in my chest. Some things even made it worse. Slowly, I began to feel unconscious until I blacked out and found myself back in my bed. It had happened before.

**

“Darling, you’re awake? Are you okay?” I heard the woman’s voice and wondered how she had managed to get into my room. She wasn’t supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in my room?” I asked, avoiding eye contact. I hadn’t seen her since we moved in, and I didn’t want to talk to her now.

“I was worried about you,” she said dismissively. “A boy brought you here. He found you passed out in the rain, and I think you had a fever. Take these medicines and change your clothes. You should take better care of yourself.”

I stared at the closed door after she left. She had married her ex-husband’s friend only a week after his death, and I couldn’t forgive her for that. When I expressed my feelings of betrayal, she stopped talking to me. Now she was acting like nothing had happened between us. What a joke!

I shifted my thoughts to the boy who brought me here. It was the second time I had woken up in someone else’s bed. Usually, I slept in the park near my house. Rich people would never let their kids play there, so it was always empty. But someone had found me lying there with cuts on my hands. Instead of calling 911, they had cleaned me up and given me a hoodie to wear. I now have two of his hoodies with white wings on the back. HIS HOODIES!

“Who are you?” I asked, still trying to make sense of what had happened. “How do you know where I live? And why did you help me?” I hoped to get some answers soon.

After a few minutes of spacing out, I realized that my clothes were wet under the dry hoodie. I needed to change before I caught a cold. I went to my closet, hung up the hoodie, and picked out some dry clothes.

“Big sis, where are you?” I heard the voices of Aiden and Nadia, my stepsiblings. They were like real siblings to me, and their innocence and beauty helped me stay sane in this house.

I hugged them tightly as they sobbed, relieved to see me safe. Nadia told me about the “prince” who had brought me here and how scared she was when she saw me sleeping and wet. Aiden explained that in the stories his mom had told them, the prince was the hero who helped the princess when she was hurt. So, I was the princess, and the boy who brought me was the prince.

“You guys are so cute,” I said, tousling their hair. “But it’s time for bed now. Give me a goodnight kiss and go to sleep.” They kissed me goodnight and ran to their room.

I took some medicine to prevent catching a cold, grabbed a book, and settled into bed. Hopefully, I would get some answers to my questions soon.

**

Come here, little bunny. I won’t hurt you. Let’s have fun together”, He said, taking steps forward to her. She is a little girl, so afraid and frightened girl. “Please leave me alone you’re a scary uncle” The girl pleaded to step back every time his hand touches her skin.

"Scary uncle, huh, so let’s see what this scary uncle can do. "His hands reached her dress and rip it; you can see her bare skin.

“Oh no, no, please stop, please.”

The second the little girl close her eyes, I opened mine. It’s always the moment I wake up. I was sweating hard like someone put me in an oven and, at the same time, trembling like I was in a freezer for hours. My throat was sore from yelling at my sleep. Perks of choosing a faraway room from any other one, no one can hear me getting tortured every night.

I couldn’t save her again. I was as a ghost watching her getting raped by a monster who’s heartless even to consider that she’s a little girl. I am sick of this dream. I can’t also see his or her face. I want to know from where it comes. Why am I watching it over and over? It’s tearing me apart to watch this scene. I feel it’s real. Did I saw it in real life before? Who is this girl?

I started to have this dream at twelve years old. At that time, my dad will run to my room and hug me until I go back to sleep. He’ll cuddle me all night and wake me up with pancakes for breakfast. He never gave me an answer to my questions, but I didn’t mind at the time. Now that he’s not here, my bed is always cold. I consider the dream, the pain from the rain, and the darkness following me as a punishment from God for killing my father. It’s a way to adjust to life like mine.

**

Hello, it’s Jenna here.

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this story. I am currently trying to edit this book while writing it. And I admit that I am bad at it. SO, if you find anything that needs to fix, please warn me. I’ll be delighted to make it perfect.

Thank you!!!