One. (Lake)
The aroma of rain was heavy in the air; fresh, clean, but smelling of the earth. It pattered heavily on the car windows, splashing, streaking, minuscule diamonds racing each other to the ground. The windscreen wipers swished back and forth, never ceasing, just steadily clearing the water from the screen. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool glass of my open window, rain sprinkling lightly in my hair, tears welling in my eyes.
(don’t think of it don’t think of it don’t think of it don’t don’t don’t)
“Lake!” My mother screeched. “Shut the window, it’s rai— it’s pouring!”
“Exactly, mum.”
“Lake, don’t make me come back there!”
“Whyyyyy?”
“‘Coz it’ll stink out the carpet. Shut it!”
I groaned exaggeratedly, but relented to pushing the button and closing the window.
Closing my eyes again, I leaned back against the screen. The combination of the pounding rain and vibrating car lulled me slowly to the edge of sleep. I felt myself being pushed down, the effect of gravity stronger on me. My fingers slipped on the edge of the cliff and I was
falling
falling
falling
Into the welcoming arms of sleep.
Something flicked me hard between the eyes and I jolted awake. I looked down at my lap, where a rubber band had rebounded, and then across at my brother who was laughing so hard he was wheezing.
“River!” I yelled, whacking him hard on the back of his head.
“Ow, Lake!” He complained. “Mum?”
She sighed. “What now?”
“Lake hit me.”
“He flicked a rubber band at my face!”
“No I didn’t! I threw it to you, not at you!”
“Liar! I was nearly asleep!”
“So?”
“How was I meant to catch it? Your story has faults, little bro.”
“Don’t call me that! You’re only a minute older than me!”
“So?”
“SHUT UP ALREADY!” My older sister yelled, snatching her earphones out of her ears.
“Ocean,” mum scolded. “Don’t yell like that.”
She rolled her eyes, stuffing her earphones back in her ears.
“Hey!” Yelled Creek from the front. “Respect your mother.”
“Says who?”
“I, the only other adult in this wretched family, say so.”
Ocean rolled her eyes again. “Eighteen barely counts as an adult. At sixteen I’m already ten times as mature as you, and at just fourteen, the twins could beat you in a math test.”
Creek scoffed. “That’s got nothing to do with—”
Suddenly the car swerved to the right, tires screeching, horn honking. For a terrifying second, everything seemed to stop. If felt as if gravity was no longer gripping me. I squeezed my eyes shut, only opening them when River had stopped his high pitched squeal and Creek had ceased swearing. Ocean continued bobbing her head to the music emitted from her earphones, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Mum, what was that?” I asked.
“I—I dunno. The road is wet but it shouldn’t be this slippery.”
“Pull over, we can wait for the rain to stop.” Advised Creek.
Mum peered through the windscreen, trying to see through the fogged glass. “Where are we?”
“Whaddya mean?” Creek asked. “On the road of c—”
He blinked. “Where are we?”
I pulled down my window and looked out through the pelting rain. Stalks of grain rose up around us like wizened trees, forming a golden forest that stretched on far into the horizon.
I stuck my head out further, craning my neck to try and find our tracks, searching for a line of flattened wheat. None such thing existed.
The sodden wheat rose up even in the wind and rain, stalks rippling in the gathering storm. Their heads seemed to wave at us, taunting, mirroring our confusion.
River pushed open his door, pulling his hood over his head. “I'm going to look around, try to find the road.”
“Wait,” mum said. “I don’t want you getting lost.”
“The road should be just over there,” he gestured to the wheat field directly behind our car. “I’m sure it’s right behind the wheat. How would I get lost?”
Mum didn’t seem convinced. “Take Lake with you. Just in case.”
He groaned heavily and set off through the rain.
“River!” I called. “Wait for me!”
As soon as I stepped out of the car, the cold hit me like a slap. I pulled my arms tight around me, trying not to shiver. The temperature of the rain was uncanny. It was ice in liquid form, trickling down my skin in streams, soaking through my hair and clothes. All I wanted to do was retrace my path, to step back into the warmth of the car; which was strange considering my love for rain.
Mud splashed up around me, coating my shoes in brown. My clothes hung from my shivering form, sodden and drenched like the wheat that danced around me.
“River!” I turned in a full circle, calling his name. “River, where did you go?”
Silence.
The grass waved at me.
The ice rain fell.
Mud splattered against my bare legs.
“River! RIVER!” I yelled.
I turned back around, searching for the car. I couldn’t have gone too far.
But it wasn’t there.
All around me, fog grew in swarms. The rain drizzled down continuously, soaking through the already drenched fields of wheat that continued to dance despite the icy water pouring from the grey clouds above. Diamond shaped drops were shaken free from the heads of wheat, only to be replaced by identical jewels.
There were no dark shapes in the fog.
No car.
No River.
The truth hit me like a wave, colder, heavier, than the rain that fell around me.
I was lost.
“I’m busy, Lake. Are you deaf?”
“No, papa. I just really wanted to show you my—”
“I. Said. I. Was. Busy!” I flinched as he slammed the door in my face, the noise echoing around the house with a resounding crack.
I slumped to the floor, knees to my chest in a position I took up often. After holding them in for a while, the tears came easily, sliding down my face like determined snails, slow but persistent.
When I felt the hand on my back, I wasn’t surprised.
“Go away, Rain.”
“I know you don’t want that, Lake.” My little sister mumbled, her tiny hand rubbing away reassuringly at my back.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
She sighed, sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. “He’ll come round. He’s just stressed, Lake.”
I chuckled dryly, no humour in my tone. “He’s not just stressed. Do you reckon he beats mum ‘coz he’s stressed?”
She flinched, long lashes fluttering as she tried not to cry. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Rain.” It was my turn to console her. “I’m so sorry.”
She shouldn’t have to deal with this. Her childhood shouldn’t be wrecked by the very man who was meant to help her grow through it.
I stood back up, wiping away my tears.
“Papa,” I said, as I knocked on his office door. I took a deep breath.
And started to talk.
When I woke, the rain had stopped. The sun was peering down at me from his place in the sky, the grain watching me curiously, wondering why I had fallen asleep in their fields.
I pushed myself up from the hard ground, surprised to find that my clothes were still damp despite the heat of the sun.
It took me a moment to remember.
The rain.
The road.
The slip.
The rain.
The wheat.
Lost.
I walked forward, pushing aside the grain, searching for a sign, for anything.
Crickets twittered noisily, passing pieces of buzz back and forth like children playing ball. The wind whistled through the grass, sending shivers down my spine, goosebumps down my arms, my legs, my neck. Ravens were circling overhead, cawing, glaring, ruffling their shining black feathers.
Something wasn’t right.
The sun was blistering hot and I was dying for water. My feet were cracked and sore, my head was pounding, but for some reason I couldn’t stop shivering.
My vision swirled, the wheat quickened their dance, ravens spinning and
spinning
and
spinning.
And I went
down
down
d
o
w
n
.
