Erratic strands of my hair stick to my temples and forehead, dripping all over me.
I stand in our small garden, catching my breath, and press a shaky palm to my chest.
My heart’s palpitations grow uneven and out of beat as if protesting. I close my eyes and tip my head back, letting the rain beat down on me.
Soak me.
Rinse me.
The droplets pound on my closed lids almost like a soothing caress.
I’ve always loved the rain.
The rain camouflaged everything.
No one saw the tears. No one noticed the shame or the humiliation.
It was just me, the clouds, and the pouring water.
But that’s the thing about the rain, isn’t it? It’s only a camouflage, a temporary solution.
It can only rinse the outside. It can’t seep under my skin and wash away my shaky insides.
Wiping away my memories isn’t an option either.
It’s been barely an hour since Aiden had his hands on me – all over me.
I can still feel it.
His breath.
His nearness.
His psychotic eyes.
I lock the encounter deep in the darkness of my head and trudge to the entrance. I need to change before I catch a cold.
Our house sits in a cosy upper-middle class neighbourhood. It’s two-storey and with more rooms than we need. The three of us did everything to make it as homey as possible. We planted an orange tree. A few roses. Uncle and I made sure to take care of the gardening ourselves — but lately he doesn’t have time to.
My movements are numb as I hit the code and step inside.
The interior design has been carefully picked by Aunt Blair. Despite being minimalist, it’s classy and modern. The lounge area has dark blue and beige sofas. The bookshelves are also dark blue with a touch of strength that doesn’t only represent Uncle Jaxon’s alpha character, but also Aunt Blair’s.
Not bothering to open the tall, french windows, I drag my numb feet upstairs.
Aunt and Uncle wouldn’t be around until late at night. The more their company grows, the less I see of them.
Sometimes, they pull all-nighters — whether in their company’s office or their home one.
Sometimes, one of them returns to spend the night, but most of the time, they don’t.
I’m going to be eighteen soon and I’ve always acted responsibly, so I stay alone just fine.
Deep down, I know they don’t like leaving me alone — especially Aunt Blair. When I’m by myself or with Kim, she calls a thousand times — even with the safe neighbourhood and the alarm system.
God. I can’t believe I ditched school.
I just couldn’t sit in the same class as Aiden and pretend I was fine.