Drunk With Rain
It was raining heavily upon that city which was usually full of life and lively with energy, but was deadly quiet that very night. The trees danced furiously, sad, distressed dances. The thunder roared crazily, almost like desperate screams. The sounds of the dripping rain were the strongest of all, and it didn’t give itself a break as it continued to fall, drop after drop; mercilessly.
It was definitely a bad night to be outside. All the people had hidden under their houses’ roofs or under any shelter they could find. No one dared to be outside in such weather to be soaked with rainwater or get struck by the lightning. Well, no one except one.
She stood under that all, not feeling any fear of the lightning or the rain. She stood there, all alone, no one daring to be with her, no one wanting to be with her. She refused to hide, she refused to run away. She just wanted to stand there.
And in her hand, a bottle of wine. A tall bottle of strong wine that was, and she held it strongly in her hand but couldn’t keep her balance as strong. She stood there and as she did, she drank of that wine.
More and more.
Maybe because she was really drunk that she refused to hide. Maybe because she was almost out of her mind that she didn’t want to avoid the danger. Or maybe she enjoyed being under the rain, feeling herself almost drown in its water. But one thing was true and sure; she stood there and as she did, she drank more and more of that wine, getting more drunk with every drop.
Or perhaps, this was her chance. Maybe this was her chance to be alone, to cry when she never cried before in front of anyone. She drank more of the wine and cried. She cried and let all the tears she used to hide out. The more she drank, the more she cried. But her tears were hidden with the raindrops that fell along.
No one was around her. No one cared to look after her. No one wanted to go to her, to convince her to hide and be somewhere safe, to take her away if her drunkenness got in the way. She was alone, nothing with her but the rain.
Slowly, she began to walk to one of the dancing trees. Her walking was pretty slow and unbalanced, but she soon reached the tree and held to it, temporarily sheltering herself lightly from the rain, even if she felt some drops fall on her through the leaves still. She didn’t want to hide but rather needed something to hold to before the wine knocks her out.
And so she stood under that tree, soaking wet but not caring. What was the worst that could happen to her, a cold? A fever? Like it mattered. Nothing mattered. She leaned her back against the tree and drank her wine. She drank and cried. She cried and cried, more and more. She wanted to forget, to forget all the memories and the pain. Wasn’t the wine supposed to do that? Why was she crying then? Why wasn’t she forgetting then? Why with every drop she drank, she only cried more?
But her cries soon became screams, and she screamed harder than ever. She screamed as loud as she could but the sounds of the rain and the wind made sound so faint. She would scream so hard and for long then suddenly stop to drink of that wine, drink and drink till she couldn’t take it anymore.
Blurry. Everything was so blurry and misty. The rain, her tears, the wine…why was everything spinning so hard? And who was she to ask? Wasn’t she whose life had spun around harder than ever, went completely upside down? Wasn’t she one happy person in the past, with all her beloved family and friends around her? Where were they now? Wasn’t she called the most optimistic person in the world?
She still was. In front of others, those who looked to her with cruel, ugly looks, she was a strong, powerful, perhaps oppressive, happy person.
She showed none of her sadness and pain in front of them. No, she was strong and happy in front of them. She never cried, and never showed an expression but a cheerful smile. She was strong, cruel at times, too.
So what if she had shown them her misery and pain? Would they have taken any pity on her? Would anyone have tried to help her, make her change her way, show her any sort of love or kindness? They would have probably thought that it was the least she deserved. Maybe it really was the least she deserved. Maybe she really deserved to be lonely like so.
She drank more of that wine, cried more and more, drank more and more. With every drop she drank, she felt dizzier than before. What happened? When she usually drank, it made her forget everything and feel more relaxed than ever. Why wasn’t it working then? Why was she only feeling dizzy, but still so miserable, even more than how she would be normally?
Instead of continuing to hold that tree and using it to steady herself, she walked away from it and back under the rain. She almost fell to the ground but held herself and walked to the rain. Such comfort that rain gave her, to be under the heavy rain and feel every drop fall on her skin. She loved the rain, for it reminded her of her happy childhood days when she used to play under it so freely and innocently, no worries or sadness on her mind. But where was that happiness now? Where would the happiness come from when everyone she loved was lost?
Where would the happiness come from when she was all alone, the people around her just abusing her both physically and mentally? And when the only one who seemed to give her a little care – her conscience tormenting her and preventing her from being too close to her because of a horrible doing she had done her but little did she know it. And the only love she had in the world; lost, away, separated by fate and cruelty.
She continued to drink the wine, her balance almost failing her as she continued to feel so dizzy. No feelings did she have that very moment but the feeling of the raindrops on her.
She continued to drink under the rain she loved so much but also resented it, for it reminded her of her worst, most horrible memory; that bloody memory that kept haunting her day and night. That memory she remembered so well but wished she would forget more than anything in the world. That memory that reminds her of how her misery began, when she lost the most precious person to her in the world; killed, right in front of her eyes, by the person she trusted the most. Killed and taken away so mercilessly, and she died, in her very own arms, her blood covering her.
It was raining that moment and there she was again, under the rain but alone. Completely alone.
Eventually, the bottle she drank the wine from so heartedly was over, and the bottle was nothing but an empty bottle. She threw it away from her in frustration and looked around dizzily, maybe wanting another bottle but forgetting that there was none nearby.
She soon fell to the ground, unable to keep her balance or vision steady any longer. She fell to the mud beneath her and lay there, the drippings of the rain almost drowning her, unable to move a limb.
She felt so heavy and sleepy then that she wanted nothing but to lie there, sleep there, not caring if people found her that way, maybe recognized who she was or even tried to kill her. They would do that if they could, surely.
Her eyes closed, she was unable to move but so heavily, so slowly, so unconsciously, her hands and arms began to move around aimlessly – as though she were searching for something, maybe someone. Was she looking for someone to hold her in their arms, comfort her, tell her it was going to be okay, that she wasn’t alone? Maybe. A father, a brother, a love…a friend. But she had none of those. None at all.
Or perhaps she was searching for another bottle of that wretched wine? Maybe, why not. Wasn’t that wine one of the very few things that gave her comfort, even if it was fake, unreal comfort that? Many people had tried to tell her to put it off, to stop it and stop going the dirty way. Little did they know that she would, if she could. She wished that she would stop going that way, being cruel in that way. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
She cuddled to herself there, no one and nothing to comfort her but the rain that fell so hard on her, so heavily. She closed her eyes and wished that she would never open them again. The effects of the alcohol she drank set in and she felt so heavy, so sleepy with no desire but to sleep, never awake. All she wanted in the world was a little love, company, a family. But if that world wasn’t kind enough to give her that, what was life worth?
As she lay there, drunk with wine and misery, all of a sudden, she felt a gentle touch. It was such a kind, gentle touch that she didn’t feel so often, and the state she was in made her feel it was completely strange. She felt something brush against her cheek and wanted to open her eyes to see where that was coming from, except that it was so difficult. Her eyes felt so heavy although she just wanted to have a small look.
Then she felt the rain suddenly stop, although she still heard its strong sound. Finally forcing her eyes open, she couldn’t see anything at first but slowly, her vision came to and she saw a figure –a wing – over her. It covered her and sheltered her from the rain. Then, she felt such a soft touch against her cheek again. As she looked, she saw that beautiful, white animal of hers, looking at her with love and worry, but looking tired itself as she had been searching all night for her mistress under the rain. She brushed her cheek against her mistress’ gently, comforting her and continuing to cover her with her wing.
Perhaps she was the only friend she had; a simple animal that was her only true companion. Maybe it was because that animal didn’t know everything about her that it still treated her with much love and faithfulness. But nevertheless, she loved her mistress, and her mistress loved her in return.
The white pegasus gently pushed her back, gesturing for her to get up, to stand, to get on her so that they could go back home. Only that her mistress shook her head at first, replying in a most slurred way that she wanted to be there alone. Under the rain.
Finding no way to convince her mistress, the pegasus did nothing but sit down beside her, continuing to cover her faithfully, taking the rain for her, protecting and sheltering her.
Sheltering her drunk friend. Drunk with alcohol, drunk with misery, drunk with rain.