Under The Pouring Rain

(Something I wrote a long time ago)

Usually rain comforts me, it isolates me from desperate noises of humanity with its stormy sound that covers the screams of confused seekers, the solvers of life’s puzzles, those who live to find the truth. However, that evening, penetrating and infiltrating, were the arrogant cold wind and the dark clouds that looked down on me, as my eyes glared up at them, challenging them fearlessly. The sound of the rain irritated me, messed with my mind, stirred up my emotions… it was laughing at me.

Under a leafless tree, which of course didn’t protect me from the pouring water, I stood and wiped my face over and over again, as if the act would forever cast away the water that fell from both the sky and my eyes. I removed my hood, revealing my wet hair that was tainted by traces of mud, and stared at the distance, where I could see the line that separated the dark sky and the wasteland. It had been one hell of a day, and I somehow knew that everything was just starting to get much worse.
I had my rifle in my arms, half-loaded, my clothes completely soaked and my body suffered from minor wounds. I was fine, yes, but you have no idea how I even got to this place, what I had been through, all the blood and the dead bodies. And the rain didn’t care. It kept falling, feeding on my sorrow. The sound it made, it was deafening, filling my ears with nothing but ignorance that spread around my head, freely inviting images from the past.

Shame. Regret. Alone would be carrying them for the rest of my life. The others would have no clue, they would be as unaware as the rain. Don’t tell me I was wrong. If you had been in my position, forcing your way through the things you took no pleasure in doing, just because of some stupid mistakes that you’ve made back when everything was all joyful and happy, then you would certainly understand. The world now suddenly put on a different mask, facing me with an intimidating look, cornering me so that I would find no other way to deal with all of this. Even hating myself would not work, because nothing would. I was left with a mix of confusion, panic, and anger. Nothing or no one to blame. Nothing that could be undone.

You see, I would never have a future where I belong in a place I could call home, with the people I could call family. The future would only linger in my mind as a deadly mouth that swallows everything coming its way. A black hole, you might say. A dead star. Timeless, spaceless, indefinite. Yes, it was my future, still is, and will forever be. I am not even pretending, for that is the truth.
So that evening, I decided, after a long moment of hesitation, to embrace my future. Wherever it would take me, I was ready. I had nothing else to lose anyway, so, “Let’s just get this over with.”
I grabbed my handgun and took it out of its holster. I lifted it up, turned it around,  and put my finger on its trigger. As of now it had come to the point where I didn’t give a damn anymore, about anything at all. I put the tip of the gun inside my mouth, only seconds before I pulled the trigger.

With my mind blurred, I could not think of a reason why I should do this, but clearly I could not think of any reason why I should not do this either.
I killed myself that day, just like I killed my best friends two hours before.
And then I heard a loud bang, a thunder, followed by the sound that comforted me. The rain had just started pouring from the sky, but I was inside an abandoned house, completely dry. I was standing in front of a window, staring at the storm that was approaching. No, no, not the storm that you might think, it was the storm that was only coming for me.

“Luke!”

I turned around. A tall man carrying a shotgun was standing by the door behind me. “You comin’ or what?”

Not able to meet his eyes, I looked away. “You sure you wanna do this?” I asked with my voice trembling.

“Yeah of course!” There was a silent pause for a few seconds. “You alright, man?”

No. I was not alright. He would be the first of three men whose deaths were on my hands. I would kill my best friends that day.

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