Mom came in. I was standing, staring out the window at the rain that washing down it in heavy streams. Mom was right. Rain fell, and was splattered, and then ran away picking up dust, dirt, grime, and other disgusting amounts of muck, spreading disease and god knows what else.
“Honey, it’s time to go,” her voice was quiet, cautious, like she was stepping on eggshells.
I didn’t reply. I hadn’t said a word since Rendor had told me. I didn’t acknowledge her. I simply walked by her, out into the hall.
I felt empty.
Without thinking, I made it out of the building in heavy, strong strides. I was standing in the parking lot, letting the rain wash down on me. Suddenly, something was pulling at my arm, it was mom. “Come on,” she was saying, “Let’s get to car.”
I ripped away from her, and suddenly I was running as fast as I could.
And I knew exactly where I was running.
I could hear her yelling after me, but she wouldn’t follow on foot. She’d take the car. But she wouldn’t find me.
Tears fell, joining the rain.