Late night rainstorm

The rain pounded loudly against the roof. Lightning like strobelights lit my room up in pure white plashes. Every thunder roll seemed to shake the whole house. It was late at night, yet I still lay wide awake listening to the steady pounding of my heart. I was past tears, my sadness now in the form of scilence. I never had felt so hopelessly alone. I was lost, it felt like. And no one could rescue me. My heart suddenly quickened it’s beat. I gasped for air. Instead of crying I hopped out of bed.
I passed the mirror on my wall, not wanting to see my own reflecting, afraid I’d be frightened of what I saw. I tiptoed down the staircase, trying with all my might not to wake my parents. I reached the kitchen swiftly. Then silently I creaked open the back door. A lightning flash lit up the kitchen, as I crept out into the pouring rain. The fierce droplits dug into my skin, I barely winced. The rain was wonderful, I suddenly felt real, alive again.

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