A Piece of Prose

The thunder, the rain, even the once in a few heartbeats lightning... it keeps you awake.

The thunder is loud and intense. It sounds like anger and makes you jump out of your skin. The hair on the back of your neck raises with every boom and crackle that echoes throughout your bedroom.

The rain is more steady, more calming. The rhythm is constant, the pitter patter gentle. But you can't help shaking with nerves when you think of how cold it is, how stormy and formidable the clouds are looking.

The lightning is the one that gets you the most. The sudden burst of light filling your dark bedroom with ghostly shadows and unsettling images. You can't decide whether the figure you saw in the corner is just the distorted shapes of shadows or whether someone is really there, waiting for your breathing to become regular before they attack.

The weather captured your mood that night perfectly. You were angry like the thunder, you were sad like the rain and you were scared and jumpy like the lightning. You were at breaking point and even if the weather was better, you'd still be awake at 3.47am. You'd still be shaking slightly, tears dripping down your face with your fists in balls, tense. You were never good at controlling your emotions, some things just don't change.

You don't know when and you can't remember how, but you eventually fall asleep. In your dreams you see his face and you see his crimes. You dream of the worst and you wake up early, still tearful. You look at the time, 7.25am. You roll out of bed, and tread carefully to the bathroom. It's a reasonable time to wake up, but you don't want to have to answer the questions of why you are awake.

The storm had passed while you were sleeping and something inside you had changed. The worst was over. The shock gone. You still felt like your heart was being ripped about, toyed with. But at least you could start thinking of other things.

It took a few days for the storm to fully disappear from the sky.

The sun came out. You woke up with him next to you, looking peaceful, angelic, as if he could never play with your emotions the way he had. The warm rays fell across his sleeping face and you stopped resisting the urge to run your fingers through his hair. You gently placed a kiss on his pouting lips and pushed yourself against his warm body, wanting to be close. You felt your heart swell with the love you felt for him, and fresh tears formed in your eyes, but did not fall.

You don't know why and you definitely can't explain it, but you just know that this is how things are meant to be.

If they weren't they wouldn't feel so good. You wouldn't be so happy and you wouldn't be able to feel this secure. You just shut up about the storm, it didn't really do any damage anyway. You look outside at the sunshine and somehow the storm feels like a distant memory, come to think of it... did it ever really happen?