Elsa

Elsa

It was a very rainy day. Water poured down drenching the people on the pavements, saturating the ground. The main street was crowded with a heaving mass of dripping umbrellas. People moving, going places, in spite of the rain.

From the window of a top floor flat, Elsa sat, staring at the world beyond. She watched as millions of tiny droplets hit the window and trickled to the sill. It was as if the whole world was crying, sobbing out all its pains. But she knew this would all be over soon. Her feelings remained bottled up until the next downpour.

Carelessly, she wound a lock of hair around her finger, pressing her forehead to the glass. In the background, the sound of her parents fighting. Loud shouts and yelling disturbed the uneasy silence of the rooms. Pitched voices rose and fell in anger. Those constant undulating tones, never-ending, like a distant siren.

It was always like this. A row or upset every other moment, a major fight each hour. This had been life for the past five years. Ever since Uncle Mick had died, Dad had been devastated. He was forever going out to the pub and getting drunk out of his mind. Mum just couldn’t cope any longer.

Outside, the people glided past, going about their daily lives. Unaware of the shouting of abuses going on behind locked doors.

Elsa glanced away from the window, letting her gaze roam around her room. Her bookshelf void of books; her bed with its worn mattress; her cupboard now empty. Was this all she had left? Through the door she could glimpse shadows stamping about and gesticulating wildly. Her gaze slipped to the suitcase by her feet.

Slowly she stood. Lifting her case, she moved quietly to her bedroom door. Creeping past the kitchen, into the hall, opening the latch, she slipped out. Down the flights of stairs, out into the rain.

The first few minutes of freedom, she pushed through the umbrella-wielding crowd, running between the passers-by. All the time, focused on escape.

When Elsa stopped, she was out of breath, clothes drenched. She stationed herself in a dingy doorway on a back lane. Now that she was away from it all, she could let everything out. Warm tears came to her eyes. She sobbed to the cold, quiet street. Wave upon wave.

A wind whipped up and threw cool rain in her face. She looked upwards.

“The whole world’s tears?” she smiled to herself. “Ha, too true.”

The torrents had lashed down on Easterhouses, turning roofs to waterfalls, swelling gutters. Grey clouds now drifted through a darkening sky. The evening was cold and night was drawing in. The last rays of the dying sun gleamed like jewels off the raindrops.

Elsa sat, listening to the stillness. Her breathing calmed. The rain was slowing to a sigh.

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