Chapter One
The Rainstorm
Rain splattered against the window panes of Crystal's bedroom. It dripped and ran down the glass like tear drops on a cheek.
The room was dark except for the flashes of lightening that illuminating the room only for a moment.
A frame with a picture of a man around 20 years of age lay on Crystal's bed and collected tear drops as they fell.
A whine squeaked from the girl's lips as she sniffed back her tears that streamed down her gentle features. With each memory that was lost that night, burned a hole into her heart. She felt as if life was not worth living. That she had lost the only thing that had been keeping her living all of her life.
And now he was gone and he will never come again...
She gazed at the picture and stroked it with a finger. She tried to remember how his touch felt as he held her and how his smile, no matter how horrible she felt. It would lift her up and keep her suspended in thin air.
She smiled at the thought of his smile and how his eyes smiled along with him.
She sighed and moved slowly over to the window. "I guess that I have nothing else to stay here for anymore..." she said and a tear dripped down her cheek. Somewhat reluctantly, she fingered at the gun that lay on the window sill.
"I have loved, and that is all that I wanted," she said softly to herself and her pink lips quivered.
"I have felt love and have been loved by one," she continued.
"All that I wanted and more was there, that night when he held me in his arms. He softly kissed me," she sniffed as the thought brought on more tears, "and we came close to what I thought was love." Her eyes lifted from the gun and peered out the window into the dark night. "But, we never went farther than that."
She raised her hand up from the gun and onto the glass. "We may have gone farther," she said out loud and cleared her voice. "But we didn't have a chance to."
She then gazed into the glass and at her own appearance. Her long brown hair, streaked with highlights of blonde, draped over her shoulders. Her dark pink skirt hovered around her legs. Her black shirt was tightly fitting and sleeveless, mahogany colored shirt covered her breasts and her midriff.
This time, a flood of tears came and with an aggravated swish of her hand, she flung the gun across the room. It landed under her bed and a shot went off.
She closed her eyes as the shot went off, and it blew a hole through her already damaged wall.
Most parents would come running upstairs full of concern for their daughter. If her parents were like that, they would run up the stairs calling, "Crystal! Crystal! Are you alright, Crystal?!?!" But they didn't.
Another tear glistened on her cheek. They were asleep on the couch with a hangover, a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. And, even if they did hear the shot, they would be glad to think that she committed suicide.
Crystal sighed and picked up the gun. She stroked it friendly as thoughts of it felt so welcoming. "I wouldn't be missed," she told herself.
It was true. She had no friends and didn't go to school. Her parents hated her and her siblings did drugs. As far as she was concerned, she was alone except the time she had Chad. Chad cared for her and hid her from this torture. Now that Chad was gone she was back to the hell that she had experienced all her life before she met him.
With a sigh, she set the gun back on the floor. "I will sleep on it," she said and climbed into her bed to go to sleep. With another tear that fell onto the pillow, she closed her brown eyes.