The dominating sound of the wind’s savage howl is deafening, the sight of the rain’s venom streaking feverishly against the windows spreads fear throughout bodies, the flash of the lightning’s fury is blinding; but the storm has not gotten in yet; the storm worsens, water pours over the ground suffocating the new beautifully planted flowers, leaving only blackness behind, tree limbs rake their talons against the house leaving deep scars; the victim is tired of standing up against storms as evil as this one. The victim’s muscles are like lead from pushing against the wind, their skin, cracked from repelling the venom and talons, their mind, watery from watching devastation after devastation and their eyes droop with fatigue. Then without warning, all defenses crumble, and the storm snatches it’s weathered, beaten down victim into a well trained hand to throw scarred body into another hell when the storm feels bored again.
I am this very victim. I did not ask to be in this place, I did not ask to have never ending torture in my life, but I have no choice, that is how my life has been and this is how it will forever be. I know for a fact that the storm will follow me and try to hurt me from the age of dolls, to the age of wheelchairs. However, I also know that there is a way to escape, to stand up to the darkness in my life. At the moment, I don’t know how to find safety or how to protect myself, but I do know that someday, somehow, I will find a way to rainbows and blue skies.
