Delicate Rain

by Mitch Goth

  After another hour of wandering, Rain finally reached her breaking point and couldn’t walk another step. She’d walked her way into a seedy neighborhood of the city and now, with her last few bits of strength, slid herself into the darkness of a thin alleyway. It seemed like the perfect place to fit in, yet be alone at the same time. In addition, it kept a good few people from seeing her, which she was thankful for in a neighborhood where all the buildings had bars on the windows and there wasn’t a place you could go and not hear sirens of some kind blaring in the distance.

  She dropped her backpack to the ground and sat beside it, wincing in soreness as she did. But everything seemed to feel better as she leaned back against the faded tan brick building behind her and let the exhaustion wash over her. Her head fell weakly into her hand and her eyes began sinking in heaviness.

  It seemed she was just moments from succumbing to sleep when a noise pulled her out of her exhaustion-induced trance state. A voice came through the alley, it sounded closer than she would’ve liked.

  “Looks like you’re in the wrong place,” a gruff, low tone announced.

  Rain’s eyes immediately shot open and she stood up, still looking around for the source of the voice. Soon it came into view. A thin, obviously drug addicted man sauntered into her sight; his face was coated in bruises and scabs where he’d been picking at his skin, perhaps looking for bugs, and his eyes had deep bags under them, like he hadn’t slept in days. But Rain didn’t focus on his looks for long, as the object in his extended hand caught much more of her attention. It was a short but sharp looking pocket knife.

  “I don’t have any money,” Rain replied to the man, her body barely able to produce sound through a mixture of overwhelming exhaustion and now intense fear. Although the adrenaline coursing through her veins was taking care of the former quite quickly, it only seemed to enhance her fright.

  “Well, ain’t that bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” the addict said harshly, taking a step closer and waving the knife gently from side to side.

  “I’m telling the truth,” she exclaimed, her voice cracking.

  “That shirt on your back is tellin’ me differently.”

  Rain paused for a moment, confused by what the man meant. But then she took time to observe what she was wearing. A spotlessly clean, purple, designer label t-shirt, not to mention designer jeans and shoes to match. She didn’t look like she was short on money, which only acted as an exacerbation to her situation.

  “I don’t have anything, honest,” she pleaded with the man.

  “Now that ain’t true for sure,” the addict retorted. “Even if you ain’t got money, you’ve always got somethin’ else to give.”

  Just as she began trying to slither away from his gradual advance, the addict lunged, wrapping one hand against Rain’s neck and shoving her against the brick wall. As she grabbed at his tight grip, hoping to loosen it enough to breathe, he jabbed his knife into her side. Not enough to break skin, but enough to cause pain nonetheless.

  “What do you want?” Rain asked, tears in her eyes and pain showing through her low, gasping tone.

  “You should know by now,” the addict hissed, sliding the blade downwards and cutting the thin belt Rain wore, letting it hang loosely around her waist.

  “Please don’t,” Rain’s voice was nothing more than a light breeze in a hurricane at this point, the pressure on her neck hindered her volume as well as her respiration.

  The addict’s knife was sliding its way up her shirt when a peculiar set of sounds stopped his attack. They were quick, and advancing fast. He didn’t release his grip or move his blade as he turned to see a figure walking down the alley towards them.

  Rain’s vision was growing hazy, so she couldn’t see any features of the approaching person. But the addict seemed to recognize who it was right away.

  “What the fuck are you up to now, Marty?” the figure asked in disgust. Rain could make out through the voice that it was a man, but still not much else.

  “How are ya, Ben?” the addict, Marty, replied with a dark toothed smile. “You got any Emeralds to sling me? It’d be damn near sacrilegious to fuck a bitch this fine without gettin’ high first,” his vision turned back to Rain, who moaned weakly, trying her best to look away from her captor.

  “I’m gonna have to ask you to let the girl be, Marty,” the figure, Ben, replied in a stern instruction.

  “Come on, Ben, cut me a little slack. How often you think some bitch come by my alley that ain’t on no rock? It’s an opportunity that’s just gotta get got, you know?”

  “Suit yourself,” Ben shrugged, pulling something from his waist.

  In an instant, a bang rang out and Marty’s grip around Rain’s neck disappeared as he tumbled to the ground. Rain stood stunned for a moment before she’d realized what’d happened. But, as she looked down at the screaming man who’d been prepared to rape her not several seconds ago, she knew what just occurred.

  This mysterious figure had shot Marty in the shoulder, and was now calmly replacing the gun back in its holster. All the while, Marty went on screaming and grasping at his bloody wound.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Marty screamed.

  “Shut up,” Ben spoke in distain at the drug addicted man beneath him as he approached Rain. “Get your ass to the free clinic and have them pry that bullet out before you die of lead poisoning.”

  “You fuckin’ son of a bitch,” Marty growled as he got up and sprinted down the dark alley, holding his arm the whole way down.

  “Are you alright?” Ben looked over at a still visibly distraught and shocked Rain.

  She returned his look after a moment of stillness. She could see him in much better detail now. If he hadn’t have just saved her life, she’d be far more intimidated by him than by any knife wielding addict. He was nearly half a foot taller than her, and his brawn-heavy physique simply created an illusion of even greater loft over her. In addition, his shaved head and thick stubble didn’t scream of sainthood, despite the unbelievable deed he’d just done for her.

  “I don’t think ‘alright’ is the right word for me right now,” she replied, her voice still shaking and quiet.

  “What the hell are you doin' on the east side at this time of night?” Ben wondered, showing legitimate concern.

  “I’m kinda new to this city,” she shrugged, “I didn’t know where I was going.”

  “Well, that much is obvious,” Ben shook his head. “Did he hurt you at all?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Rain replied unsurely, rubbing at her side. The point where he’d jabbed in the knife still hurt, but she knew it could’ve been much, much worse.

  “Well, do you need a ride home?” Ben offered.

  “Um,” she hedged for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Even after this, Rain didn’t want to return home, but she most certainly didn’t want to walk any further through this section of the city.

  “I don’t think I can let you just walk around here in good conscience,” Ben seemed insistent to give her a ride. “Where do you live?”

  “Right now, nowhere,” Rain said softly, unable to think of a better way to say it.

  “You’re homeless?” Ben looked surprised, noticing her expensive clothes and still rather well kept look. But then he looked down at the ground, where he large backpack still sat. Then he understood. “You’re a runaway,” he deduced.

  “Yeah? So?” Rain responded defensively. “What are you gonna do? Report me to the police? I’m not going home, I’ve come too far for that already.”

  “You don’t wanna go home? Even after all that?” Ben nearly laughed.

  “I can’t, I just can’t, okay,” Rain stayed strong in her point.

  “Okay, fine, but you sure as hell can’t stay out here.”

  “What are you gonna do, put me up at the Hilton?” Rain joked, although no tone of humor came from her. She was still far too petrified to speak in anything other than anxiousness and f
ear.

  “I’ve got a building on Fifty-seventh Street you can spend the night at,” Ben explained.

  “Hell no,” Rain immediately objected. “I think I’m through with trusting any sort of stranger for a long time.”

  “Do you really have any other viable options?”

  “I guess not,” Rain looked around nervously.

  “Look, if I let you hold this for the night will it make you feel better?” Ben pulled the pistol off of his waist and offered it to her. After a moment of apprehension she took it from him.

  Rain stared at the stubby, silver revolver for a long time before looking back up to respond, “You’re right, I guess. I don’t have any other place to go.”

  “Alright,” Ben nodded, grabbing her bag off the ground, “let’s get you off the streets before another junkie shows up.”

  “One more thing,” she stopped him.

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s your name? I know your first name is Ben, but I think it would help to know your full name.”

  “Ben Scallazi,” he answered, despite his better judgment telling him anonymity was the better route, “and you are?” he held out a hand to shake.

  “Rain Phillipa,” she shook his hand with an empty smile.

  “Well, Rain Phillipa, let’s get the hell outta here.”

  She only nodded and followed him out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. It was then that she realized she had no place to conceal the pistol on her person. After several seconds of awkwardly trying to hide it, Rain finally gave up and let it just sit in her hand, in plain view. She figured it would do her better there anyway. As they walked, she couldn’t help but feel powerful having the weapon in her grasp. Knowing the power she held was exciting and almost rejuvenating. As long as the gun was by her side, Rain Phillipa felt invincible.

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