Dainty, Though Dangerous

by Annica Barber, St Clare’s College

The small perfect droplets splash delicately onto the path. They know only happiness, yet with a simple overdose they bring destruction. Dainty, though dangerous.

I have always admired the rain. The way it does as it pleases. No evil stepfathers and oblivious mothers, no hateful teachers, no disgusted peers to bring it down. Oh, how I wish I could be rain. I could destroy those who destroyed me, and I could bring new life to those who suffer, just as I do. I love the way rain dances, twisting and turning as it falls through the air, the way it swims down gutters and streams. Elegant. Rain is not to be underestimated; without it we would surely die, and with too much you would find yourself in danger yet again. What I wouldn’t give to be rain.

“Charlise!” Mrs Brown spits. Her voice breaks the ice. I stare at her disgusting, rotten teeth and then flick my eyes over to the blackboard. I’m lucky the equation is simple.

“142, Miss,” I say, not sure what to expect.

“Yes, Charlise that is the answer. Of the equation we finished fifteen minutes ago!”

I look away and roll my eyes. I would be mortified, but I’m 99.9% sure Miss has Alzheimer’s because she has never actually followed through with a detention, and usually forgets everything we’ve done in the last few lessons. My eyes dart over to the clock and I’m relieved to see that there’re only five minutes left of school.

I race out the front door and into the carpark. I have to run Mum’s errands before I’m free. I bolt to the local supermarket and grab the cheapest eggs I can find, 5 potatoes and a jug of milk. I quickly swipe them across the checkout and throw in a chocolate bar at the last minute. I shove my 10 dollar note into the lady’s hands and take my bag of food. When I step outside I feel the soft breeze of freedom. I have an hour to kill before Steve expects me to be home. I run to the park and plonk myself under the giant fir. I take out my chocolate bar and bite a big chunk off the end.

The animals prance playfully around the pond. Rain falls softly, bringing with it the new life of spring. The Wildebeest rejoice, for to them rain means green grass and full stomachs. The lions know their hardships are over. Both lift their heads in appreciation, as if they are thanking the sky for its kindness.

I open my eyes and glance at my phone. Shoot, 4:50, ten minutes! I grab my things and sprint down the street. I run along paths and across roads. Angry drivers honk at me. I yell sorry in their general direction. A quick look at my watch says I’ve been running for five minutes. I reach our front door just as it turns to five o’clock. I walk inside, my face as red as a tomato. Steve growls at me. I lift up the bag of groceries and Mum says in her shrill voice, “Wonderful, just in time, Darling. How grand!” Sometimes she disgusts me more than her greasy, fake, spoilt husband, Steve. He glares at me then turns back to my mother and starts talking to her like he loves her. He plants a sloppy wet kiss on her forehead. I can’t take it. I turn around and retch.

“Dinner, my sweets!” Mum yells from the kitchen. I shuffle down the hall, and watch Mum grab her coat. She tells me it’s time for work. I wince. That means alone time with Steve. I shudder at the thought. She plants a kiss on the top of my head and I wipe it off almost immediately. She kisses Steve on the lips and waltzes out the door.

Once he’s sure she’s gone, he turns to me. “So, you got a detention?” Ah. The worm doesn’t have Alzheimer’s after all. She must have emailed him. I’m in for it. A smile creeps onto his ugly face and I anticipate the words that will come next. His grin widens at my fear, and I shy away. “Hands out,” he says, lingering on the ‘s’.

Slowly I put my hands in front of my body; what good would it do to disobey? He gives me a knowing smile, and slowly unbuckles his belt, pulling it out of the loops. “How many should we do?” he asks himself. “5, 10? No, no. That would do no good. How about 20? Yes, that’s better,” he whispers, snakelike. He turns his psychotic smile to me and I frantically try to put my mind elsewhere.

Rain falls furiously, people flee … “ONE!” pain spreads throughout my palms. Rivers quickly rise, overflowing… “TWO!” he yells, more pain. Flood warnings are issued; people start to leave their homes. “THREE!” this time agony. Rain pelts down, full of fury; people cower in fear… “FOUR, FIVE, SIX!” he bellows. I scream, the agony is unbearable. Rain is full of anger; how could these people not appreciate its fine work? They must pay the price… “SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE!” Tears stream down my face. Water gushes through valleys, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. “TEN, ELEVEN, TWELVE! THIRTEEN, FOURTEEN FIFTEEN!” he screeches at the top of his lungs. Rain starts to slow; waters start to recede… “SIXTEEN, SEVENTEEN, EIGHTEEN!” I’m sobbing. People return to start the clean-up… “NINETEEN… TWENTY!!!” The last hit is the hardest yet, but I’m too relieved that it’s over to feel it. As soon as Steve leaves, I run and grab antiseptic cream and bandages. I clean and wrap my new wounds.

I wish yet again to be just like rain, dainty, but not be underestimated, because I could be full of destruction. I could bring life or take it away. I would be dainty, though dangerous.