Leaving Home

Rain as clear as crystal slithered down the icy window, and my breath formed a milky puddle on the glass' cold surface. I leaned back in the leather seat and buckled my seatbelt, sighing a deep and melancholy moan. I gazed at the land one last time:
Rolling hills of lush green trees; blooming wild flowers; sweet-smelling tall grass swaying in the labored gusts of wind; and rich, fertile soil tumbled in every direction under a normally cerulean sky. However, today clouds thundered across the charcoal-grey sky occasionally igniting a spark of lightning here and there, like an electric canvas. It was as if he heavens were sobbing with me.

"I'll miss this place," I concluded with care.

I turned the key in the ignition and watched as the car rumbled to life explosively. A single tear fell onto my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away with the back of my unsteady hand. I held my hand there, though, studying the salty teardrop. As clear as the rain itself, but filled with so much more. In that single tear, I saw the gnawing gloom and loss that had been eating at me for years on end.

"Time is so short," I whispered, my eyes filling with more of these obtrusive drops of salty rain.

I wiped my hand on my sweater slightly dampened from standing in the rain and being my pathetic and dramatic self. That's what I was: pathetic and dramatic. After all, he was just a man. A man who tortured me with his words and paralyzed me with his lustful touch. Just a man...
A stomped on the gas, the tires of my Mustang screaming against the pavement. Much resembling my own, after the Man would trap me in his dungeon and its suffocating embrace. After he'd tie me up by a string to his heart and make me sing to him lullabies. Craziness, that's what it was.