It Has Never Rained Before

My name is Adam and I’ll be twenty seven this year.

                   I was walking down the pavement, unsure of where I was going to. Out on the pavement it's very cold and totally deserted. Part of me was elsewhere as I was walking towards an old house at the end of the road, furthest from the neighborhood. The house looked familiar, yet, so foreign. I pushed the front door open and slowly but surely, I took a step inside the house. The air smelled of dust and abandonment. Cobwebs littered at every corner of the house. It felt strange, almost like I've been in the house before.
             
                 Confusingly, I wasn't sure what I was doing there. The furniture was all covered in white clothes. The owner must’ve moved away from the house for about a decade. It was all dusty all over the place and the floor board made a creaking sound whenever I stepped on them. It was somehow nostalgic and amusing as the silence was deafening. Scanning my gaze around the house, my eyes stopped at a particular door in the dining area. The door looked new, even though the house looked like it had been abandoned for years. It was a strange sight to behold. I walked as if in trance, my mind desperately begging me to open the door. I stopped right in front of the door. The nearer I got, the more anxious I became.

                As I touched the doorknob, an electric jolt shot through me.

‘The trouble with people like him is that they can brush off people like me. Like I was nothing. They don’t understand the type of world we’re living in now; all those menaced souls clamouring for attention and recognition. He was a very arrogant young man, so full of himself. 

No longer. Now he’s groaning, blood spilling thickly from the wounds in his head and his yellow, unfocused eyes are gendering around, desperately trying to find clarity, some meaning in the bleakness, the darkness around him. It must be lonely.

Oh he’s trying to speak now. What is it that he is he trying to say to me?

Help. Police. Hospital.

Or was it help please hospital? It doesn’t really matter, that little point of detail because his life is ebbing away; human existence distilled to begging for emergency services.

You pushed me away, mister. You rejected me. You tricked me. I’ve seen you before. Long ago, just lying there as you are now. Black, broken, dying. I was glad then and I’m glad now.

I reach into my bag and I pull out a claw hammer.

----

Seeing him coming from terror to that graceless state of someone who knows that he is definitely falling and I feel myself losing my balance in those awkward shoes and I correct myself, turning and moving down the old staircase outside.’

               I opened the door, creaking sound filled the room. There was a body lying on the floor. I should’ve been shocked but strangely, I wasn’t.

It was raining. 
It has never rained before but then it rained. 
Having fallen, it wasn’t rain. 
It was blood.

                My name is Adam. It’s been seven years since they put me here. I don’t know what this place is, it’s all white and lonely. Sometimes I hear people laughing and whispering but maybe it’s just me that laugh about the funny spectacled people in white coat. They talked about stuff that I don’t understand. I know all of this because the walls talk to me; they tell me everything I need to know. I don’t know how much longer they’re going to keep me here.