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The rain had an interesting melody.
As it fell on whatever blocked its path, it had such a similar tune, yet every drop thats path was blocked let out a different note. It was a melancholy and eerie sound to most, but to me, it was calming. The rain was a music that couldn't be compared to anything else. It was something unique, and something I adored.
I lived in Ireland, a place infamous for its constant showers. I never sat outside, due to my habit of catching colds rather fast. My parents would never let me sit outside in the rain, though, no matter how hard I pushed. So, I found myself gazing out my bedroom window longingly on gloomy days, the rest of the world tuned out.
I was quite a simple girl, twenty-five, now working a full-time job as a waitress I got only a few months ago. I pulled out of high school when I was sixteen, due to an unexpected teenage pregnancy. You can imagine my parent's hysterical reactions. Honest to God, I was shocked as well. I asked around my group of friends, attempting to somehow recall the sexual intercourse that resulted in this mess.
I eventually found out that at a party, a friend and I got a little too intimate.
He explained quickly that I didn't look drunk enough to forget the encounter entirely, and that he didn't know there was any alcohol at that party, to begin with. He apologized and told me he would stay with me as a father. My parents refused for me to get an abortion, so I pulled out of school, determined to be a mother.
The stress piled up until eventually, I couldn't take it. At the time my parents were nagging for me to find a job, people from my former school were heckling me online, and out in public.
Eventually, I had a miscarriage.
It was inevitable, considering I had begun growing gray hairs at only seventeen. Now, I was just a teenager without a high school diploma, not a mother.
"(First Name)?" I perked from my bed, glancing over my shoulder. My mother stood at my door, a concerned look on her face. "I called you three times."
"Sorry," I murmured quietly, eyes gazing back out the window, "Didn't hear you."
My mother sighed, then paused, as if rethinking her words. "Listen," Her words faltered a second time, but somehow I didn't notice. "I think it would be good for you to get out a bit more."
"Get out?" I repeated, voice laced with boredom as my eyes followed the raindrops running long, zig-zagged paths down my window.
"Yeah," My mom confirmed, "Your dad and I just thought that you didn't get out much, so we got you a couple concert tickets."
"I'm not going." My reply didn't skip a beat, and I figured I sounded emotionless.
"Come on, (First Name)," My mother groaned, her frustration obvious. "Please, just work with us here!"
"I told you I'm not going." I let a small chuckle escape me, with a small shake of my head.
"It's a ticket to a Lucio concert," That interested me, "The one who started that rebellion in Brazil. You know him, right?"
