After the long tiring day, all I wanted was to sleep in my cozy bed, but the rain was too loud. Piercing into my ears. With thunder intruding between me and the steady falling of water from the gray clouds. I have always loved rainfall. We were meant to be friends. For as long as I can remember, thunderstorms and lightning always brought us closer as a family. We all woke our dried-up sore eyes to close the windows and put rolled up bedsheets like patterned snakes under the doors and windows. On those nights, my room was exactly how I wanted. Colorful and decorated.

But tonight, it was something else. The loud banging of the window was not comforting but terrifying. Forcing me to get out of my dry warm bed into the cold house. The shed door was slamming relentlessly in competition with the thunderstorm. Any minute the twins would have woken up and made the night even worse. But I could not let it happen. Not after the day we had.

The house still smelled of bleach which now made my eyes water. I walked down the stairs jumping over the creaking third step to avoid adding to the already noisy night. Only to fall and spraining my right ankle,. Clementine walked up to me licking my face. I was fine just still groggy from waking up too fast too tired. Twins had got a flu shot that day and were quite uneasy until the Tylenol. Adjusting into my rain boots my ankle made a fuss. Red and bothered but the boots cuddled it tight. Limping I went up to the door to find, Mango lying next to the main door. Now she was awake as well. I stepped out turning to face the two giving them the ‘don’t move or come out,’ look. Gladly, they understood. No one else could but they did.

The shed was dark and muggy. When I finally found the light switch, my eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the bright orange bulb. And I accidentally stepped on one of the bodies. The very dead and wet bodies, thanks to the rain. They were supposed to be buried yesterday with the others. But the storm had made it next to impossible for me to dig any more than 2 deep-enough graves. I was getting old too just like Clementine and Mango. Shutting the door and locking it up this time to avoid anyone slithering inside, I wobbled my way to the house. I was barely 10 steps away from the porch step when I noticed Clementine and Mango standing still at the door, staring at me. The same way they had that night I killed my very first. Only this time, they looked sad and almost sorry. I could almost see tears in their eyes. What were they sad about? I had never let anything happen to them. I had always protected and fed them. I gave them a beautiful life even when I had nothing to compare it with. I was sure I was good to them.

And then, there was a loud noise. The loudest one so far. I felt both my knees cracking and my body following the cue to fall flat on the ground. The wet, mushy, and filth-ridden ground. They stood still watching over me, as they had always, with forgiveness. Leaving me exactly, where I deserved to be. In the storm, burnt from the inside, useless for anything else but to become a part of the dirt I was born from.  

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