Chapter 44 - A Dense Rain
***Harper***
It takes me a moment to process when Alex kicks me out of the car. Was this really happening?
"What he wants to say with that?" He married me to get revenge for something I did to Sarah? I never did anything intentional to hurt my cousin! And she herself understood what I made her go through when she was at her worst. Sarah and I never had any disagreements. Never fought. We were best friends.
And now Alex was throwing me out of the car for me to "suffer all the harm did to Sarah"? I really didn't understand what he meant by that.
As soon as I got out of the car, he sped off. I found myself in the rain on that road outside the city. It was a desolate stretch, flanked by towering trees of a dense forest. Their branches reached out like skeletal fingers, swaying ominously in the gusts of wind. The sky above was a dismal shade of gray, heavy with the weight of impending storm clouds. The rain poured down relentlessly, drenching everything in its path.
I ran under a sturdier tree, trying to get as little wet as possible. Its branches and bulky canopy would help me until the rain got worse. But even the shelter of the tree couldn't shield me from the overwhelming sense of despair that washed over me.
I searched in the small handbag I was carrying for my cellphone. I glanced through my contacts, looking for someone to call, but it was no use because there was no signal there. What a nuisance!
It would be about two kilometers to Alex's house. No, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me arrive soaked. The thought of trudging through the rain-filled road, alone and abandoned, only added to the heaviness in my heart.
I remembered that before we entered the road that cuts through the forest, we passed by a gas station. Maybe there would be a taxi there, or my cellphone would get a signal again. With that, it would be easy to call one of my college friends and have them come help me.
I started walking toward the station and saw a woman walking toward me, her head down. I even wondered what that poor soul was doing in the rain on a road like that, in the evening. Maybe she also married a crazy husband, like me.
As we stand shoulder to shoulder, she seizes my wrist, spinning me towards her. In her hand gleams a small knife, and her face is contorted with rage and malice, leaving no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to harm me if I provoked her. Despite my efforts to remain composed, a startled cry escapes my lips involuntarily.
"Quiet now, unless you want a scar on that pretty face," her voice drips with cynicism, and a foul breath wafts from her mouth as she draws dangerously close.
"What do you want?" I inquire, trying to maintain a steady voice despite the mounting fear.
She offers no reply, releasing my wrist to snatch my purse from me.
"I want that ring too! And that bracelet! That tiara! And the shoes! I'd take the dress too, but I'm short on time. Hand over everything!" she commands, pressing the blade of the knife against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that's not solely due to the chill. With the rain intensifying, my already sodden dress clings to my skin, adding to the desperation of the situation.
After the robbery, I sprinted toward the gas station, my heart racing like a wild stallion, pounding against my chest. Adrenaline surged through my veins, driving me forward with every step. My dress clung to my skin like a second layer, soaked through by the relentless rain, making each stride feel heavier than the last.
I was consumed by fear and desperation, my mind racing with thoughts of escape and safety. But I pushed on, driven by sheer determination and the instinct to survive. The sound of my own ragged breaths filled my ears, drowning out all other noise as I ran, my feet pounding against the wet pavement.
As I approached the flickering lights of the gas station, a surge of relief washed over me. I skidded to a halt, gasping for breath, my chest heaving with exertion.
Upon seeing my panicked state, a man working at the gas station, his fluorescent jacket reflecting the dim light of the lampposts, approached.
"Miss, is there a problem?" His voice sounded concerned, while his dark eyes scanned my distress.
"I've just been robbed! Is there somewhere I can make a phone call?" I try to speak as calmly as possible, though the words come out poorly pronounced and in between long breaths.
"Yes, in the convenience store. Come, come have some water and we'll call the police!" He extends his hand in a gesture of offering, his face conveying genuine solidarity.
I look around, noticing the details of the gas station. The smell of gasoline hung in the air, mixed with the sweet aroma of fried food from the nearby diner. The weakened lampposts cast a yellow light over the area, creating sinister shadows that danced in the wind. The small convenience store, with its shelves stocked with snacks, cold drinks, and dusty magazines, seemed like an oasis of normalcy amidst the chaos of the rainy night.
"No, there's no need to call the police. But I'll accept the water." I thank the man, following him towards the convenience store, where I hoped to find a moment of calm amidst the storm that had descended upon me.
Upon stepping into the store, I find solace in the warmth that envelops me. The overhead lights cast a gentle glow over the modest interior, illuminating rows of snacks and drinks neatly arranged on shelves. The air carries the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of sugary treats.
I sink gratefully into a chair near the counter, the worn upholstery providing a sense of familiarity amidst the chaos of the night. The young man behind the counter approaches with a sympathetic expression, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.
As he hands me a thick coat to drape over my damp dress, I can't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. Though it does little to dry my soaked clothes, the gesture offers a semblance of comfort in the midst of turmoil. With trembling hands, I wrap the coat around myself, grateful for its warmth.
"Thank you," I murmur softly, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Tomorrow, as soon as I get home, I'll come back to pay you."
"Don't worry about that!" the young man reassures me, his tone kind and understanding. "Here's the phone if you want to call someone."
He leaves the cordless phone on the table beside me before returning to his duties, his movements purposeful yet gentle. As I watch him organize the stock with quiet efficiency, I feel a pang of guilt for intruding on his night. Gathering my courage, I approach him with a tentative smile.
"I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name," I begin, my voice wavering slightly. "I'm Harper."
"Pleasure, Harper," he responds warmly, offering me a reassuring smile. "I'm Michael."