POV: Adriana
Location: Reed Residence, Suburban New York
"Why does it always have to rain at night?"
I've always hated the rain—especially when it falls at night.
It tapped against the windows like a drum. Too loud to ignore, too soft to block out. Thunder rumbled across the sky like a growl. I hated nights like this because I had to force myself to not hear it. Not feel it.
I pressed my pencil harder against the sketchbook in front of me, trying to focus on my drawing instead—the sleeve of a suit jacket, the clean cut of the collar, the shiny buttons on the dress shirt.
Sketching fashion pieces was the only thing that made sense to me.
Lines stayed where you drew them. A stitch held things together. A seam could always be redone.
Unlike life.
The storm outside kept growing louder. It was hard to focus, but I kept going. I had to. I couldn't let the memories in. Rainy nights always brought them back.
The first time I truly hated the rain, I was twelve.
Mom had gone out of town for an FBI conference. She always left food in the fridge and told Regina to look after me. But Regina never did. She only cared about herself.
That night, Dad came home drunk and angry. He mumbled about being cursed, about how the universe hated him. I was sitting quietly on the couch, watching TV. I tried to be invisible.
But then he saw me.
"You little curse," he slurred, his eyes glassy and mean. "You're the reason everything is going wrong. You brought this bad luck on me."
I didn't even see the slap coming. I still feel it whenever I remember. Then came the belt.
I ran. Out of the house. Barefoot. Into the cold rain. Soaked and crying.
He locked the door behind me.
Regina stood in the hallway and laughed.
The next morning, the neighbors found me shaking on the porch with a fever. I was in the hospital for a week. Mom cried. Dad never said a word.
The second time I began to hate rainy nights was when I walked in on Regina and my boyfriend—Ben. They were wrapped around each other like snakes. No shame at all.
"I was testing his loyalty for you, sis," Regina said, smirking. Lipstick smeared across her face. "Turns out he failed. You're welcome."
I believed her then.
Now I know better. She didn't want Ben—she just wanted what I had. Even when I was invisible, I had something she didn't: someone who noticed me.
A loud crack of thunder dragged me back to the present.
I looked down. My sketch was smudged. My hand was shaking. I hadn't even noticed.
Then I heard the sound I feared the most.
The front door slammed. Loud. Heavy. My father.
"ADRIANA!" he roared through the house. "Where are you, you useless, good-for-nothing brat? This is all your fault!"
I froze. My sketchpad slid from my lap.
"You shouldn't have been born! You're a curse! A goddamn curse!"
I shut my eyes, but it didn't help. His words still sliced through me like knives.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Victor?!"
Mom.
Her voice came from upstairs. It wasn't loud—but it always made him stop.
"You disappear for days, doing God knows what," she said. "And the first thing you do when you walk in is scream at your daughter?"
"Daughter? She's the reason for everything bad that's ever happened to me!"
"No. You gambled everything away. You cheated. You lied. You stole. Don't blame her for your failures."
"It is her fault! From the moment she was born, everything went to hell! I lost everything!"
"Get out, Victor. Now. Before I make you wish you had."
He scoffed. "Fine. But this will all be settled tomorrow. Just wait and see."
And with that, he stormed out.
The door slammed. Harder this time.
Then… silence.
I sat frozen on my bed. My eyes were blurry. My ears rang. I tried not to cry.
"Maybe it really is my fault," I whispered. "Maybe if I wasn't born, they'd all be happy. Maybe then I wouldn't be hated so much."
Then My door creaked open.
I quickly wiped my tears. I already knew who it was.
Regina.
"Hey, fatty ass," she said with a smirk, standing in the doorway. "Give me some cash. I wanna order pizza."
I looked up at her slowly. "I don't have any."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You always have stashes hidden somewhere. Probably stuffed in your ugly ass closet."
Before I could say anything, she pushed into the room and started searching my drawers.
"Regina, stop! Please—"
"Shut up. You sound like a crying puppy."
She tossed things on the floor, then bent down to look under my bed. After five minutes of chaos, she stood up with a satisfied smile.
"Huh. Guess you really are broke. Tragic."
She swept past me on her way out.
"Later, fat ass."
I stared at the mess she left behind. My sketches were torn. My clothes scattered. My jewelry box was knocked over. My room looked like a disaster had hit it.
I curled up on the floor, arms around my knees.
This was my life.
Thin walls. No peace. No safety. No voice.
The tears fell without permission.
What a worthless life.
And still, the rain didn't stop.
But then something stirred in my chest.
What did Dad mean by "this will be resolved by tomorrow"?