Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

I marched right past Noah on the curb, who was still begging and pleading for me to stop and go back home, and I walked up the porch steps and knocked loudly on the door. “Who the fuck is that?” I heard a man’s voice shout. “I-I don’t know.” That was Ray, and she sounded small and terrified. Her voice … so, so different from the woman I knew and so, so familiar from somewhere far away. “Well then, maybe you should answer the fucking door.” He was angry, condescending. I knew without meeting the man that I hated him. Ray did as she had been told and slowly opened the door to reveal her tear-streaked face and giant, baggy sweater wrapped tightly around her body. Her eyes widened at the sight of me standing on her porch, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, and she shook her head, just as Noah had done. “You have to go—” “No.” I stopped her, placing my palm against the door as she tried to close it. “What’s going on in there?” “It’s nothing. You have to go now.” “It doesn’t sound like nothing, Ray.” I kept my voice quiet. I didn’t want the monster inside to hear me. I didn’t want to get her into more trouble by simply being there—for caring. But if she was in danger—and it sure as hell seemed like she was—I wasn’t going to sit back and listen to it happen. “Just blink twice if you need me to do something, and I’ll do something right now.” She made a show of keeping her eyes open, void of any emotion but sincere warning. “What I need is for you to go. Please.” Her tone was ...