This is the opening for a new story idea I have. Probably won't continue it on here, unless ppl want me to, since I already have 2 stories to continue with...


I am watching myself.

I watch as the rain tears down and attacks from above, biting into my bare shoulders and plastering my hair to my head. A tear-like drop falls onto my cheek and carves a pathway, but I walk on, ignorant. I watch in black and white as my steps quicken and I hurry lightly down the steps, in a rush to be out of the rain and down into the relative dryness of the subway. I remember that the sound of the cars splashing through puddles faded away as I descended. Suddenly the picture flickers and the view is different. Walking through the tunnel, staring straight down at the floor, water dripping from my nose, I almost smile as I watch my nose twitch but the figure that I am watching doesn't smile, so neither do I.

The view widens and I am watching as I emerge from the tunnel, into the wide open central space of the subway. The rain seizes its opportunity and increases in intensity, drenching my top and making it stick even closer to me; a second skin. A ridiculous cliché but it fits so closely, that's all it could be. As I walk, I look around and a visible shiver runs through me. I never worked out why that was. The rain? The lonely echo of the circle? It's irrelevant now. I watch myself slow and glance upwards at the grey sky, blinking as the rain hits my eyelashes. I watch myself look skyward and know that I never anticipated what happened next.

Footsteps behind me, I remember that. Faster, urgent and terrifying. I watch as I spin around, only to be met with a force greater than my own, knocking me to the floor, breath jarred from my body. I can see my mouth open in a silent cry and my eyes squeeze shut. Bad idea. Never close your eyes. A figure reaches down and grabs my arm, pulling me upright and I watch my eyes fly open at the touch. A hard shove and I'm up against the wall. There is dialogue, unheard on this black and white version of reality. Me, pleading and desperate, the figure cold and unyielding. A frantic shaking of my head, the tension in the air almost visible and then I watch as the violence starts. A slap, thrown to the ground and kicked. I remember that this is when my vision greyed and my senses faded until only the rain on my skin kept me in reality.