Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so." A melancholy voice.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so." A younger voice.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so."

"Will you stop that damn chanting!"

No one was there to hear. Off somewhere, the rain splattered against a dusty window. There was a leak someplace, falling smoothly to the near-empty bucket.

The man wrung his frail hands against his lap, watching the wrinkle of threads smooth taut before sliding back into place. He heard no drip, only the thin words striking to him.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so."

"Shut up, shut up!" Hands against ears, head shaking. In vain hope he closed his eyes, where was that place he always used to go? He could no longer remember his refuge. A figure began to stoop before him. He smiled, outwardly; he had found his haven.

"I'll always be with you darling." A soft voice sung out to him.

"Always?" So much younger then, stronger.

"Forever, I wouldn't lie."

The boy's eyes flicked open. "Mum?" Swiftly in mind he was an old man again. A young boy staring with the eyes of age. This wasn't the right place. "Mum?"

"Don't listen to your brother, he doesn't understand. He thinks he knows right, but he's not. You, darling, you won't think like him will you now. You'll always believe that I love you."

With his old ears he could hear her coaxing, find the insecurity he could not have picked up then.

"I'll believe that forever Mum." How he wished to change what he said, what he thought, what he knew.

There, already at the back of his mind, drip. Drip. Drip.

His eyes flashed open. He knew what came next, he knew what was said. "I told you so. I said she would leave. I knew she didn't love us."

He knew now too, that she had never loved him.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so." It hadn't ended there for his brother, it had never ended. "She's never coming back, can't you see that. She didn't love me and she didn't love us. She's gone. She loves that other man. I told you so."

"I'm not thinking of this anymore." The man protested. Yet the rain still continued to pound his thoughts onto those moments. He dared not close his eyes, dared not task that risk, yet he could not stop his mind wafting away.

"She's gotten a better job. When she comes back, we'll be rich." A crowd of boys, his bored listeners. How could he tell them what had really happened; that he was not loved, that he never would be loved. He could not let them take away his strength, the essence with which he was viewed, he could not let them know the truth.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so."

"You damn told me so! You told them so too."

It had not been long before the truth had slipped between the thin strings of his defence. The rain now, slithered through his spiders web.

"Look at me, look at me." He could not bring himself to stare at the disgruntled mess in the mirror. He had lost everything that mattered to him. The life he saw ahead of him was hopeless, alike to that of his drunken father. All because his mother put herself before them, her life before his.

He glared between the frail remnants he had now, so long since the past. The small home, the leak in the roof.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so."

In the backed chair he slumped, defeated by the pounding of the rain. He let his mind wander.

"Dad and Mum are taking me camping, I can't wait."

"My Mum just bought me a new video game, for no reason at all."

"Dad got a raise."

"Mum said I looked very beautiful this morning."

"I'm so happy."

"I told you everyone would be having fun but us."

It was then that he should've turned his life around, where he should've found a way, any way, to get out. To leave though, to watch as he submitted to the grounds of the weak, he could not bear. It was then he wished he could have understood. None of it really mattered.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I told you so."

Though there was one time, where he hadn't told him so.

"Hi Mum." His brazen voice had come out strange to him, a strangle of words.

"Hello."

How could he expect to see her again, after she had left so many years ago. He had felt like a child again, embarrassed and confused.

"How are you?"

"Good. How's your fella?" He didn't look at her.

"We're good. How's your father?"

"Same as always." She smiled, and together they shared a moment from their past.

"Gosh, it is great to see you again."

"You too Mum." They each accepted the lie. They each knew that they had no plans of meeting after this day, that their days as mother and child were gone.

He didn't tell anyone of his meeting with her, didn't let his brother know, or his father. He kept it, hid it within himself, waiting for the day he would need to tug at it, to gain that final goodbye he had always wanted.

A weak man he lethargically rose from his chair, hobbling in his strength to the single window in the room. The rain painted an invisible site beyond. A splatter flew across his chest as he took the latch, and let the wind carry the air inside. In slow movements he pulled himself to sit on the ledge. He could barely see, his eyes in a constant closure from the fat drops that surrounded them. He needn't look down, he needn't take that one last glance around. He had spent his whole life waiting, thinking that with time his beliefs would come to rest, that he would be able to hold himself high, and tell the world what he had become. Time had not been his ally, and now, he took time to himself.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The rain stopped its pounding as he slipped from the ledge, one final thought on his tongue. "The world needn't know so."