Faith Rodriguez: "The Darkness That Surrounds"

I could feel him above me, watching and waiting, ready to unleash his acid rain the second I made a mistake. It was in that moment that I noticed the darkness surrounding, heavy black smoke swirling in tendrils. It invaded my vision, my lungs, my soul... It was toxic. Yet, I continued trying to please the cloud even though I knew my only chance at sunlight was the release of the precipitation. The rain would fall in tiny drops, letting out small streams of sunlight, and for a moment I could almost see my dad. But then a new darkness would fill the holes and he'd be gone again. I just wanted the cloud to disperse and let me have the person I so desperately longed for.

The first drop touched my shoulder and seared my skin. I winced, dropping the power drill that I had previously clutched tightly in my hand. I was soaked before the tool even hit the ground. The water burned and I desperately clawed at my skin, attempting to diminish the pain. A little precipitation of my own dripped down my cheeks and mixed with the toxic substance, staining my face in the ugliest way.
Dry it up, the cloud bellowed. Pick it up and start over.
The night went on that way. There would be small moments where my dad— the real one— would seep through and tell me it was okay. It was rare and it took the emptying of the precipitation, but he was there and that’s why I continued on.
When I took a shower that night, acid burns littered my skin. They were burns that were visible to my eyes only. I knew they weren’t really there and they were merely impressions of his words, but the gentle water of the shower stung nonetheless.
I wore long sleeves and pants to bed that night, avoiding any glimpse of the impressions. Once they were gone, more would take their place.
The painful cycle never ended.
Days bled into years of the torturous cloud as my body became scarred and unrecognizable to myself. My only escape was a mistake. A mistake that had been made by someone else that summer that had inevitably freed me from my own personal hell and sent me into another. I welcomed the new hell, with its walls of fire and heat. At least it wasn’t that damned rain.
I still carry the scars on my skin and reflect on them frequently. The cloud hangs over my head, whispering mistakes I’ve made when I’m alone in bed at night. But the cloud isn’t my father anymore.
It is an attachment I can’t rid myself of and I don’t dare let it rain down on anyone else. How could I subject them to something so awful? It is a cloud of things I hate about myself and it touches every part of me. It curls around my legs and tangles itself in my hair. It leaves scorch marks across my stomach and invades my lungs, filling them to the brim with its poison.
The moment I was touched by the acid rain, I consumed the darkness. The cloud follows me wherever I go and reminds me of things I cannot change. It leaves chaos and destruction in its wake as it takes over who I am.
The cloud has become something far worse than my father.
It’s me.