I ing hate rain.

         It was all Kris could think as he limped down the deserted alley, bloody, bruised and now soaked. His mind clouded with thoughts of relieving the rejection he felt in his heart by slipping a cool sharp instrument across his wrist and bringing a new scar to the many others.       His excuse of rain trailed down his face. He did not deserve half the he got. His parents, gone from a car accident that happened before he could even enter high school. The many jobs he so desperately needed, lost because of the bruises and cuts that appeared on his face without given reason. The bullies at school he could have easily took on, if they fought fair for once. Kris kept it all inside. His face, emotionless. Earning him the title, Machine.     

 

      Everything suddenly turned black. My forehead and body were pressed against the wet floor. Great. I tripped over air. I pushed myself up off the ground onto my knees, only to fall flat on my again. Were those legs? A cold wave shook my body from head to toe. I gulped hard and turned my head to confirm, indeed, they were legs. White pants with large black stains all over, and the feet attached, barefoot. What the? I cautiously crawl over to see the torso that I couldn't see before due to a few garbage bags. It was a boy, he looked younger then me. His hair jet black and short, his eyes were closed and lips were slightly parted, as if he was sleeping. "Hello?" I call out to him. No response. Maybe he doesn't speak mandarin? Even still, he would have responded. I moved a bit closer, and called out to him once more.      No response. Don't tell me he's dead. I looked carefully at his body. No blood, that's always a good sign. His chest is moving so that means he's breathing. I pushed myself to my feet and looked around. No one in sight. I can't just leave him here. Against my better judgment, I picked him up from his legs and back, holding him close to my chest, bridal style. He lifelessly lied in my arms as I carried him the few blocks to my apartment. He felt almost weightless in my arms.        Once I got him onto my couch, I quickly ran to the bathroom, getting a towel and a first aid kit. I walked back to the living room, turning on the heat before kneeling by the couch. The first thing I did was dry his hair, face, and arms. His breathing was normal, so that was good. I placed a hand on his forehead softly. No fever. I then looked to his clothes, stained in black. I brought my index finger to one of the stains on his shirt and rubbed slightly. It felt warm and sticky, like blood, but of course it couldn't be blood since this was black and smelled like, I brought my finger up to my nose and smelled, nail polish? I stood up once more, this time heading to my room. I dug through my closet and retrieved some black sweatpants and a black h