It was raining outside again.

The clouds were a dark shade of gray and were hanging over the area in a threatening manner. It rained often here, so it shouldn't be anything that I wasn't used to. But everytime it rains, it always feels like it's somehow mocking me. It was as if there were a bigger force somewhere out there, looking down at me and laughing at the pain.

Look at that little girl's tears.

Look, little girl, this is what you look like right now with those tears coming down your face.

I've heard people say that when it rains, it just means that the world is trying to wash away everyone's worries and fears.

There is supposed to be a better tomorrow.

But when it rains, all I can be sure of is that damn man will walk through the door tonight, drunk out of his mind, looking for something to complain about. Ever since my mother passed away, he seemed to find more and more things to criticize. Once he finds one little thing that bothered him, whether it be his dinner or simply that he didn't like the way the room looked, he would throw the first thing he could find. Then, he'd walked over to me with the most disgusting look in his eyes and taunt my tears.

"Why are you crying, baby girl? You know