Chapter 5 Dreaded

Chapter 5: Dreaded

RAIN'S POV

Rain walked through the narrow, winding alleys of the slums, her feet carrying her on autopilot as her mind replayed the brutal encounter with Damon. She couldn't shake the feeling of shame and humiliation that lingered long after the rain had stopped.

As she turned a corner, she saw the familiar sight of her makeshift home, a small, rusty shack with a corrugated iron roof. She pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside, her eyes staring the dimly lit space for any signs of comfort.

But even the familiar surroundings couldn't ease the pain that had taken up residence in her chest.

She fell onto the narrow bed, her body wracked with sobs. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

As she cried, Rain couldn't help but wonder if she was good enough. If her art was worthy of recognition. If she was worthy of love and respect.

The doubts crept in, whispering nasty things in her ear. You're not talented enough. You're not smart enough. You're not good enough.You are a sorry plant. You are a sorry tree.

Rain's mind was a jumble of negative thoughts, each one more crippling than the last. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of self-doubt, unable to find a lifeline to cling to.

The door creaked open and Alarie walked in, a bright smile on her face.

"Hey, girl! How was your day? Did you showcase your art to Savage Group of Companies?" Alarie asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm sure the CEO accepted and gave you a good deal."

Rain tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. She shook her head, trying to hold back tears, but they spilled out anyway.

Alarie's expression changed from excitement to concern as she rushed to Rain's side. "What's wrong? What happened?" she asked, wrapping her arms around Rain.

Rain buried her face in Alarie's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Alarie held her close, stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort.

"It's okay, Rain. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything," Alarie said, her voice soft and soothing.

Rain cried for what felt like hours, Alarie holding her the entire time. Finally, she began to calm down, her sobs subsiding into sniffles.

Alarie handed her a tissue, and Rain blew her nose, feeling a little better.

"What happened?" Alarie asked again, her eyes filled with concern.

Rain took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain. But as she looked at Alarie, she knew she couldn't keep it inside anymore. She had to tell someone, and Alarie was the only one she trusted.

***

"That fool!" Alarie paced in furry. "So proud and full of himself!"

"Alarie," Rain's voice was calm. "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine!" Alarie walked closer to Rain. "He didn't even give you a chance to speak...who the fucking hell does he think he is? He judged you and your existence and journey without hearing from you."

"Maybe I'm not good after all. Just let it go, Alarie." Rain looked away. "I am a sorry plant." She licked her lips, fighting the tears that threatened to rain. "I am a sorry tree."

***

The evening sunlight had long since surrendered to the soft, silken darkness of the Savage's dining room. The air was heavy with the scent of old money and refinement.

Damon's parents, Reginald and Catherine Savage, sat at the head and foot of the table, respectively, their faces stern and expectant.

Damon, seated to his mother's right, fidgeted with his napkin, his eyes darting between his parents. He knew he was in trouble.

"Damon, we've received word that a young artist was supposed to showcase her work to us today," Reginald Savage began, his voice low and measured. "We were told she was exceptionally talented, with a unique perspective that could be a valuable asset to our company."

Catherine Savage's eyes narrowed. "But instead, we hear that you walked her out of the building. Care to explain?"

Damon's mind racing, he attempted to think of a plausible excuse. But before he could respond, his father's expression turned stern.

"Damon, let me make one thing clear: we cannot afford to let talent like that slip through our fingers. Our rival company, the Smiths, are always looking for ways to one-up us. If we don't secure this girl they will."

Catherine Savage's voice took on a note of urgency. "We need to see her work, Damon. We need to know what she can do for us."

Damon's eyes darted between his parents, his mind racing with a plan. He couldn't tell them the truth – that he had humiliated and belittled her, and that she would probably never want to set foot in their company again.

So, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Ah, I can explain," he said, a charming smile spreading across his face. "Don't listen to gossips, by the way – she's actually my girlfriend and I wanted to introduce her to you myself. But she had an emergency and left. I was also afraid you wouldn't approve of her."

"Nonsense," Reginald Savage's expression changed from stern to surprised. "She is a creative, she could be an asset to us and that is all that matters, son."

Catherine Savage's eyes lit up with interest. "Really, Damon?" she asked, her voice dripping with excitement. "We had no idea you were seeing someone aside from Kylie Cruz."

Damon looked away quickly. "I ended things with Kylie Cruz and I don't want to talk about her."

"Bring this new girl over for dinner tomorrow, son. We'd love to meet her." Catherine said, smiling.

Damon's heart sank, but he maintained his smile. "Of course, mom. I'll bring her over."

As the dinner conversation continued, Damon couldn't shake the feeling that he had just dug himself into a very deep hole.