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Chapter 1:
Rain Always Comes Before Storm
Rain poured down in Oak Point Chicago ? it had been like this for seven days now. It had not stopped since it began on the evening of May 14, not a single moment had it stopped, to take a break ? no it had just kept raining. It had even gotten that far, the news had started to suggest a flood in the little suburban, but the rain was just falling and falling, to only disappear as the came ? covering the already wet asphalt, there had before, been dry and firing hot from the burning sun.
The streets had been left deserted, with only the puddles to keep it company. It was knocking on the windows in the same rhythm as it had begun, hard and threatening. Sometimes a dog would be let out for a few minutes, only making it bark to come inside, in the warm and cosy house again.
There were no longer any bees buzzing, or birds singing lovely songs. There were no longer any happy kids, running around barefooted on the street playfully. There were no longer any garden stuff to do; it was now left to the rain, to repair the drought?s damage. There was no longer any possibility to repair your truck, without the rain interrupting your concentration. There was no longer any reason to wash your car almost naked, for attention ? the rain would now take care of it. There were no longer any noises from a motorcycle, driving fast away from a certain driveway. There were no longer any pool guys, cleaning the pool water. There were no longer any book reading on the front porches ? and what would it be good for? The rain would only ruin the papers in the book. There was no longer any shopping done, only the necessary. There were no longer any footballs thrown though the garden with so much force it could break a window. There were no longer any vases thrown into any walls anymore ? no it was all quiet on Madison Lane.
But somehow the neighbourhood had become more beautiful of the sudden rain.
The grass was of a dark green colour, the rain had changed its colour and looks. It now looked healthier than ever before. The trees and bushes had finally begun blossoming ? and the strawberry plants in Mr. and Mrs. Johnson?s garden had finally gotten red berries, instead of green. The vegetables in the vegetables garden seemed fresh now, instead of dried out. The pink hydrangea there was growing up along the Johnsons? house and also had gotten a different colour ? the colour Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had been looking for.
The birds had been hitting in the bird houses, people had been so nice and creative to put up, in various corners of their gardens. At times they would stick their heads out, and go look after food ? to return with a few worms in their mouths, or in a rare occasion fly by a bird bath ? taking a bath or get something to drink.
Kids were now doing indoor activities, as drawing or playing with their new toys. Watching TV or movies with there parents, who were trying to make them forget what had happened, just a week ago. Even though the kids had a hard time understanding why some of their parents were crying, they would assure them that Annabella was in heaven ? a much better place than earth, something their own parents had taught them. The parents would smile and cuddle up in the corner of the sofa, hugging their child and hoping that they would never have to go though this horrible thing.
The pool in Annabella Montez?s garden had been covered through a plastic foil to prevent the rain from flooding into the pool and dirtying the pool water. The rain was dripping down of the different picket fences and leaving a wet trail behind them. The deck chairs were no longer standing by the pool and in the garden beside the Montez family?s household, was Megan Foster?s football lying. It had not been touched since the day Annabella had seen her playing with her brothers under the dazzling sun, a day she could remember as if it had happened just yesterday. Sun rays had caressed their faces and had turned them into angels. Now the ball was lying innocently there, waiting for someone to kick it over the grass but none was there. Not one single person.
Across the street of the Madison Lane number 657, the flowers on Mrs. Jones front porch had gotten a deeper colour. The cushions in the wooden arm chairs placed on the porch had been taken away. There was only one ashtray placed on the little glass coffee table which stood between the chairs. There were now only imagining images of Mrs. Jones watering her plant, at the mailbox, and Leah sitting on the white wooden front porch reading her favorite book.
A couple of houses down from Leah Jones? house, you could see a house named Nymphedora ? written above the big front door. It was a big white concrete covered house built up in the 18th century, with dark brown windows along the walls. The rain had an effect on the house which was not really describable with words. It simply looked beautiful. It had an innocent aura around it ? it seemed so perfect for a family to live in. Here Victoria Harlem was living with her parents and her older sister, Sahara. A family there was far from perfect!
Gabriella Stevenson was living at the end of the road. Her white Mercedes was parked outside the house; it had not been touched for days now ? even though she had planned a trip up to her boyfriend?s parent?s country cottage. The house was the latest to be build ? and the outstanding details on the house made people take a yet another look. If you looked carefully, you could catch a glimpse of a wooden build tree house, in a big oak, in the backyard. A tree house beautiful made with a man?s bare hands ? a house there had been used to several occasions, but was now drenched from the rain.
At times you would find Mike Hamilton?s bearded face looking out of his kitchen window, looking in despair. When would this madness stop ? when would the endless rain discontinue falling? He questioned himself every single time looking out. His concerned look, there flexed between four houses. In the past seven days it had been dead ? the houses had been left in silence, not a single sound, not a single move, and not a single emotion had appeared. He would then finally look at the flowers, there had been left just outside Madison Lane number 657. He would shake his head over and over again, still not understanding what the hell had happened. He would then turn around, and go fix something broken in the ram shackled house he bought just six month ago, a place he had thought would make his past disappear ? a past he would more than anything, like to forget.
If you looked at the site of a green concreted house ? you might have seen Diane Sawyer sitting by her fire place ? sulking. No one would go look at houses when it was raining, and no appointments would be made when such a heavy rain was falling, a rain you couldn?t count on to stop. Even though she deep down couldn?t blame anyone of this rain, she was blaming it on one person, a person there had caught her much trouble ? Annabella Montez. She did feel sorry that poor girl, what ever troubles she now had, but deep down she now knew many frustrations would disappear, and when she thought about it ? she felt happy. She may be a cold hard bitch, but she liked it ? and that was the true Diane Sawyer, and she would think again; why should she change herself then.
Had you looked careful, you would have seen a motorcycle standing in the driveway, with all the flowers. A motorcycle there usually was only there a day a time. All though it had not moved in seven days now ? and the rain was now dripping down from it, washing all the dirt of it, and making it look all new.
A fog was slowly building up around the whole neighborhood. Making it looks like a lost part of the suburban ? a part left to it self, so distant from every other part of Oak Point. But if you looked carefully, then this part may be the most beautiful ? so blinding and comfortable to look at. A place so peaceful and memorable ? a place holding a big secret, a secret there was still lying as a big mystery, a mystery everyone so badly wanted to know the solution of.
In the end the rain was perfect ? perfect for a circumstance like this, and no one disagreed.
?Rain always comes before storm ? was it time for the rain to pass, and the storm to rise? I knew it was time for the storm to raise ? time to changes ? dangerous changes. See it like this; raindrops are pure and innocent, when they are dripping down from the sky, it?s beautiful and peaceful. But as soon as it stops and everything is clear ? you see everything. The troubles are lying just around the corner ? and they will hit like a storm. When I died the changes began to happen ? changes that no one was asking for, but changes that happened. Troubles appeared from every corner, attacking my friends every time they became vulnerable ? they needed to find their own way to protect themselves. They became defensive and emotionless ? and whose fault was it? It was mine; Annabella Montez."__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Author's Note; Please listen to the song - it's what insprired me to write the chapter and the sadness in the song's intro reminds me of this chapter. Imagen it's a TV show and it's the intro of the episode. Also again thanks to Hatice to helping me to start this chapter. Love you girl. Happy reading. 
