Seventy five lightning strikes. That is all that it took. Red always looked good on her and now it was even more striking. It was time to keep this secret quiet. There was nothing more that could be said.
The evening had started well enough with a gentle rain reminding her of her humanity. Raindrops brought a gleeful tap to her shoes. So heavenly. So human. Her skin bathed in the rain’s delight.
As she walked home she wondered what was next in her life. Her mind was heavy with worry. She knew too much and couldn’t spill a bean. She wanted to scream her truth or rather her truths that were swelling up within her. Yet all her life she had to keep quiet about it all. No one knew the full truth and at this point they probably never would. She knew what had gone into the garbage can that night 20 years ago. She knew what they had done at midnight. She knew it all. But young ladies were to not speak of such things.
The rain cleansed her. It cleansed her well if for just a few seconds. Her feet, muddied with the the rain overflow, were cleansed.
Then the lightning came fast and furious; 75 strikes in all. Her mind was struck by its violence and her being was no longer clean.
She walked into her apartment keeping the lights off. Just like her mother she could walk anywhere like a cat. Her night vision was razor sharp. Or so she had thought. Then she felt a hot liquid coming from her mouth as she fell to the ground. She hadn’t seen this coming. Now they would all know. 75 strikes to her heart.