(MAYA)
I've always liked the sound of rain. I find it comforting. When I was young, my mother would tell me that the rain washed away all the evils in the world. It was a new beginning for everyone.
Even nowadays, when I hear raindrops hitting my bedroom window as I lie there with my eyes closed, the rhythm is soothing. In moments like those, I like to pull my blanket over my head and drift off to the sounds of nature.
It's raining right now. I can hear the sounds against the glass. Only it's harsher.
And it's cold. So cold.
I shiver, my hands seeking my blanket. But it's not there. Did I kick it off the bed? Tired, I try to roll over to the side of the mattress, but my body comes into contact with something both hard and soft.
I sigh in annoyance. I reach out with my hand, and when I grasp the obstacle, I realize I'm holding somebody's knee. My eyes open. For a moment, I feel dazed and disoriented. Where am I?
The ceiling is made of wood. Wooden logs.
