Rain's POV
The Cell
I've been here so long, I've lost count of the days.
This isn't some stone dungeon from a storybook. It's worse. It's a small prison made of old wooden logs. The walls are rough and full of holes where cold wind sneaks in. The roof is broken in places, and rain keeps dripping down on me, making the floor wet and muddy.
The whole place smells bad — like wet wood, mold, and old blood. The air feels heavy, and every breath tastes dirty. The floor is always cold and damp, and my stomach stopped growling a long time ago.
But it's not the cell that makes it unbearable.
It's knowing who put me here.
Kai.
I should've known better. I tell myself that every night, curled up on the cold sandy floor, hugging my knees like a child. I should've seen what he was long before his father's body hit the dirt.
