The sky cracked open just as I arrived.
Not a gentle drizzle—the kind of downpour that felt cleansing, urgent. The kind that reminds you nothing stays buried forever.
Inside the unfinished lodge, voices of different women echoed against plywood walls. The smell of wet sawdust clung to the air.
Leona was already there.
She stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the storm beat against the glass.
“Did You drive through that mess?” she asked.
“Didn’t want to cancel the intake.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Rain keeps the pretenders away.”
I smiled faintly. “Maybe.”
But I wasn’t smiling when I saw who was waiting inside.
---
The Girl Named Rina
She was small.
Too small to be here.
She was wearing a coat three sizes too big and shoes that didn’t match. She was…..Maybe nineteen, Twe
