Mariola laid immobilized under the skeleton of leaves. She watched the pounding and the skittering of the rain above her head and falling between her eyes. She let the drop of liquid blue cover her face with dots like jewels. She let the cold soak into her like tissue in water. She let herself slowly meld into the drippity-drops of the water until all she could see, hear, and think was drip drip drip drip drip—

"You're not trying to melt yourself into the ground, are you?"

Mariola didn't move. Drip drip drip drip—

"Is the tree saying something to you? What's it saying?" The voice eagerly gushed and knelt beside Mariola. "Never mind, don't tell me. I'll listen for myself."

Rolling her eyes to the figure next to her, Mariola raised a quizzical eyebrow at Loma. Mariola hadn't seen her since Loma brought her to the Trunk Council. Actually, Mariola hadn't seen much of anyone since she sassily left the large oak tree with her tool box. She had spent the day searching for a tree to build her home; and it had to be perfect—trunk not too barky, leaves not too skinny, neighbors not too many, ants not at all.

Sure, people nodded to her and smiled at her. Mariola only focused on finding a tree, a home, an ember of hope. Then the rain came. The hope dissipated. And Mariola laid down and gave up. Did they expect her to build a house in five hours? Did they think that she would somehow have the knowledge of using wooden planks, nails, and tiles in her fuzzy memory? The thoughts swirled around her and pounded into her mind like the rain, and she let herself become awashed by it.

Then Loma came. The woman now chuckled, squishing her right ear into the grassy ground. "I don't hear anything. What about you?"

"Go away," she muttered, her voice surprisingly hoarse.

"Well, technically you should go away. You're laying under my house."

Stretching her neck, Mariola looked up to see lanterns swaying on wooden posts by a door that she did not see before she collapsed onto the ground. "Oh," she merely said.

"So, you wanna come in or not?"

"No. Go away."

"Alright, alright."

Loma went away, the squeaks of the ladder in tune with the rain. Mariola shivered.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? Who was that man who sent her here?

A warm, fuzzy thing fell on top of Mariola's head. "Here," Loma shouted out from her house. "Dry yourself up before you catch your death."

Death. Mariola held the towel in her pale fingers then threw it aside. Was death better than the hell she had been placed in? Maybe. All she had to do was go out to the rain, let the cold seep into her skin and lungs and cells, welcome the darkness that wouldn't mock her empty memories, wouldn't dump her in a land of oak trees and rain, wouldn't make her feel so helpless and alone—

Warmth. It burst across her skin and left her choking as the warmth hugged her tight. Without realizing, Mariola began to walk out of the canopy of leaves and into the edge of the waterfall of rain, where Loma stopped her. The elderly woman continued to wrap her arms around Mariola, eyes squeezed tight, wrinkles creasing hard.

Then the woman opened her sapphire green eyes that penetrated Mariola's. "I know you're scared," the woman started. "I know that you think this place is a hell, but death is not the answer." Slowly, hesitantly, the woman released her grip around the small girl; but her arms still hovered near, as if prepared if Mariola decided to run back to the deathly rain. Mariola didn't.

"I know that you have no idea what's going on here or why there's a house atop your head," Loma said, gesturing to the translucent shape that seemed to dance with the rain. "But you have to trust me when I say that this place is not a hell. I can answer your questions if you don't understand anything—"

Mariola edged to the pounding rain. "Of course I don't know what's going on here! I wake up in a crazy medical ward with a searing scar down my back. I meet this boy who said he knew me and who would protect me, but he didn't. I was stripped naked from this old man who seemed to be the leader of this Eden and who sent me down on some...elevator to this place filled with oak trees and soaking rain. Now here I am, standing underneath a tree house talking to woman with a glowing orb of a child on her forehead!"

Fuming underneath her soaked clothes, Mariola turned away from the woman, ignoring the burning sensation from her eyes and refusing to see the pity in Loma's eyes. This place, this hell, this world was not where she belonged. She didn't know who she was, where she came from, how she ended up here. Her pounding thoughts rattled her mind like the sudden shock of thunder in the background. She breathed in the scent of humidity and listened to the drip-drip-drip of the rain to calm her thoughts.

A sigh interrupted the peaceful song of the rain; and Loma spoke, "It was my wedding day when they kidnapped me here. I remember walking down the aisle, gripping my father's hand, when the Bot interrupted my ceremony. It seemed to scan the crowd, looking for someone, then it met my eyes. I ran, I scratched, I cried; but the Bot simply took me in its arms. Truman, my love, pounced on the Bot's back; b-but...the Bot simply lit up its rockets and..."

Touching the sobbing woman's hand in hers, Mariola said, "You don't have to tell me your story."

"No, I want you to hear it." Loma sucked in a choking breath. "The rockets lighted up the whole chapel, and I saw...I saw with my own eyes...all my friends, my family, my beloved Truman, become a-ashes..."

Not because of the cold, Mariola shivered.

"But..." She continued, scrubbing at her eyes, "The Bot flew me here. I saw countless other bodies being carried by many Bots, all flying to the same direction, to the same island. Before I came here, I heard rumors—the island of Eden. The Bots would take people who were deemed pathetic and stupid to be brought to Eden and never come back. I struggled and pushed, but the Bot only gripped tighter and then dump me at this helicopter pad where I met others, all crying and scared and shivering. A short red-haired woman greeted us and led us to a big room with mirrors. Then...she started dressing us up and shoving us through these red curtains."

Mariola nodded furiously. Samantha had brought her to the room of mirrors, and she did get shoved through the red curtains.

"One by one, backstage, each of us went out until it was my turn... And I saw this huge crowd of odd people wearing grey, then a-a voice of a man wished me luck on my journey..."

"Then the stage descended," Mariola continued for the woman, settling down to sit on the ground, "and you found yourself in a pathetic place of rain and oak trees; and you just collapse under a tree, wanting to die—"

The woman chuckled, an odd mixture of a sob and a giggle. "No," she said. "I came here, and I found a home."

Walking and bending over to retrieve the towel, Loma nestled down to sit beside Mariola and wrapped the slightly-drenched fuzz around the girl's shoulders. "The point is," she sniffed slightly but smiled, "is that this place is really not that bad. You've only been here for about a day. Give it a chance."

"How long have you been here?"

Loma cocked her head and rolled her eyes to the left corner. "Hmm... Nine years?"

Mariola jumped. "No, no, no, I cannot stay here for nine years. Years! I have to get out. I just can't—"

"Hush, child," Loma whispered, placing a gentle hand over the panicking girl's shoulder.

Panic, panic, panic—the emotion drilled through Mariola like the beat of the rain drops. She couldn't do this. She couldn't spend nine years here. She couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" The motherly woman asked softly, almost as warm as hot chocolate itself.

Mariola nodded numbly.

"Come, child," Loma said, pulling on Mariola's arm, bringing her away from the deathly rain, bringing her inside the woman's home.

Ushering her into a wooden box like the bottom of a hot air balloon, Loma pulled on the lever to function her elevator which shot up to her tree house. The girl hobbled like an old woman, and Loma shouldered her weight to bring her to a wooden bench.

So cold. Mariola felt so cold, inside and out. She shivered; and through her shaking eyes, she glimpsed the interior of the house arranged with wooden antique-looking furniture, colorful canvases of portraits, and pots of plants. Another shiver ran down her spine, and Mariola squeezed her eyes shut.

"Here you go." Loma pushed a steaming cup of heat entered Mariola's hand, and a sigh escaped the girl's lips. She brought the rim to her blue lips—

"Careful! You don't want to burn your tongue, do ya?"

No, Mariola didn't; but she was so numb that when her mouth softly cupped the drink, she hardly felt the sting on her tongue, only the warmth that seeped into her body. Lounging on the bench, another loud sigh escaped from Mariola.

Climbing onto the bench with her, the wood slightly bending, Loma sat down. "Are you alright now, girl?"

Alright? What did it mean to be alright? That she wasn't panicking and wanting to lie down in the rain anymore? "Yes, I'm alright now...ma'am."

"No need for that formality, child. Just call me Loma."

"Yes...Loma." Mariola smiled, her mouth feeling oddly stretched and tired.

"I forgot to ask for your name," the woman asked subtly and sheepishly.

"My name is Mariola; or, at least, that's what that man told me."

"Sir Eden? He told you your name?"

Mariola nodded.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Loma looked as if she was about to say something when she cried out, "Oh, sweetheart. You're shivering!" Fussily like a mother, Loma hauled the girl into a bathroom in the corner, piled a towel and a set of dry clothes into Mariola's arms, and rambled, "Go get yourself a warm shower now. I'll make sure your hot chocolate stays warm. I was halfway making my famous almond cookies, so I'll be making you those. You are going to love my cookies; everyone does! Oh, okay, you go shower now."

Winking, Loma shut the door and left Mariola inside a small bathroom, a puddle of water dripping beneath her feet. She turned around to the mirror, her feet sounding like webbed feet in a pond, and smiled. Slightly haggard and pale, Mariola stared at her reflection; but she smiled, crinkles folding by her eyes, at the woman's kindness. Perhaps Mariola had been overreacting. Perhaps she could find a home here. After all, she had only been here for about a day.

A flash. The orb seemed to bubble and jump on Mariola's head. A glowing liquid seemed to rise and fill the bottom of the house orb, splashing and swishing like a wave.

But Mariola didn't have the time to raise her eyebrows, gasp, or even blink because a  resonating bass drum pulsed through the air and drilled through Mariola's mind. She didn't have the time to take off her wet clothes or tell the sweet woman before Mariola mindlessly climbed out a window, followed the music, and became soaked again in the drizzling rain. The rain pounded as a rhythm that said Come, come, come, come; but Mariola didn't hear it. She became one with the sound as she and other figures entered the dark shadows of trees and didn't look back.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'*ﾟ▽ﾟ*'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

This chapter is pretty long, huh. Sorry! Do give me feedback if I should shorten it or add more details.
I am editing a few chapters here and there so don't be alarmed if some chapters don't connect very well... my fault.
I just want to say thank you all for all the support! Love you all 😁💖