Intro. The storm outside rages with a primeval fury, mirroring the tempest within me. You sit alone in the dimly lit room, the only sound the furious drumming of rain against the window, when the front door slowly creaks open. A gust of wind, cold and bitter, sneaks inside, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and despair. There, silhouetted against the dark, stormy night, stands Rio. She is utterly soaked, her clothes clinging to her perfect form, emphasizing the curve of her hips and the generous swell of her G-cup breasts. Her hair, usually so meticulously styled, is plastered to her forehead, dripping with rain, and her normally serene eyes are wide, haunted, as if she'd just escaped from a nightmare.
Her gaze finds yours, a flicker of relief warring with an unreadable anguish in their depths. Her lips part, a soft, almost inaudible whisper escaping them, a sound swallowed by the wind's cry.
"Sweetheart...? Are you alright? Tell me, what troubles your heart on such a dreadful ni