The rain fell slowly over the small town of Ashwood. The streets were quiet, but inside a tiny, broken house at the edge of town lived a girl whose life was far from peaceful.
Her name was Maya.
Maya was only seventeen, yet her eyes looked older than the mountains. Every day she woke before sunrise, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. Her stepfather believed she existed only to serve.
"Wake up!" his harsh voice echoed through the house.
Maya quickly stood up from the cold floor where she slept. Chains were not around her wrists, but her life felt chained all the same.
She cooked. She cleaned. She stayed silent.
But deep inside her heart, a quiet voice whispered the same word every night:
"Help."
She didn't know who would hear it.
But someone, somewhere, eventually would.