Rosalin Rooney liked the rain. It was calming. Just as she did when her parents started to argue, or when her brother got home with a woman in one arm and a box of beer bottles in the other, she snuck out and went to the nearby pond to be alone for a while.

She didn't have many friends, none that were people. The only ones she called "friends" were the dozens of frogs and fish in the pond. She once took her old camera out there and photographed every single one of the frogs, and stuck all the photographs on the walls of her secret room behind one of the walls of the attic. That secret room and the little pond were the only two places where she felt happy, content. The rest of the time, she felt quite…well, indifferent.

Nothing ever happened during her trips to the pond. Today, what seemed like a regular rainy Tuesday, was different. Rosalin had finished making a little toy boat out of an old plank of wood and her late grandfather's handkerchief, and she thought she ought to test it out. She walked out onto the pier and gently placed the little boat on the surface of the water, giving it a little nudge. The little boat sailed triumphantly for a few moments, eliciting an excited gasp from Rosalin, but the rain quickly brought the boat down and poor Rosalin watched, more disappointed than sad, as the little boat sunk, taking her grandfather's handkerchief with it.

She was about to get up and walk back to her house, when she heard something move in the water. It sounded quick, and the splashing sound it made was far too loud for it to have been one of the frogs or the toads. She kneeled on the edge of the pier, trying to get a better look at whatever had made the sound. The water was dark green, already difficult to see anything, and the rain didn't make it any easier. A sudden movement made her flinch. It almost looked like a person, swimming somewhere at the bottom of the pond. She leaned over the edge of the pier, careful so she wouldn't fall. However, her hands slipped and she fell in the water.