By Beatrice Wielich
I was at my seaside's house in Cerenova. I remember the outside being the same but the inside looking like a hotel. There was a large room with a piano and a big vase of flowers, it was really, really big. In this room there were friends of mine. Everyone of them had plenty of cuts all over their arms. Everyone was dripping blood and casually chatting with the others as if nothing had happened. I can't remember anything else.