Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

...Screams...

That was the first thing I heard while it was deathly silent outside. It was such a scream that it felt as if something tearing away from the sky had merged with the voices of people being ripped from their very spots. For a moment, I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. I looked around; people were rushing back and forth, scrambling to find a safe corner, bewildered by what had hit them. The sound of footsteps, the frantic breaths of the crowd, the crying of children... it all bled into one. The strange thing was, besides the screams, there wasn't a single other sound to be heard.

Sometimes, people are afraid without screaming. Something inside me whispered that this silence wasn’t normal—as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Dozens of questions were spinning in my head. Why is everyone in such a panic? What is happening? I kept wondering. What could possibly terrify this many people at once?

Until... I turned around and witnessed it. In that moment, my breath hitched in my throat. I was speechless. I had never seen anything like that in my life, not even in the most horrific movies...

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was as if a slow-moving film had suddenly jolted to life. The sky had turned pitch black. The clouds... they looked so dense, so heavy. Like harbingers of the apocalypse, they swirled slowly, accompanied by occasional, deafening thunders. The lightning bolts darting from within them were bright enough to blind me. Thick layers of dust shifted rapidly, swallowing the sky entirely.

And when I looked up, I saw them. Three massive tornadoes... moving side by side, only a few meters apart.

With their colossal bodies, they looked like three giants dressed in black garments made of clouds, walking in unison. They grew as they spun, and as they grew, they became even more terrifying. They weren’t human, yet it felt as if they were looking straight at me — choosing me. My heart felt like it would burst through my ribs at the sight.

For a heartbeat, I stopped breathing. My knees trembled. As the roar of the tornadoes drew closer, it wasn't just a hum anymore; it was turning into a howl. Everything was shaking: the windows, the roofs, even my heart.

There was a strange smell in the air. It wasn't exactly foul, nor was it familiar. But as it filled my lungs, fear seeped into my soul. It had a chilling quality. One could sense the approaching disaster just by the scent alone.

"No," I thought. "This can't be real!" But my feet were rooted to the ground; I couldn't move. There was nowhere to run.

Then, one of the tornadoes changed direction. It was coming straight for me. As it continued to advance, I began to scream, just like the others. As the sound left my throat, I couldn't even believe it was my own voice. It was a tremulous, muffled scream, as if it didn't belong to me. I couldn't even hear it myself.

Just as the tornadoes were about to sweep over me...

---

Suddenly, I snapped my eyes open. I was drenched in sweat, gasping for air. My hands were shaking. A nightmare...

I let out a deep sigh of relief. Seeing that I was in my bed, that everything was safe, gave me a brief moment of peace.

I got up quickly and put on my daily clothes. When I stepped outside, the beautiful morning air, the cool breeze, and the warm rays of the sun hitting my face slowly dissipated the fear inside me. "It was just a nightmare," I told myself. 

But some of the things I called nightmares didn’t fade when I woke up. I needed to tell myself that.

No matter what I did, I couldn't shake the effect of the dream all day; it was as if the weight of it had settled upon me.

I was very young when this all first started. Sometimes I think these events might have stemmed from a childhood trauma. Who knows...

•••

Before I continue, perhaps it’s time you knew who I am.

I am Sahra. If you were to ask me who I am, my answer would probably be: actually, I don't even fully know myself...

There has always been a distance between the person I see in the mirror and the one I carry inside. They used to say my eyes danced with light when I was a child. My brown eyes were truly brown back then; now... it's as if darkness has bled into them...

I was small, and my smiles were huge. I would laugh even if my knees were covered in scrapes, because those wounds... they didn't hurt. The things that hurt me were always in the invisible places. Everyone loved me as the "cheerful child," but no one knew how that cheer would one day turn into silence.

Then something happened, and it was as if I grew up overnight. On that winter night, in the middle of the snow... And there, for the first time, I heard a voice from within: "Don't believe anyone anymore..."

Since that day, I have always been two Sahras; one who smiles, and one who remains silent.

People say, "You've become such a strong girl"... whereas I only learned how to survive.

 Strength is sometimes just another word for not dying...

Now... I still hear those terrible things in my dreams sometimes. Actually, I shouldn't have remembered this. But I had realized it now: things had already begun to go wrong...

•••

Around four o'clock in the afternoon...

The sky suddenly began to darken. I paused. Was it supposed to be like this at this hour? It was summer, after all... I thought. Such an early darkness in the summer months was not normal. At first, I found it strange. But then, I felt that scent hit my nose...

Some fears are never forgotten. They only fall asleep.

First, my nose stung, then my lungs. A shiver ran through me. I froze.

Because I remembered that scent all too well...

.
.
.

Chapter Text

I flinched, certain that someone had whispered my name behind my back. There was no sound—I was aware of that. Yet there are moments when a person feels called, even in complete silence.

I whipped my head around. Three large poplar trees in the neighbor's garden stood side by side, like silent sentries on guard. In that instant, the shadow of the three tornadoes from my dream flickered before my eyes. 

“It’s just a coincidence,” I told myself. But another voice inside me whispered that it wasn’t.

A shiver ran through me. Even the slightest rustle of the leaves turned into an unexplainable tremor inside me—as if the remnants of the dream were still drifting through the air.

Driven by this unease, I suddenly sprang into action. I hurriedly put the chickens away, overfilling their feed and water, and bolted their doors shut. 

I thought that if I held on to the things I could control, maybe fear would let go of me too.

I didn’t feel at ease until I was sure everyone in my family was safely inside. I had a terrible feeling... like something was approaching.

Before long, the storm broke. Thunder, lightning, and the howling wind seemed to collapse upon me all at once. As the windows rattled and the walls shook with a thin ache, that ominous scent from my dream drifted into my nostrils again. 

“This is it,” I thought. It’s starting..

I had prepared myself for the worst. 

For the tornadoes...

The storm battered the house relentlessly for nearly half an hour. The sounds were so powerful that I thought, “The house is going to be swept away any second.” The clattering of the windows brought the moment of disaster from my dream vividly back to life. It felt as though only a thin veil remained between dream and reality. While I covered my ears and watched the outside world, the roar of the storm continued to play its own rhythm in the back of my mind.

Finally, the rain began. The sound of the rain slowly drowned out the fury of the storm, and suddenly nature grew still, as if a switch had been flipped.

I let out a deep breath. Contrary to what I expected, there were no tornadoes. This must have been an advantage of where we lived. No matter how much the wind raged, it didn't turn into a vortex... But the fear lived on inside me. Every time I caught that scent, I was on high alert. The same question every single time:

"What if the dream comes true this time?"

Days slipped by. Although I continued to catch that scent from time to time, the weather remained calm for a long while. But this calmness wasn't peace. It was more like the silence that follows something massive.

.
.
.

September 14, 2005.

The weather was extraordinarily beautiful in the morning. But when night fell, it was as if an invisible curse had spread around. That scent was back again. The house was silent; everyone was asleep. The night light on the roof swayed gently in the wind, casting broken, shapeshifting shadows on the walls of the room. The shadows chased one another, darkness playing the same scene over and over. I shuddered with every shadow. My thoughts and my imagination merged, gnawing at my mind. I couldn't sleep.

Then, I noticed it.

A silhouette.

Still. Silent. Like a figure emerging from some unspoken ritual... His head was tilted slightly to the side. He just stood there, watching me.

My breath hitched.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over my ears. No matter what happened, I mustn't open my eyes... maybe I just needed to wake up. The line between dream and reality had nearly vanished.

I pulled the blanket over my head. After a while, my breath grew shallow, and my face began to burn like fire. While beads of sweat trickled down my cheeks, the hums leaking behind my ears never stopped. Fatigue draped over me like a heavy curtain, and finally, I succumbed to sleep.

---

...Clicking sounds, strange noises, and horrific screams...

Screams rising from the nearby tunnel were scraping the inner walls of my brain. Muffled human voices, screaming as if they were being burned alive... My heart rate synced with the screams. I didn't dare look toward the tunnel; I was certain that a pair of eyes was watching me from the darkness.

And then, that face...
There were no footsteps. No movement.

Suddenly, it appeared before me.

Its eyes were locked onto me with terror and hatred—but it wasn't looking at me; it was looking into me. Into a dark corner of my brain. My breath came out as a strangled gasp. I screamed, but my voice remained muffled, as if buried in mud.

---

I jolted awake, gasping for air. The room was silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence... it was more like the silence of something holding its breath. The storm had died down, but the air was still heavy; it felt as if even the walls of the room were listening to me.

I slowly turned my head. There was a blurred moment drifting between wakefulness and dreaming... Then the image sharpened.

I froze.

The face...

It was looking at me from under the bed — far too close.

It wasn't blinking. It wasn't moving. It was just there. The same as in the dream... with that same hollow hatred. I wanted to scream, but my body was paralyzed under that gaze.

With trembling hands, I pulled the blanket over my face. That cold stare settled on my chest like a weight. My heart was pounding as if trying to punch through my ribs. Even when I closed my eyelids, that face felt etched somewhere inside me.

The next morning, I woke up sleep-deprived and full of dread. A dull tremor still lingered within me. I rushed out of the room. Yesterday's terror had sunk in so deeply that I couldn't even go near the bed all day.

Strangely, I didn't have any dreams for a few days—or at least, I didn't remember them. That face seemed pushed into the back alleys of my mind; it had faded but not vanished. It stood there like a misty memory.

Then, one day, our relatives visited. Since I didn't get along well with their children, I took my father's phone and went to my room. Everything was normal. I lay on the bed and played games for a few minutes. Without realizing it, I drifted off.

Then...

Something happened. A shiver passed through my body; as if someone invisible had touched my skin with their breath.

I took a breath. The air wasn't cold, but it was spoiled... tainted.

In that moment, I understood.

A strange energy had already seeped into every part of my body — and it didn’t feel like it would ever leave.

.
.
.

Chapter Text

It wasn't silence that first filled the room.

It was the cold.

It felt as though an invisible shadow had settled in the middle of the room, its breath mingling with mine. A tightening sensation, the cause of which I couldn't fathom but which grew steadily, began to take hold of me.

"You're overthinking it, Sahra... Calm down," I whispered to myself. But I couldn't.

This feeling wasn't ordinary fear. It was more like... someone was watching me, staring at me from right over my shoulder. A tingling sensation spread beneath my skin. Perhaps that was why I had suddenly turned to ice inside.

At first, I smiled to comfort myself. "It must be the kids," I thought. But that smile didn't last a second on my face because the laughter and conversations drifting from the living room told me they were all out there. So, what was this feeling?

To avoid surrendering to fear, I tried to focus on my game. My finger moved across the screen, my eyes were on the game, but my mind was constantly scanning my surroundings; whispers that something was moving in the darkness at the edge of my vision persistently filled my brain. At first, I ignored it, but whatever it was, it drew closer and closer; first a flicker, then a faint shadow, then a breath... It felt as if it were all right behind my ear.

My heart quickened. I told myself I was imagining it — the same lie I had learned to repeat whenever fear grew teeth. I didn't dare turn my head. The sensation that something was gliding toward me out of the shadows wouldn't let me go. My breath hitched in my throat.

And then... that thing suddenly appeared beside me. A bright, blurry, translucent silhouette...

I jolted. I immediately turned my face to look. There was nothing. I swallowed the breath stuck in my throat and let it out. "I'm imagining it, my mind is playing tricks on me again," I tried to reassure myself. But before I could even finish that sentence...

The silhouette lunged at me with sudden speed.

It was like a burst of light before my eyes.

I quickly covered my face with my hands; I wanted to scream, but not a single sound escaped my throat. It was as if an invisible hand had clamped around my neck. My breath was ragged, and my entire body shook as if it had slipped out of my control.

After calming myself down a bit, I was finally able to take a deep breath. I pulled my hands away from my face and opened my eyes... no one was there. But the void seemed to carry an echo, as if something had existed just seconds ago. While my heart was still racing like mad, I deluded myself: “Gaming fatigue,” I told myself. “That’s all it is.”

Just as I was about to get out of bed... the edge of the mattress sank.

This wasn’t a hallucination. Hallucinations don’t have weight. Whatever this was, it had learned how to exist.

Something was definitely there. It was invisible, but its weight was unmistakable. My blood froze. I straightened my head to look at that part of the bed. The fabric was taut, as if a body were sitting there. I shivered. My fingernails dug into my palms. Pain was the only thing I could still control. So I held onto it, as if letting go would mean losing myself entirely. I let out a small, muffled cry, scrambled away from the bed with all my might, and bolted out of the room.

The energy was still upon me even in the hallway. As if it were following me, as if a cold breath were being blown onto my back... Looking over my shoulder repeatedly, I ran out of the house.

As soon as I stepped outside, the air pierced my lungs like a sharp blade. I looked left and right, not knowing what to do. My legs were trembling. It felt as if the world were shifting beneath me.

Then... I suddenly noticed them. The voices of people...

There were a few people talking in the garden. In that moment, an almost instinctive cry—a reflex—awoke within me. I ran toward them. With every step I took, the pressure of the silhouette diminished. As I took the final step... that thing appeared behind me. It wasn't clear, but a faint face... a sharp gaze... for a fleeting moment, our eyes met. It seemed as though it couldn't approach me as long as I was with people.

It began to dissolve slowly before my eyes. Like smoke... Before vanishing, there was a slight movement on its face—or on that shadow that looked like a face. Suggestive... As if it were saying, “For now…” Then it disappeared completely.

In that moment, I understood: as long as I was alone, I was vulnerable...

Seeing that taught me something I would never forget: Strength had never meant standing alone. It meant surviving — however that was possible.

I didn't leave anyone's side all day. No matter who it was, I tried to stay in the middle of the crowd. I didn't want my fear to trap me. But at the end of the day, I knew... The night would come again. And when that night came... if I were alone, it would find me again.

.

.

.

I didn't want to go back to my room. Several times during the day, I was tempted to tell my family what was happening, but then I remained silent: "Who would take me seriously?" So, I buried my fears inside me.

Days passed like this. Nightmares came one after another. I would wake up with hallucinations, sometimes unable to distinguish which was real and which was a dream. I believed I was losing my mind.

One night...

I woke up suddenly, as usual. The room was dim. My grandmother used to wake up early for morning prayers. I saw her. Behind the table, she was sitting and praying.

Even in the darkness, her movements were discernible. I felt a bit relieved. But then, my eyes involuntarily drifted.

There was someone else at the foot of the bed. Grandmother?...

I saw them both at the same time. My mind searched for logic — desperately, foolishly — as if logic had ever saved me before. One was praying at the table, and the other was just standing there at the foot of the bed.

I couldn't move. My breath was knotted in my throat. For a moment, unable to believe my eyes, I looked from the table to the edge of the bed and back. Somewhere inside me, something quietly broke. After that, there was only darkness... I most likely fainted from terror.

When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I did was ask my grandmother about the night. It would have been better if I hadn't. Because her answer still echoes in my ears...

.

.

.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, my grandmother hadn’t even gotten up for prayer that night.

So then, what was it that I had seen? Why were they imitating her — and in two different forms at once? The questions clawed at my mind relentlessly, each one sharper than the last.

Fear was festering inside me, my mind desperately searching for an escape. First the nightmares, then these visions... Despite myself, I couldn't help but wonder:

Am I being haunted?

The thought crept in before I could stop it, insidious and sticky, spreading like a shadow through every corner of my consciousness.

But even if that were true, when had it all begun? My mind immediately went back to that night... to the shadow I had seen in the reflection of the light.

Could it be? Had I truly been cursed that night? But why? Why me?

.

.

.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into months — and the shadows followed me into every year of my life. Those things never let me go. I grew up, and they grew right along with me.

I wasn't as terrified as I used to be. I had learned to suppress the shadows and fleeting visions I encountered during the day by labeling them as "hallucinations." Yet, a seed of doubt remained. Because the things I saw at night... they didn't feel like mere dreams. They carried a darkness far different from anything I witnessed while awake, a living weight that pressed against the corner of my mind.

.

.

.

November 17, 2018.

One night, returning exhausted from university, I ate my meal and collapsed onto the bed without even changing my clothes. Sleep descended upon me like a nightmare, slow and suffocating, wrapping every limb in a thick, invisible shroud.

That night, my dream unfolded in layers. As I woke from one, I found myself trapped in another. There was no escape. Every opening I tried seemed to fold back on itself, collapsing like the ruins of a city I'd never seen but somehow knew.

---

I woke up with a strange sensation. Silence mixed with pitch-black darkness, making me feel as if I were suffocating... My chest tightened, every breath labored, as if the air itself had become a thick, impenetrable fog.

"Alone... again..." I whispered into the void.

In the last house we had rented, I had been sleeping with the girls — but now… There was no one in the house. I went outside. The silence was stifling. There was no one around, as if every trace of life had been erased from the outside world as well. Not even a speck of dust moved. It was chilling...

"Where did everyone disappear to?" I wondered, my voice swallowed by the emptiness.

The moment I stepped out of the garden... the house vanished behind me. I blinked. Nothing had changed at all.

I looked around in terror. The symptoms of a panic attack were rising one by one; my heart climbed into my throat, my muscles tensed in anticipation of unseen violence. I had always been afraid of loneliness, but this... this was an indescribable void.

As my eyes scanned the surroundings desperately, I realized: the other houses were gone too. In their place were only collapsed walls, ruins, and clouds of dust suspended in the air as if frozen. It was as if even time had forgotten to breathe...

There wasn't a laugh, a whisper, or the slightest movement. The silence was so heavy that my ears began to ring. Then, suddenly, my breath hitched. Right at that moment... a familiar burning sensation tore through my nose.

I paused. There was a scent in the air, sharp as acid and piercing deep—but it wasn't entirely foreign. That strange, burnt smell I had felt before in those dark moments... it had now taken on a much more intense, much more ominous form. It was as if the scent of fear itself had evolved.

Every breath that filled my lungs screamed, "Run!"

But where? Where can I hide?

Something inside me overrode my logic and took control. My feet moved beyond my will, as if my body were thinking in a panic before I could catch up.

I ran... without even knowing where I was going—just to avoid vanishing...

I took refuge in the nearest ruin. I slumped against a collapsed wall and pressed my knees to my chest. I was trembling. My teeth were chattering. Tears flowed involuntarily, and my jaw shook. The shadows seemed to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat, pressing closer.

"If this is a dream, please wake me up!..."

My inner voice began to beat against my brain like hammer blows.

No matter how difficult it was, I took a deep breath. But the air filling my lungs produced a muffled, sinister sound. A shiver ran through me. Then suddenly... I thought I woke up.

But no! I was still in the same ruins. "Did I actually wake up?" I wondered. Just then, a mosque appeared before my eyes. There was no such mosque in my dream. Certain this meant reality, I ran toward it.

The moment I stepped inside, waves of fear spread through me instead of peace. The shadows of the minarets merged with the darkness. "Someone must be here," I thought. I called out, but there was no answer...

Then... a deafening roar exploded. My knees gave out, and I covered my ears.

#$&!...

Whispers in a language I didn't understand, a song mixed with screams echoed. When I opened my eyes, I saw a group of robed figures spinning in a circle. It was a ritual!

I bolted outside in terror, but the sounds wouldn't leave me.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open. I was in my house... Everyone was asleep. I went outside to cast all the negative energy into the air and fill the void with fresh air; this darkness had to be dispelled.

The moment I opened the door, the roaring began again.

"No... this can't be!"

This time, I didn't succumb to my fear. I had to find the source. No matter the cost... I had to get out of here.

A massive vehicle appeared in the darkness of the street. It was equipped with a huge sound device. As it turned, it emitted those horrific roars.

The sound wasn't random. It was deliberate.

I couldn't see inside, but I could feel it: someone—or something—inside was mocking me on purpose.

As the vehicle passed in front of my door, I heard faint words... muffled, dark, sinister.

While the sound gnawed at the inside of my head, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

---

I woke up with a deep gasp. When my eyes opened, I was in bed. But... my right hand was still suspended in the air. I found this situation strange. In my groggy state, I couldn't understand anything.

I looked around. I was home, and everyone was asleep. Was it real, or still a dream? To be sure, I gave my arm a hard pinch. I buried my scream inside. The pain was real. I had finally woken up.

I grabbed my phone. I tried to type the words I had heard and searched for them online. No results on the first try. Then, they appeared in the suggestions:

Invocatio | Exsecratio | Daemonium | Maledictus

My eyes locked onto the screen.

Summoning | Damnation | Demon

. . .

CURSED...

.

.

.

Chapter Text

The word on the screen felt as though it had been etched into my eyes, a jagged, burning mark that refused to fade. My throat went dry, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs it felt as though it would burst. I barely managed to keep my fingers from dropping the phone, but suddenly… everything blurred.

My eyelids grew unbearably heavy—this was not a normal sleep. It was as if an invisible hand had gripped my forehead and was pressing me down, deeper and deeper, into the darkness. I fought it, every fiber of me resisting, yet my body betrayed me, unwilling to obey the whispered commands of my mind.

“No… not now… please… not now…” I murmured, my voice breaking, my body trembling, but the darkness laughed at my pleas.

The weight of the nightmares settled on my chest, each breath a labor, a struggle against a pressure that seemed alive, intent on dragging me to the very bottom of unconsciousness. Even with my eyes open, sleep pressed down on me like a living weight. Shadows flickered across the edges of my vision; the phone screen dissolved into black, and my mind teetered on the edge.

The last thing I remember, before everything finally gave way, was sitting on the edge of my bed, my head slowly falling forward. A whisper, so faint I barely caught it:

“It’s not over yet.”

And then… darkness swallowed everything.
. 
.
.
When morning came, the unease still clung to me. My mind lingered within the confines of that dream, trapped beneath the lingering weight of fear and isolation. Being away from my family—away from my mother—pressed like a heavy stone against my chest. With them, laughter could chase away the shadows, fears could be diluted and shared; but here… in this house, the air felt thick with its own resentment, the walls colder than reality, the curtains perpetually half-drawn. Even the sunlight that seeped in seemed washed of warmth. Walking down the hallway, my footsteps failed to echo, as though the very heart of the house had ceased to beat.

From the day I first enrolled in university, this house had carried a presence—a heavy, foul energy that seemed to watch, judge, and wait. Everyone and everything appeared poised to resent me, or perhaps the house itself resented my intrusion. Comfort was impossible.

I went out to the garden. The cool morning wind brushed against my face, carrying the scents of mint, wet earth, and fresh air into my lungs. Yet even these natural comforts felt incomplete, half-muted by the lingering gloom. The chirping of birds sounded mocking—an alien, unkind music to my already frayed nerves. My heart fluttered erratically, and all I longed for was my mother’s voice.

I sent her a message. She called immediately, her face appearing on the screen amid the familiar chaos of the kitchen.

“You’re okay, right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice faltered, cracking under the weight of everything I did not say. Those few minutes of connection offered a fragile balm, yet even then, time seemed to move with deliberate slowness.
.
.
.
A few days later, trying to escape the weight that refused to loosen its grip on me, we visited an orphanage with friends. The children’s laughter reached inside me, brushing away some of the darkness—if only temporarily. For a few brief hours, it felt as though the shadows had retreated.

But the moment I returned home, the oppressive air collapsed around me once more.

The house was silent. The other girls had left for work or university. Only the echo of Kübra’s faint, “Oh, you’re back?” lingered, her voice a ghost among the walls. She slipped out quietly soon after, and not long later, I locked the door behind myself.

In the kitchen, the soft hiss of the kettle sounded impossibly loud in the empty house. I poured tea into a tulip-shaped glass, the warmth seeping into my fingers but failing to reach the icy tendrils of unease curling inside me.

Then my eyes drifted to the hallway. A shadow slid silently along the wall—thin and fast, like a wave of darkness breaking upon a shore.

Only seconds later—so briefly it felt unreal—as if nothing at all had occurred, a girl I did not recognize emerged from one of the bedrooms. The dim light hid most of her face; the shadows gathered around her eyes made me shiver involuntarily. Leyla’s words from a few days prior resurfaced sharply in my mind:

“Hande is coming over, I just wanted to let you know—don’t overthink it.”

My pulse quickened. This must be Hande, Leyla’s visitor. She stepped closer, offering a faint nod, a ghost of a smile.

“Enjoy your tea,” she murmured.

“Thanks… by the way, welcome. You’re Hande, right?”

Her smile lingered—vague, unsettlingly faint—before she turned away, the door closing softly behind her. My stomach twisted. Something about her presence unnerved me.

I sipped my tea. My lips were dry, my vision blurring as steam rose like fogged glass. That same shadow passed again, swifter this time. The glass clinked lightly against the saucer.

Enough… I muttered to myself, my palms clammy.

I reached into my bag, pulling out a sedative and pressing it beneath my tongue. The click of the metal cap echoed too loudly in the vacant house. My breathing steadied, and I clung to the simplest of thoughts: if the guest was still here, I would offer her tea—maintain at least a thin thread of normalcy.

Moving quietly down the hallway, I called out, “Hande?”

Silence.

I tried again. “Would you like some tea?”

Nothing. My chest tightened. I knew I had to check the room she had entered.

The hallway doors were closed, as if anticipating my arrival. I touched the handle of the door Hande had shut—it was ice-cold. I pushed it slightly; it opened without a sound, the silence mocking me.

The room was empty. The lace curtain hung motionless. I searched the floor for shadows, the walls for a silhouette… nothing.

I checked the other bedrooms. Empty. Dust hung suspended in the air, frozen and untouched. The beds were undisturbed, the covers smooth and flat.

The house was completely empty.

Back in the living room, the thought returned, sharp and insistent:

Where is this girl?

Then the thin, intermittent drip from the kitchen abruptly stopped, as though the house itself had drawn in a breath. Ice slid down my spine; my palms slicked with sweat, my legs weakening beneath me. The ticking of the living room clock had vanished.

From the deepest corners of the house, an almost inaudible whisper brushed against my ears. My stomach clenched.

With trembling fingers, I unlocked my phone and texted Kübra:

When you were home earlier, were you alone? Or did you see anyone when you left?

“Typing…” appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Those few seconds stretched into a lifetime, each heartbeat louder than the last. At the end of the hallway, atop the doorframe, my own shadow flickered.

When the answer finally appeared on the screen, my body went cold:

…“NO”…
.
.
.

Chapter Text

For a moment, I couldn’t even blink. The word on the screen didn’t explain anything—it only hollowed the space around me.

And then, the silence returned. 

The walls, the clock, the air… everything was mute. Time neither moved forward nor flowed backward. I was the only thing in motion. Or rather, my body was—having long since escaped my control.

My heart hammered wildly inside my chest, the only sound that didn’t belong to this silence, filling my ears. The world turned into a blurred veil before my eyes. My hands trembled, and the strength in my knees slowly drained away, yet my body remained upright. I was like the only living thing left in a frozen world.

The silence wasn’t broken; rather, somewhere within it, a weight leaned toward me.

Then, as the deathly silence fractured, strange whispers began to strike my mind. It was as if dozens of people were whispering into my ear at once. As the voices grew, so did the dissonance in their tones—muffled hatred, mocking laughter, high-pitched shrieks.

"Why are they here? What do they want from me?" I whispered inside my mind, though no answer came. Only my own pulse thudding, relentless.

Then it felt as though someone released a breath onto my neck; an ice-cold puff of air brushed the nape of my neck. My hair stood on end. My heart accelerated, but my feet refused my commands. Turning around felt like a death warrant, yet staying still felt like a different kind of sentence.

Gasping and shivering, I broke into a cold sweat and closed my eyes. Before I could gather myself, another powerful whisper came.

“Sahra…”

My own name echoed through the room—again and again—an almost invisible hiss seeping from the walls and settling into my ears, muffled, deep, cursed.

“Sahra!”

As my heart slammed against my ribs, my knees gave out. Yes, there was fear, but beneath it something heavier collapsed inside me. A familiar weight.

A powerful electric current surged down my spine—sharp and sudden—jolting my entire body. The sensation spreading through my chest wasn’t panic. It wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak. One feels the coldest when they remember they were wounded in the very place they should have been protected.
. 
.
.
My eyes remained closed, but the space around me shifted. The air sharpened; the cold began to burn my lungs as I breathed. Without realizing it, I had been pulled back into that winter night—the moment my grandmother slammed the door in my face.

***

I remembered that night.

The cold.

It was a cold so sharp that every breath felt like fire in my lungs. The snow reached my knees. The crunch beneath my feet with every step echoed like bones breaking. My hands turned purple, yet it was my soul that froze faster than my skin.

That night’s snow wasn’t silent; it was laced with the howls of jackals, each echo a threat. But it was my grandmother’s voice that echoed most in my mind:

“Liar! May God turn you to stone!”

Her expression remained etched into me—blank, unyielding. Her gaze was harsh enough to make me forget I was a child. When she closed the door, I knew she wouldn’t open it again. I made no sound. I didn’t even cry.

I remembered the warmth of blood in my mouth, mingling with the blood from my nose. Even that warmth seemed to turn cold, as if trying to escape me.

The jackals drew closer. My siblings stood beside me, their small bodies shivering with mine. We tried to hold each other, but our arms had no strength left.

Something broke inside me that night. Childhood. Protection. Love. All of it ended with the closing of that door.

Then something happened.

For a moment, a surge of rage rose within me—a fire I didn’t recognize, replacing fear. I don’t remember the words that left my mouth. I only remember curses slipping past my lips—fear, rage, and a hex entwined as one.

Every time I returned to that memory, a knot of ice formed in my throat. In moments of anger, shame, or fear, that knot always returned.

***

I tried to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I was back in that house again. The walls were the same. The darkness was the same. But the cold inside me remained. When moisture seeped through my lashes, I couldn’t remember when I had begun to cry.

It felt as though that door had just slammed shut once more. The past hadn’t ended—it had only dragged me back here. The ache in my chest was fresh, untouched. I stood alone at the heart of the darkness, the whispers still lingering. And now, I wasn’t only afraid—I was alone with both my past and the stranger in this house.
. 
.
.
Through blurred vision, I scanned the house. A silhouette darted past. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands grazing the walls as I moved toward the front door. My fingers struck furniture; with every collision, my heart threatened to tear itself free.

Please… please don’t appear in front of me…

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. I didn’t dare look at the screen. Then Metallica exploded into the room. The heavy riffs tore through the silence, driven straight into my skull. With the first note, the walls trembled; the chandelier swayed, humming thinly. The distorted guitar twisted the room with every beat. The air thickened.

This wasn’t the song I knew. It wasn’t Metallica—it was a rusted machine awakening, sparks leaping from exposed wires, screaming from within my bones. Each note felt ritualistic, violent. My heart couldn’t match the rhythm; every beat pulled and pushed from inside my chest.

It was another blow to my already shattered body. I stumbled. My lungs refused to fill. My throat went dry as suffocation crept in.

A ghostly touch brushed my shoulder. Without looking back, I lunged for the doorknob. The cold metal froze my fingers. A deep roar rose behind me. This time the whisper was close—forcing the last syllables of my name through clenched teeth.

“Sah-raaa…”

I turned the lock. An ice-cold breeze swept past me. A scream tore from my throat as I threw myself outside. The air in the garden struck my face harshly—but it was different. Cold, yes, but not suffocating. It didn’t burn my lungs. Instead, it tore away the weight crushing me. My chest ached—not from pain, but from the sharp reminder that I was alive. Still, the tension clung to me.
. 
.
.
I staggered toward the gate without looking back. Each step shook me; my breath came in ragged gasps. Just before reaching the gate, I stopped. The world spun.

My legs gave out. Fear and resentment coiled together as tears spilled freely.

"Am I losing my mind? Or is this really happening?" I thought, each step heavier than the last.

Then I felt it—a small, warm touch against my leg. I flinched and looked down. A small cat gazed up at me, circling my legs as if it understood everything. In that instant, the roaring darkness fell silent. Something inside me loosened. 

Reality returned.

I bent down and gathered it into my arms. My shaking hands vanished into its soft fur. Each purr slowed my heartbeat.

When I finally stopped crying, the garden gate creaked open. My sister’s footsteps followed. The tension inside me eased, just a little. Her presence felt like a window opening in a suffocating room.

I wasn’t alone anymore. And that silenced the deepest fear of the darkness.
. 
.
.
That night, I didn’t dare sleep alone. I curled beside my sister, her presence a shield against every nightmare. I slept.

When morning came, I doubled my sedatives. Even under the pills, my mind flickered with shadows. Could I ever feel safe again? I didn’t know.

 My mind dulled, thoughts dispersing like mist. Later, numb and hollow, I slept again.

While awake, I hid inside movies, books, and the cats in the garden—anything to avoid remembering.

The days that followed passed quietly. University ended. The holiday began. With the first tickets we could find, we went home. I wouldn’t trade that peace for anything. Yet every night, as I lay in bed, the same question lingered:

What if the nightmare returns?

The silence was deep enough that my breath echoed within me. Safety wrapped around me—along with a faint shiver. Even with my eyes closed, darkness drifted gently, like a feather from old memories.

And as that question lingered in the shadows, my mind began to slide toward another image…
.
.
.

Chapter Text

---

I was lying motionless on the hard floor, my eyes moving slowly in the near pitch-black room. My back pressed against the cold, unyielding ground, hands clenched tightly over my chest, staring at the ceiling without being able to see a thing. The darkness was so deep that it didn't just erase shapes; it felt like it was erasing time itself. My eyes insisted on not adjusting to the void, and I was lost within the gloom.

The silence was so dense that even my breath felt distant, as if it didn't belong to me. There was an indescribable weight inside me. It felt as if everything I had experienced had piled up, resting heavily on my chest. I was severed from the entire world.

I couldn't silence my thoughts; it was as if someone was forcibly writing something into my brain, and I was trying to read it without moving. Before one thought could end, another began—my mind was tossed relentlessly from one place to another: How did I get here? Which thought had imprisoned me in this darkness? Why, at the exact moment I said "it's all over," was something inside me still waiting on alert? Where did this sense of guilt come from, and why was I condemned to pay a price as if I were the sole culprit?

After a while, my eyes caught a detail within the dark. From a corner of the window, through a tiny gap, a dim light seeped in; straight, pale, almost colorless.

The questions swirling in my mind—what I did, what I couldn't do, knowing where I went wrong but being unable to change it... they all orbited silently around that thin light. I hadn't realized it then, but I wasn't looking at the ceiling; I was looking into myself.

I stood up, and with steps that felt as if they didn't belong to me, I moved slowly toward the living room. Gravity suddenly reminded me of its presence; my body resisted at first, then gave up. My knees buckled, and I collapsed where I stood, lying there just as I was. I let out a deep sigh: When did I become this exhausted?

Suddenly, the balcony door drifted open. A light breeze began to sway the curtain; the whisper of the fabric merged into me without breaking the silence. A silhouette emerged from the shadows. It was strange, but in a weird way, it was also endearing.

At first glance, I thought it was a small cat, but as my eyes adjusted, I saw its face changing; sometimes the sharp, alert gaze of a bird, sometimes the soft, calm expression of a cat... Wings sprouting from its back flickered faintly in the dim light. It looked like no animal I knew, yet it didn't feel like a stranger.

I wasn't afraid. On the contrary, an involuntary smile touched the corners of my lips. I remained still, staring at it. It looked back at me for a long time. Its movements were incredibly cute. The silence between us wasn't tension; it turned into a peace that calmed my soul.

The creature approached slowly, touched its nose to my face, then immediately pulled back. Then it tried again. With this small contact, the frozen sorrow in my eyes slowly softened. I felt a warmth behind my eyes; a burden I had been tired of carrying for so long shifted slightly.

To avoid startling it, I stood up carefully and went to the kitchen; it followed me silently. I took two bowls from the cupboard; I put food in one and water in the other. The sweet thing, never taking its eyes off me as if it trusted me, approached slowly and accepted.

Just as I was about to turn back, our cat Gigi entered. Gigi, normally skittish, boldly approached this strange guest. She stroked its back and neck with her paws as if massaging it. These two creatures from different worlds had formed a friendly bond that brought tears to my eyes.

A faint sound of music rose from behind the closed curtains... The creature slowly spread its wings. I thought it would fly away, but instead, it began to move in rhythm with the melody; as if performing a tiny dance of gratitude.

Then it flapped its wings once more—was it preparing to leave, or to stay? Before I could understand, the scene dissolved.

—-

When I opened my eyes, I realized I had woken from a dream. There was a strange smile on my face, a thin moisture in my eyes... The peace within me was so real that I didn't realize I was crying from joy.

Perhaps this dream was a silent answer to the compassion I had been searching for. The warmth of the house was spread over the stress and hardships like a fine veil.

.

.

.

As the air cooled in the late afternoon, I went out to the garden with the lightness of the good news I had received throughout the day. I settled into the swing; a warm tea in my hand, a soft melody in my ears.

Swaying slowly, I looked at the redness of the sky, then tucked my feet in and lay back on the swing. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift into the tranquility of the moment. Right then, something light touched my lips.

Startled, I sat up quickly and wiped my face with my hand. In my palm lay a bird feather, mostly white with earth-toned patterns at the tips; for some reason, it reminded me of an owl or a hawk feather.

I turned the feather between my fingertips. Looking closely, I noticed a four-pointed star pattern on it: "Where do I remember this detail from?"

As I continued to examine the pattern on the feather, the image began to form in my mind—but just as it did—

"Aaaaaghhh!!!"

A sudden, sharp, and intense wave of pain erupted in my right arm, surging through my entire body. It felt as if my skin was being sliced by a razor, as if my nerve endings were being held over a flame; I felt throbbing electricity in my fingertips and a deep tension in my joints. My breath caught.

The pain wasn't just physical; it was etching itself into my mind. My brain was caught in a confusion that swung between hot and cold. As my vision blurred, my heart beat irregularly and full of panic.

I grabbed my arm and pressed down hard, but this burning sensation only intensified with every bit of pressure, and tears welled in my eyes. It felt as if my flesh was being separated from my bones.

"I... I can't bear this!" I thought. As the pain increased in intensity, every muscle in my body tightened further, and the air leaving my lungs insisted on not returning. No matter how many times I tried to scream and ease the pressure, my cries were knotted in my throat; my lips trembled.

With a freezing wind hitting my face, I barely managed to open my eyes and look around. The air had grown heavy. As the sky sank into a dirty darkness bordering on purple, the wind changed direction; the trees moaned as if they were breaking from within. It was as if even the world felt my pain. A panic rose inside me, my mind fragmented—I remembered the times I couldn't distinguish reality from dream.

"Stop... Stop it already!"

The pain wasn't localized; it spread from my shoulder to my chest, and from there to my waist and legs, pinning me to where I stood. Time crawled slowly, as if mocking me, allowing this sensation to deepen even further within me.

Beads of sweat began to pour down my face. My body was pushing its limits. With every breath, my muscles tightened, and with every tension, something else inside me snapped.

Just before the lightning struck, there was only darkness around me. But this wasn't ordinary darkness; it was filled with frozen, heavy, motionless silhouettes. It was as if they had been caught mid-walk, mid-speech, or mid-turn. At the edges of the garden, beyond the fences… they were waiting in the darkness.

The wind scattered the earth, leaves collided, insects were swept through the air, but the human forms remained outside of all this motion. None of them came toward me. None turned to my voice.

When the first lightning struck, everything was illuminated for a brief second. I saw their faces. Their bodies were motionless. But in that split second… their heads turned toward me all at once, in a sharp and dissonant movement. Our eyes met.

The light died out. Darkness fell again. My heart beat like crazy. "I saw a hallucination," I thought. "A trick of the eye." I held my breath.

The second lightning… The same thing. Silhouettes, darkness, the waiting… And with the light, that sudden, mechanical turn. The gazes were clearer this time. Closer. I couldn't escape. I realized now that this was no coincidence.

The sky tore open once more, but the light did not retreat; it forced the darkness into the open. And in that moment… I saw their faces more clearly. All of them were staring at me without blinking. Their expressions were harsh; in those frozen bodies, the only things moving were their eyes. Those eyes... not just one of them, but all of them... they were full of waiting. As if they wanted something from me.

"This wasn't just a look; it was a call..." My breath hitched. My chest tightened. I couldn't understand what they expected from me, but I wasn't in a state to understand anyway.

My veins were burning, something was pulling and stretching beneath my skin—it felt as if my flesh were being sealed from the inside. I could get help from no one. No one came. Time stretched; but this stretching was not measurable. There was pain, there was breath, and then there was the never-ending moment.

Nature was tensing with me, cracking with me, approaching the limit of endurance with me. It was as if my body and my surroundings would snap at the same point. Then… Everything ended at once. The suffocating darkness in the air retreated, a leaf from a nearby tree fell softly to the ground, and a light wind rippled.

Everything returned to its quiet and calm state, as if that chaotic moment had never happened. People were moving again. No one was looking at me. It was as if no one had seen anything.

As my body stopped cramping, my vision began to darken with a mental release. Before my consciousness closed completely, a breath was heard from afar, thin and trembling:

"Sahra..."

.

.

.

Chapter Text

When I drifted back to consciousness, everything was excessively quiet—but this silence was far from a familiar tranquility. It felt as if sounds hadn't disappeared, but had merely held their breath, waiting for something unseen to finish first.

My eyes were throbbing, and there was an invisible weight pressing outward from inside my skull, as though my thoughts themselves were trying to escape.

This didn't feel like an awakening. It was more like opening my eyes in the middle of something left unfinished—something that had been interrupted rather than concluded.

For a few seconds, I tried to understand where I was; that sharp pain striking the back walls of my mind seemed sworn to never let itself be forgotten. There was something I needed to remember… and yet something I was certain I didn't want to remember.

A slight but stubborn ache wandered through my arm, a whispering reminder that what had happened was too solid, too real to belong to a dream. My entire right side—from shoulder to ankle—felt foreign—as if half of my body had been left behind in another moment, another version of time.

With every breath, a faint tremor rippled through my chest, accompanied by a low humming inside my ears. My body didn't belong to me. It didn't take orders from me, and I wasn't carrying it—I was merely existing within it.

Perhaps the problem wasn't my body. Perhaps I was the one who hadn’t fully returned..

I had to move. I forced myself to.

When I pulled back my sleeve, the coldness inside me spread from a more familiar place this time. The skin above my elbow was flushed, almost burned—but what caught my attention wasn't the pain itself.

It was the four small moles appearing at its center.

They weren't scattered. They weren’t random. They were drawn toward each other, standing like a four-pointed star joined at the corners. Too precise, too intentional, too deliberate to be coincidence.

What truly terrified me was that this wasn't the first time I had seen them.

My hand moved there instinctively. As my fingers brushed against the marks, the pattern from the feather carved itself into my mind—the same shape, the same alignment, the same quiet order…

I looked around; the feather was gone, yet its absence felt louder than its presence ever had. It was as if it hadn't vanished, but had simply shifted somewhere beyond my reach. Or worse—perhaps it had never been in my hand at all...

A shiver ran through me.

What if there’s a link between that feather and the marks on my arm? What if it didn’t disappear… but merged with me during the chaos?

Maybe I wasn't chosen… maybe I was the one who was already "suitable."

After suppressing the terror of the questions racing through my mind, I stood up. The questions had fallen silent, but silence didn't mean answers—it only meant delay.

I entered the house. It had to be late, yet everything inside moved with its usual rhythm. My mother was washing dishes in the kitchen, the clattering of porcelain mixing with the low hum of the television. Everyone else was silently watching a movie in the living room—their faces calm and undisturbed.

Didn't they hear me? I screamed so loud… But it’s as if nothing happened.

I had screamed outside, my voice had come out—I was certain of it. But now, even as I stepped inside, no one looked up. It was as if I were a fleeting shadow slipping in from the edge of time itself.

I am here, aren’t I? Or am I just an unnoticed shadow?

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I couldn't believe my eyes. Not even ten minutes had passed since I’d gone outside.

Did time freeze… or did I leave it behind?

The more I thought about it, the stranger everything felt. So much had happened—yet it was as if the world had truly stopped for a few minutes. The reality had paused, waiting patiently, while I had gone somewhere else entirely.

I didn't want to dwell on this thought for long. Because with every passing second, the weight of what had occurred pressed heavier against my chest. While the world around me was excessively normal, flawless even—but I couldn't seem to fit myself into this perfection...

Without showing a sign, I went silently to my room. My body was exhausted, but the real weight wasn't in my muscles—it was suspended among my thoughts, suspended and restless. Before I even had a chance to put my head on the pillow, a strange heaviness pressed down on my face.

For a moment, I felt something cold and decayed reaching out from inside the pillow; those moist, bony yet un-flesh-like hands touched my skin, covering my face and pressing me harder and harder into the pillow. There were so many of them.

This can't be a dream, I thought wildly. Dreams aren't this rushed, this desperate!

I tried to breathe, but my mouth and nose were completely sealed beneath those hands. A rotten, heavy scent made my stomach churn. While silently gagging, I was trying to break free.

Please, my mind screamed, someone, see me now!

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. My jaw moved—I tried to scream—but no sound came out. As my head sank deeper into the pillow, a muffled roar exploded in my ears.

After my heart beat violently a few more times as if preparing to stop, the only thing I saw was darkness. And within that darkness, a sensation was carving a path through my mind. It was as if it were transferring its own existence into the dream.

—-

The sound of the wind echoed along with the dry grass dragging across the ground.

The sky had turned a yellow-orange color; the old blue was completely gone. The horizon shimmered with the desert’s hot breath. A strange unease spread within me—it was as if I were all alone, standing in a vastness of something like the Sahara.

I adjusted my cowboy hat and walked to my cabin. As the door creaked open, I saw a glowing metal nameplate on the desk inside.

“Sahra Aksoy.”

My own name was written on it. I looked at my left chest—a badge with the word "Sheriff" on it.

A faint smile appeared on my face.

“Me… and a sheriff, huh?” I said to myself with a low laugh. I couldn't hide my grin; I was certain I was in another one of those ridiculous dreams. I suppose I’ve grown used to it by now.

I turned on the radio. Disturbed’s "The Sound of Silence" began to play. The rhythm was so familiar that as I spun my revolver, I almost kept time with the song’s tempo.

Then a voice took the entire cabin captive; a muffled, deep roar, a moment of silence, followed by those horrific screams of wild animals clashing...

The footsteps grew heavy. The water in the glass on the table trembled with each step. My heart raced; I could still feel the touch of the hands.

I approached the window. In the clouds of dust, a horde of zombies appeared—distorted bodies, hollow eyes…

Then, as if they noticed me, they suddenly began to attack the cabin.

Stumbling back, I tripped even on the level floor. Reaching the table, I immediately tried to turn off the radio. But the music didn't stop. I tried again. Still nothing. The song kept playing on its own.

At that moment, the tingling in my arm surged, spreading through my veins. I looked at my arm in fear—the four moles were moving. They were practically squirming… as if they were trying to tell me something.

I felt the invisible thread between the hands and the zombies. With the pain, I slumped into my chair.

I was confused. No matter how much I tried to stop the music, it stubbornly continued to play. The door broke with a massive bang; as the zombies lunged at me, everything slowed down—my breath, my heartbeat, even my fear.

I really was in a dream. Scenes from a movie I had seen before flashed before my eyes; to exit the dream, consciousness had to create a way out.

Suddenly, a solution occurred to me. I lifted my foot from the chair and propped it against the desk, then pushed myself back hard. The fall might be the only way out of the dream.

The moment I pushed myself, the sound of the music became clearer and deeper; as the door broke with a slowness that spanned hours, the zombies rushed in, and I was falling with that same slowness. A smile spread across my face as I realized I had succeeded. Just before hitting the ground...

—-

I woke up sharply from the dream.

The song from the dream was still playing in my ears. So that was why I couldn't stop the music in the dream…

Trying to shake off the tension, I took off my headphones and tossed them aside. My breath was still irregular; my heart was beating fast in my chest.

I lay there for a while, closing my eyes and replaying the traces of the dream in my mind.

Every detail, every sensation… I knew now, they weren't just random fears; they were all connected to me. That chaos, the screams… they were all within an order, and I had solved that order.

I looked at my arm—the four moles were still there, flickering slightly. It was as if they were giving me a silent message: the dreams weren't directing me anymore; I was directing them.

There was a mixture inside me; an echo of fear, but also a sense of newly gained power.

I closed my eyes gently and took a deep breath. The rapid pounding in my heart began to slow down. Where I used to be tossed about helplessly, now my feet were planted firmly on the ground.

A smile spread across my face. This smile carried both a slight surprise and a deep-seated relief. Now, I was at the center of everything.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

When I woke up from that dream, what remained inside me wasn't a sense of victory. It was the unease of someone who had only just begun to understand the cost of control. My dreams were no longer attacking me — true. But that didn't mean they had surrendered. On the contrary, the more I reined them in, the deeper they pulled me with them.

The nightmares that once threatened to drown me were now taking shape in my hands, bowing to me even as I walked through fire. And for that very reason, a quiet doubt began to rot somewhere deep inside my chest.

"Did this mastery belong to me, or was it merely on loan?"

Nothing that grants power ever asks permission before it begins to take.

Because anything borrowed is eventually reclaimed. And interest is never paid gently. It is paid in pieces — slowly, precisely, and without mercy.

I did not yet know what I would lose when they came to take it back.

I could walk through the darkness and touch it; with a single thought, I could mute entire scenes, slow down time until it stretched thin and fragile. But every time I silenced them, something in reality seemed to snap loose — as if a thread had been pulled too far.. A fragment broke away, unnoticed at first. The more control I gained, the more I felt things slipping through my fingers. There was no clear boundary left between me and the world. I was no longer standing inside reality — I was leaking into it. As if it were only a line dissolving into fog.

Silence had become a trap; the quieter it was, the louder something waited to speak.

Voices echoed — yet I could no longer tell which came from the outside and which were born within me. Dreams no longer waited for nightfall. They found me in daylight, in movement, in breath as well. A sound, a vibration, the slightest shift in the air… each became a warning. Before anything arrived, its presence surged through my veins.

Reality was no longer something I stepped into. It had leaked inside me, mingling with my blood, settling beneath my skin. There was no door left between us.

.

.

.

I was going through a period where everything began to pile up at once. Dreams, hallucinations, people… each declared a war on me in its own language, its own color, its own cruelty. I didn't know who to trust or what to believe anymore — if trust was even something that still existed for me.

Every new person seemed to enter my life for a single purpose. To extinguish my existence just a little more. Each time, I tried to be good, patient, understanding, present. But being good was no longer enough. As my energy drained, the dreams resurrected themselves, dragging me back by the wrists.

With each passing day, I faded a little more. Hope slipped through me one piece at a time. As my mind sank deeper into darkness, what I heard became as sharp as what I saw.

It started with whispers — meaningless sounds crawling out of silent corners, clinging to empty spaces. At first, I ignored them. Then they followed me into the middle of crowds. Dozens of voices, overlapping commands, relentless orders... Each one hammering into my mind like a nail, shattering my thoughts.

I wanted to scream “Enough!” But the word never reached my lips. Because those voices moved faster than my thoughts, seizing them before I could decide what to feel. My mind was no longer a private place. There was no lock left on my thoughts. It had become a room where others stormed into, screaming.

My head spun — not like ordinary dizziness; it felt as if my brain were being torn out and forced back into place. I felt sick, yet it wasn't nausea; it was collapse. Everything inside me sinking downward. My heart would stutter, nearly stop, then pound violently as if trying to tear its way out of my chest and burst out the next.

Because of this, I went to doctors. Again and again.

White-lit rooms. Cold metal beds. Ceiling that never blinked back.

They took blood from my arms, attached cables to my chest, asked questions... As I answered them, I wasn't even sure if the voice belonged to me. After endless waiting, all the results led to the same conclusion: I was perfectly healthy... It was terrifying how easily something broken could pass every test.

In that moment, something broke inside me. Because my body might have been intact — but I... I was no longer there. I had survived, but I had not remained.

I had no words to describe what I felt; there was a place inside me that bled constantly, a place no one could see, no language could reach.

.

.

.

Year 2020.

In my second year of university, we moved to a new house with my family. Being with them made life a little more bearable. It was as if their presence suppressed the darkness within me for a while, but never erased it. Those emotional fluctuations remained — collapsing over me without warning, draining me like an invisible hand pulling light straight from my chest.

.

.

.

Every time I passed a mirror, something stirred beneath my ribs. It felt as if someone under my chest wanted to crawl out, breaking my bones to attack the reflection staring back. I had cursed my own reflection for so long that I no longer knew which side was truly "me" anymore.

"Was it the one inside the mirror, or the one standing outside it?"

Perhaps the real fracture wasn’t the reflection — but the need to ask the question at all.

There was no answer. Only hatred — staring back.

I stared until our gazes collided. It loathed me — I could feel it. But the truly terrifying part was realizing that I hated it too. Whatever lived inside me was no longer suffering — it wanted to tear me away from myself and disappear.

When I stepped onto the balcony for air, the same voice echoed in my mind:

-“Jump!”

+“What?!”

-“I said jump! Even if you don’t die, you’ll suffer. At least you’ll feel something.”

What terrified me wasn't the command itself — it was how convincing it sounded. It spoke with the confidence of something that had already rehearsed my ending.

I pulled back in terror every time. Soon, I couldn't even enter the kitchen anymore. Forks, knives, scissors... Everything had become a threat — a call.

-“Take it! Cut your hand! Come on, what are you waiting for?!”

My collapses... they weren't sudden. It wasn't an explosion. It was a massive structure being hollowed out from within, its columns cut one by one. From the outside, I still stood upright. Inside, everything had already begun to cave in. And when it finally fell, no one would remember when the damage had begun.

.

.

.

Days blurred together. In less than a month, my mind had unraveled completely. I was no longer afraid of being alone — I was trying not to be alone. Talking to people, clinging to their presence, reminded me that I was still alive.

February 22, 2020.

That morning, I stood before the mirror, preparing for university again. Tired, reluctant, with a half-dead body... At first, I thought I was looking at myself. Then I realized that what I saw was a face, but I wasn't sure if it belonged to me.

My features seemed erased, half-redrawn and abandoned midway. Gray smoke swirled around my eyes. Strangely, it didn't scare me. After a brief shiver, I realized why.

I had grown so used to it. It was as if I was looking at something I should have seen long ago but had only just noticed.

.

.

.

When I left the house, my body moved on autopilot. I don’t remember locking the door or reaching the street.

I put on my headphones, turned the music up as loud as it would go. I wanted to fill the inside of my ears with sound; hoping it would drown out the void inside me.

It didn't...

I couldn't look at people. Faces passed like dark stains, blurring together. Each one felt like a whirlpool, threatening to pull me under. With every step, I grew heavier; it was as if gravity increased — for me alone.

.

.

.

When I reached the classroom, the professor hadn't arrived yet. I sat in my seat. Dropped my bag. Stared at the wall in front of me. At first, there was nothing. Then… the texture of the wall seemed to distort.

My eyes couldn't focus. A face emerged — not clear, but the sensation was sharp and deeply disturbing. It was dark, hollow, and also full of hatred. It wasn't just looking at me. It was imposing its very existence.

I blinked, and it vanished. But the gaze stuck somewhere in my mind. Whenever my mind drifted, I would find myself back in that stare.

Time fractured. I don't remember the lecture.

As everyone left, my friends suggested going out for a drink. But their voices felt distant, unreachable. I was exhausted, and it wasn't physical; my mind felt like it was carrying tons of weight. I declined and walked toward home alone.

Everything was a blur. Including me...

.

.

.

I got into the elevator. I don’t remember when it arrived or which floor I pressed. The doors closed.

“Come on, already,” the voice urged. “Put an end to this! You want this too. Don’t resist!”

That voice was so familiar, I no longer knew if it belonged to me. Perhaps it was always there for me — it just found the courage to speak when I remained silent.

"Was this living, or just not dying?"

I realized I wasn’t afraid of death — I was exhausted by the effort of postponing it.

I no longer knew what I was holding on to.

Because living was no longer a desire; it was like a postponed burden. And not dying... was simply lacking the courage.

In that moment, it was as if everything had frozen. I was in an entirely different dimension, in a void.

When the elevator stopped, I was jolted violently. The doors opened.

17th floor...

I stumbled out, my breathing quickened.

+“What am I doing here? How... how did I get here?”

Panic clawed through me as I headed for the stairs. My heart didn't race — it staggered. My legs shook as if they didn't belong to me. As I descended, the world narrowed — the walls seemed to close in on me.

By the fifth floor, I collapsed against the wall, shaking, breath shallow and forgotten.

+“This... only concerns me," I whispered. "My family must not know. I can handle this. I have to.”

.

.

.

That evening, I stood in the bathroom. The connection between me and the world had snapped; sounds felt distant. Even cold water sang strangely against my skin.

I stared into the mirror — bloodshot eyes, no anger left, only hatred. A quiet, corrosive kind — seeped into me, gnawing at me from the inside.

I was trembling with rage. I clenched my teeth and screamed silently at my reflection. The words stayed trapped inside me for a long time, tearing at my throat.

Then I splashed water on my face again. It was still ice cold. Tears mixed with water until I couldn't tell them apart. I stayed like that for a while. I don’t know how long. Then I left the bathroom.

I lay on my bed afterward. I didn't cover myself. Before closing my eyes, I made a wish.

If I wake up tomorrow — let me truly wake up.

Because some awakenings no longer meant leaving the dream. Only sinking deeper into it.

.

.

.

The next morning when I woke up, my body was heavy. My soul… felt absent. I had grown used to this that I wasn't even aware of it anymore.

Days stacked endlessly, the same morning repeating itself. Getting out of bed wasn’t choice — it was reflex.

I walked to the bathroom. The light hurt my eyes, but I didn't react. The coldness of the tile, the sound of the faucet, standing before the mirror… I was watching it all as if from the outside.

I stood before the mirror again. It took a few seconds to lift my head. And in that moment… what I saw was not what I expected.

Whatever was looking back at me had already been awake for a long time.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

For a brief second, I thought the face in the mirror smiled at me. But I hadn’t smiled. My lips hadn't moved; my facial muscles hadn't broken out of that familiar numbness.

There were no answers left anyway, only echoes—meaningless, persistent echoes swirling inside my mind, refusing to go silent.

Still, I couldn’t help myself. I took out my phone and recorded my reflection in the cold light of the screen. Then, I turned the camera toward myself; as if by catching my image, I could catch the truth as well. When I pressed play, what I expected didn't happen. Because I really was smiling.

At that moment, I felt a strange, heavy ache in my stomach—a sensation caught between surprise and fear, and I couldn't tell which it belonged to. "How is this possible?" Only last night I hated myself, unable to even glance at the mirror... and now, this smile looking back at me... it was mine. And that was the strangest part; it didn't look fake. It wasn't forced, nor was it the look of someone trying to convince themselves. It just was.

I moved closer to the mirror. My eyes were still swollen, my face pale, my lips chapped, and my nose raw from crying. My hair was a mess, carrying the traces of the night, of insomnia, and of my thoughts. But amidst all this exhaustion, this depletion, there was something; small, perhaps vague... but a vivid, unextinguished spark.

Driven by a sudden impulse, I wanted to touch my reflection. As my fingertips met the cold glass, a sentence formed silently inside me; it felt as if it didn't belong to me, yet it was so familiar that no one else could have uttered it: "How strange... Even like this, I am beautiful."

I hadn't said such a sentence to myself in years. The soft compassion I felt when looking at others, sharing in their heartbreaks—for the first time, I had turned it toward myself. This realization was startling because I wasn't used to it. But it was also healing; slowly, without rushing.

I washed my face with cold water. As the water ran down my cheeks, I felt something loosen inside me, knots beginning to untie. I picked up the comb and fixed my hair, then looked at the mirror again. She looked back at me—and for some reason, the border between my eyes and those in the mirror felt thinner, more permeable. I no longer knew who was watching whom, or who was breathing in whose place.

.

.

.

I got ready and left the house. I didn't put on my headphones. Silence was beautiful today. The sounds of the street, the chirping of birds, the familiar hum of passing cars—which I had once forgotten—everything whispered to me that life was still flowing. Perhaps for the first time in a long while, I heard something louder than the roar in my mind: the real world itself — no longer outside of me.

I waited for the voices as I walked down the stairs, but they didn't come. I looked long and hard at the faces of people at the bus stop; I watched their haste, their fatigue, their small happinesses. Everything was so clear today, so peaceful. I couldn't believe it; it was as if all the pain accumulated over the years had untied into a single knot, leaving behind a soft, unfamiliar void.

"Maybe I'm finally healing," I thought. But immediately after, that familiar, cautious voice whispered: What if this peace is just another dream?

Life really was beautiful that day. I, who had forgotten how to laugh, began to smile for no reason. My pains hadn't vanished; they had simply grown quiet. I realized that what is often mistaken for "happiness" is sometimes just a well-played role—but this time, I didn't care. Because even within that role, I was myself. And that was the most real feeling I had possessed in a long time.

.

.

.

One night, while in a deep sleep again...

---

The light was neither night nor day; it had taken on a color between gray and blue that strained the eyes. I didn't know where I was, but strangely, the place didn't feel foreign. It was as if I had been here dozens of times before and then forgotten.

The ground beneath my feet was solid, but it didn't offer security. I felt as if the floor would be pulled from under me if I took one more step. I looked around; no houses, no roads, no living souls. There was only a salty scent carried by the wind. The smell of the sea... but the sea was nowhere to be seen.

As I searched, I noticed a structure rising before me. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary house; but as I drew closer, its shape shifted—walls elongated, windows narrowed, and its shadow fell longer than it should have. This wasn't a house; it was... like a fortress perched in the middle of cliffs, smelling of danger in every corner.

Stepping inside, I realized the only exit was a door on the corner of the top floor, opening into the ocean; I understood it could only be exited by jumping into the abyss. But this step required immense courage; for someone who didn't know they were in a dream, jumping could be fatal. Except for me, of course...

As I wandered inside, I realized returning through the entrance was impossible; the fortress had imprisoned me.

I moved through the levels; moss-covered walls, intentionally reinforced stairs... It was as if someone had worked hard to ensure no one ever left. With every step, the darkness grew denser, the silence deeper.

On the top floor, I saw her: a girl with bound hands and feet, weary, nearly depleted. She sat silently, waiting to be saved. But reaching her was not easy. With every attempt, figures emerged from the darkness to surround me, instilling fear with their gazes.

Strangely, they didn't block me physically; they just watched. With a steady, demeaning, and terrifying stare... as if they knew I would fail.

I tried repeatedly; different paths, different floors... but the result remained the same. Everything in the fortress was like a trap; the exit wasn't a possibility, but a test of courage.

Finally, a cellar-like door opened before me. Inside was a space divided into three; a lounge area and two rooms. In one of the open rooms stood a lioness and her cub. Their doors were open, but they didn't think of escaping. There was sorrow in their eyes. It was as if they had forgotten how to flee years ago.

The other room was closed, protected by a heavy iron door with a massive lock. I couldn't see inside, but I could feel something there waiting to be rescued.

The moment I tried to open the door, a man suddenly appeared. We began to struggle. Strangely, I was powerful; as I choked him, an unknown energy rose within me. It was as if the strength of the mightiest beast had passed into my arms.

After the man was neutralized, a girl emerged from the darkness; energetic, restless... but also uncontrollable. She knew how to open the door, too, but she wouldn't do it; instead, she constantly obstructed me.

I pinned her to one side and turned the lock. Just as I was about to open the door, fear appeared in her eyes. She was looking for a place to hide.

In the adjacent room, there was an area with no door, separated only by a curtain. The girl rushed there and joined the lions. I stood behind the curtain, motionless. I knew that if whatever was coming out was an animal, it could find us by scent, but I wasn't afraid.

The door opened. An alpha lion stepped out. It was clear he had been locked away for years; he ran, he lunged, but there was fear on his face. He was ready to attack, but instead, he entered the curtained area and realized there was a savior there. After approaching and sniffing my hands for a long time, he joyfully ran to his family.

We had no time. The fortress was already beginning to rise up.

In front of the door, a massive, imposing man stood at attention. He began to attack us, but the Alpha King successfully neutralized him. I ran, quickly turned the lock, and we began to flee. I had to get them out safely.

Passing through stairs and corridors, I reached the edge of the cliff. There were guards at the door, trying to close it. The other lions threw themselves out quickly; the Alpha King stayed with me to continue fighting the guards. After neutralizing them, I pushed the Alpha King to follow his family. He didn't want to leave me, but I couldn't take that risk. At the last moment, I managed to get him out through the remaining gap in the door, and immediately after, the doors slammed shut with a deafening thud.

I couldn't see their fall or anything else. I ran and looked out the window. The sea was boiling; waves crashed against the rocks, making sounds like explosions. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't see the lion family. A great sadness filled me; I didn't know if they had survived. Then I noticed her beside me; the energetic girl was still there. She hadn't escaped, but she wasn't sad.

There was still time. Why didn't she run? I was lost in thought when suddenly, cooked fish began to fly in through the window. I looked at the sea; a whale was happily wagging its tail, filling the room with fish with every flap. The other girl immediately began to eat them with joy.

What is happening? What are these fish? Why is this happening?

Then I saw them below: the lion family. Near the whale, looking up at me with gratitude. I was truly happy that I could save them. But this joy didn't last long, because there were still two girls in the fortress I hadn't saved, and the exit had closed, never to open again. The section I was in began to collapse; as the ground continued to break, the way back was also disappearing.

The other girl was nowhere to be seen, as if she had vanished the moment everything started to crumble—as if she had never existed.

I jumped from place to place and reached the corridor. Everything I had left behind was gone. Just before losing hope entirely, I tried one last time to save the bound girl. After navigating the cursed labyrinths, I reached the room where she was. I could barely make out the surroundings in the dark room. As my hands brushed the wall, I hit something and the light flickered on. Once the room was illuminated, I saw not one, but two girls: the energetic one and the bound one.

They stood face to face, looking at each other.

“So you’re here too! I was wondering where you disappe—”

As she turned her face toward me, it felt as if boiling water had been poured over my head. These girls... both of them were me. I was there with three different versions of myself. I had saved everyone. Except myself...

Suddenly, a voice was heard from afar:

"Sahra..."

It was as if someone was calling out to me from within the vaults. I turned my head and looked into the dark void.

---

This voice, whatever or whoever it belonged to, grew steadily louder.

"Sahra... Sahra... SAHRA!"

After the last shout, I woke up sharply from the dream, but I didn't open my eyes. The voice from a moment ago felt as if it were still striking the walls of my skull. An immense unease wrapped around my body; my heart raced faster and faster. As warmth continued to spread through my body, I grew strangely anxious. I wasn't afraid of death, but this feeling was terrible—a feeling as if my heart would accelerate and finally stop.

The familiar, suffocating air around me began to manifest. It felt as if a powerful energy was radiating, as if there were others in the room. As I tried to control my breathing, a surreal force arrived rapidly and hung suspended right above me. My bed shook as if an earthquake had hit under the influence of this power.

I insisted on not opening my eyes. If there was something in front of me, I didn't want to see it and double my fear. While my heart continued to tear through my chest, the same voice repeated.

This voice... why did it sound so familiar? Was it someone from the house? Or... was it "her" again?

No matter how afraid I was, I opened my eyes. My blood ran cold. In front of me... was me. But a version of me that was more vivid, more radiant; another "me" around whom a smoke between blue and gray drifted slowly. Not a nightmare, not quite a hallucination; it was as if everything accumulated inside me had taken shape and found a body.

She raised her hand and touched my forehead. With that touch, my entire life collapsed into a single moment; every dream I had seen, every voice I had heard, the fears I fled, and those shadows... they all converged at the same center: me.

"This image... You..." I said, my voice trembling. "It was you, then?"

She looked at me. There was neither mercy nor anger on her face; only a accustomed fatigue. A sorrowful smile spread across her face.

"It was always me," she said. "I was your fears, and I was the voices. Every moment you thought you were being lifted up... and the moments that tore you apart. It was all me."

I wanted to say something, but the words disintegrated in my throat. A warmth spread inside me; a painful warmth from my waist to my feet.

"But why?" I hissed silently.

There was silence for a while. Then, her voice passed through me like a wind:

"For you to learn. To grow, to realize, to break your shell. Some people look for pain on the outside, but yours was within. I only turned you back to yourself."

At that moment, a weight dissolved in my chest. I cried, but it wasn't exhaustion, or fear, or anger... there was only a deep surrender.

Then that smoke, that glowing mass of light, slowly dissipated and merged into me. A warmth spread once more. It was as if finally, all voices, all dreams, all darkness had gone silent in a single breath. And for the first time, I heard a truly real silence.

In that silence, only one sentence echoed in the room—it was no longer a voice, but a realization:

"You are the essence. Reality consists of you. And you have finally returned to yourself. You have succeeded."

I wasn't afraid anymore. I had never felt this way before. I took a deep breath. Truths are heavy, I knew that, but for the first time, I wasn't being crushed under them.

"Finally... everything has passed. Look, I’m standing."

I immediately wiped my tears with my hand and replaced them with a smile.

"I’m not crying anymore. I’m not screaming."

***

Sahra hadn't noticed the woman standing at the edge of the bed from the beginning—her mother.

She was looking at her daughter sitting up in bed; her mother had the cautious habit of someone who had witnessed this scene before—watching her daughter look into the void with tearful eyes, talking to herself. Her eyes were full, but her face was calm. Within her calmness was a silent anxiety, a hidden sorrow...

"No, I know!", "I don't need you anymore!"

The mother saw her daughter’s gaze fixate on a point in the room; she tilted her head slightly as if she were seeing someone there. The woman looked first at her daughter, then at the void. There was no one else in the room but the two of them. She approached and stood by the edge of the bed. She reached out, but hesitated for a moment before touching her daughter—as if she knew that if she made contact, something would irretrievably scatter.

"I'm fine," the girl said, her voice coming from a soft but uncertain place.

The woman didn't say anything at first. There was a grief on her face, suppressed by habit. She stayed like that for a while, then said in a calm voice, "Your hand is cold. Let’s cover you up."

She pulled the blanket over her daughter’s shoulders and stroked her head. Her hand lingered for a moment, then she stood up and headed for the door. She didn't turn off the light. As she left the room, she looked at her daughter one last time. At that moment, Sahra whispered the last sentence passing through her mind:

"Reality has collapsed..."

That sentence hung in the air of the room. Before the door closed, the medicine boxes arranged in regular intervals on the nightstand stood there, saying nothing at all.

***

"The distorted echoes of the mind are nothing more than stories a maddened heart tells itself; your smiles, the battles you thought you won, your sighs of 'I am strong now'...

Real power exists in the shadow of a fallen and broken body, still trembling on the ground. Whether you realize it or not, your entire world is still shattering inside you."

THE END

Chapter Text

Epilogue

"There are still cracks within me.

Sometimes I can't tell what leaks through them—pain, memory, or just habit… But I no longer need to name every seep.

Silence used to frighten me.

Because in it, I was alone with myself. Now I understand; it wasn’t the silence that broke me—it was trying to run from it."

Afterword

When you close this story, it’s not just a room behind a door that remains, but traces of a mind, a memory, a body—still felt on your skin, in your breath. "When Reality Collapses" tried to follow these traces—sometimes bewildered, sometimes afraid, often stubbornly. Sahra’s story needed to leave a call echoing beyond its ending: keep looking into yourself.

Why this ending? Because completion isn’t found in grand explosions; it comes in small acceptances, quiet learnings, and tentative steps inward. That last breath of Sahra’s—perhaps a farewell, perhaps a new beginning—I wanted it to leave a space in your lungs. The emptiness left after reading should guide you toward new thoughts, new chapters, and perhaps your own story.

A few small requests for the reader:

•After finishing the story, take a page to write down your strongest moment with Sahra. Note why it affected you, the tremor it left inside.

•If you wish, share your thoughts or critiques about the story—every feedback illuminates the next one.

•And if this text touched you in some way, share it with a friend; sometimes a single page can shatter the darkness inside someone through just one window.

Finally: If the story confused you, unsettled you, or gave more than you expected—thank you. A text only finds its measure when read; it exists because it met you.

Soon, I’ll return with a new project—quietly for now, but still with breath and hope.

Author’s Note

While writing this book, I dove into the quietest corners of my mind—listening to the fears hidden there, the small hopes, and sometimes voices I had never heard. One question always lingered: How can a person feel complete without facing the pieces inside? Sahra’s journey is an answer to that question. I never judged her; I listened. Because I know everyone has a Sahra within them—sometimes lost, sometimes resisting, sometimes finding themselves again. "When Reality Collapses" is therefore not just a story; it is a record of facing oneself, of loss, and of rebuilding.

While writing, I focused especially on the silence and physical awareness at the finale. Sometimes the strongest change doesn’t occur loudly, but in small vibrations echoing in the heart and body. Sahra’s surrender and inward turn at the last moment is an invitation for the reader to look into their own shadow; to open a window within themselves, toward their thoughts and story.

This text completes itself when read, but in reality, the moment it begins, it sparks a new journey inside the reader. I am aware that the tremors, pauses, breaths you feel may be challenging. After all, this story carries traces of reality; it’s not only Sahra’s experience, but yours as well. If your emotions are real, it’s your responsibility to honor them.

Finally, know this: if the story unsettled you, made you think, or exceeded your expectations—it’s a valid interaction. A text truly exists only when it resonates within the reader.

To everyone who supported me while writing—through ideas, patience, or critiques—thank you. I hope this journey opens a quiet yet profound window within you too.

— Seralyn