Laila was terrified of the dark.

Everyone was, at a certain point.

She was terrified of the monsters that lurked in the dark. She was terrified that these monsters would grab her, drag her face through the mud and dissect her into pieces. She was terrified they'd feed her carcass to the dogs. She was terrified she'd be erased from the surface of the earth and people's memories.

Laila flinched at the sound by her left. Or was it her right? She didn't know.

It was completely dark. And it smelt like horse shit.

It was horse shit.

She was in one of the dark rooms in her dad's chateau. One he had people thrown in to chastise them. One he had her thrown in after she had refused to utter a single word for twelve hours since she came home.

A sound whipped past her ear and she let out a cry, cowering back. A similar sound whipped past her other ear and she froze.

Breath held, eyes wide and body tense, Laila narrowed her view to the direction of the sound.

She remained arrested, counting from 1 to 30 before she whipped her hand towards the sound that came. Her hand whipped 240 degrees and hit the clay wall she didn't realize was there. That was it. Wincing loudly, she brought her fingers into her mouth to try and suck off the pain.

Sand. That was what she sucked off instead of the pain.

Chop chop, she retrieved her hand from the warmness of her mouth and continuously spit out the sand. She went on until she was puking her intestines out.

Her palms went flat on the cemented but still sandy floor as she felt as if her insides were being ejected through her mouth.

She sighed and sucked in a breath when it stopped, landing back on her bottom.

Laila's palm flew to the left side of her chest. She squeezed the spot as if to squeeze her poor organ out of its misery.

She looked up. Anything. Any light. Any sign.

There wasn't any.

The extractor fan she was sure she noticed a few hours during P.M was magically absent. Or was it a window, though? Was she hallucinating?

No. She wasn't imagining things. She rubbed her eyes only to open them to pure darkness. She rubbed them optics once again and the same outcome came.

No. No. No. Please, have mercy on me.

She tried once again.

No. No. I didn't go blind. I can't go blind. Please...

Blended voices came to her heed. "Lailaaa..." her muscles tightened when she froze.

They'll not get to her. She won't let them. They weren't real.

Except they were. The voice came again, only this time, a little bit clearer. "Laila! Laila!" Her eyes flew open. It was useless as she wasn't seeing which was why all her other senses intensified.

She heard inaudible bangs before her name came again, only this time, it wasn't in mock. "Laila. It's me. Shehu..." her wobbly legs shot up at that.

She placed her ear to the patchy wall with her palms on the opposite sides of her head. "Shehu? Shehu? Is that you? Please, tell me...tell me...that's you." She shook her head, lips starting to tremble.

She pressed her ear harder and curled her fingers at the thought that it was just her mind playing more games with her.

Turns out, it wasn't. "It's me...Laila, don't let this get to you. It's what Ba-Daddy wants. He is twisted. He-he wants to break you. He wants you to come crawling to him ready to listen to whatever he says."

Dry chapped lips trembling, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath overcame her body. "Shehu..." she felt fingers pressing hard around her throat, cutting off her air supply and words.

She couldn't breathe nor could she talk.

In an attempt to not let her shaky legs warrant giving up on her, she solicited to grab the bumpy wall. Her attempt went in vain when her left palm decided to lose its grip on the wall. Consequently, her right palm did the same and her face went scrapping against the rugged wall. She let out a scream at the ferocious collision.

She caught a bang on the other side of the wall she was resting her face on but didn't pay it any mind. Her finger guided the liquid seeping out of her temple.

"Laila. Are you listening to me? Are you okay?"

Laila wanted to scream so hard. So hard that the world would hear her. She couldn't. Instead, she went with what she could have. "I am not!" Her throat felt scrappy at the choice of her tone.

Her long nails scratched her nape aggressively to produce some sort of friction. Some sort of pain apart from her heart feeling like it was being rampaged on by sick, famished wolves.

"Baleri, i need you to listen to me. I've been here, this room gets into your head. Don't give in. You're going to be alright." His words came in blended. She carefully reclassified them before sniffing.

He was lying. Just like everyone else, he was lying.

She wasn't strong. Neither was she going to be alright.

But, she'd embrace the foundation-less hope he gave her. It was what no one had. And she? She was lucky enough to get it. Even if it was 'foundation-less.'

"Halima!"

Laila flinched, lifting her arm over her head as if to shield the owner of the voice from bashing her. "Ye-yes! Yes. Yes. I-i-i'm sorry."

"Stay strong. Please..."

She nodded at the wall. "Yes. Yes. I ca-i will."

She wasn't sure, but it felt like he sighed. "I'll come to visit you."

Laila didn't miss the part where he didn't mention anything about helping or getting her out.

She didn't blame him.

Bending their old man's orders or rules was close to impossible. He was of distinction, and he was treated as such.

Tomorrow came. Or next tomorrow. Or the day after next tomorrow. She wasn't sure as her mind had decided to blend her horrors into a nonending loop. And still, no one said or did anything to her apart from the food fit for a dog shoved into the room for her. The food she hardly ate.

The only source of light in the room was from the window at the top of the walls. At noon, she wasn't blind. But, as soon as the sun was up no more, her sanity departed her body.

A tap on her shoulder startled her. She turned, the window the same size as her face at the base of the high ceilings doing nothing in gleaming up the room.

Slightly dizzy from being malnourished, she hoisted on weak legs.

Another palm tapped her other shoulder. As fast as her dizzy, dehydrated, and malnourished body could reflexly attack, she swung her arm at the figure.

Voices in her head started to sing:

"You're never going to be okay..."

"You don't deserve to be okay..."

"Everything would be better if you weren't here anymore..."

They all blended into a blur as she stalled with her palm stretched out at the invisible monsters here to hurt her.

A hand caught her foot and she let out a scream as she tried to untangle her ankles from the tight grip. She wailed louder, fought harder, and just when she had given her all into the fight, the pressure on her ankle was released and she went tumbling back.

Laila fell with a thud and a crack, her head starting to hurt harder than it already was. She winced and quickly revived her finger from the new lesion on the left side of her head. She brought her hand back to her head, this time, slower and with more control. She lightly palmed the spot, feeling warm liquid ooze into her palm.

The metallic smell of blood hit her just in time for her to catch a movement. She slammed her eyes shut and upsurged the pressure on her head to focus on anything other than the goosebumps rising on her skin.

Shehu said it's not real. They're not real.

Except, it was real. Except she was having a hard time breathing. Her hand clutched her chest, taking more than a minute to stand on her feet.

"End it. It'll be best if you end it."

"Give in."

"You're not worth it."

"End it. End it. End it."

Men or women in cloaks surrounded her, chanting over and over again. Both her clammy hands clutched her ears as she locked her teeth and convulsed.

With the amount of melanin in her skin, you'd think she couldn't turn red until she did. She let out a loud squall as she fell to her knees, shaking her head.

"You're not real!"

The cloaked figure proved Laila wrong by tapping her shoulder. She stroked a reflex arm at the figure and they stalled. Her palm placed flat on the floor, she put all her willpower on her legs and rose from her pathetic position. She'd fight him. Or her. Or them.

She rose her fist and stroked the figure so hard, that she stumbled forward and her forehead hit the patchy wall. She raised her head and met the hooded face of the figure before grunting, yelling, and finally striking him square in the face.

She dodged the strike and instead, hit his groin with her knee.

The figure took hold of her head and brought it to meet his forehead squarely. She winced and fell back at the hit.

She took a sharp breath in and spit the liquid and sand in her mouth. She positioned her palms flat on the floor and solicited to rise. A force knocked her legs and she fell back harder than the last time.

Laila swung to the encircled group of cloaked figures closing in on her. She let out a scream, stomping on her feet. When she couldn't go further, she raised her arm over her face while weakly dragging back.

Liquid from the tip of her fist dripped continuously on her plain gown. She shook her head, wincing at the pain from every cell of hers. "You can't be real." They weren't real. They couldn't be. She must've been high on a hallucinogenic drug. They were not real! "I-i can-I can't breathe. Don't touch me." She hit the hand of one of the figures and the pain splashed on her. She didn't hit anyone but herself. "D-d-don..." her throat squeezed the words she was trying to make out. She brought her nails to her nape to scratch the skin desperately.

Laila swept her eyes around, finding nothing but darkness. She was fighting the air. The walls.

She was tired. She couldn't do this anymore. She had to speak.

She crawled on bruised knees and placed her hand on the wall in search of the door. She dragged herself and scratched the wall from the beginning to come to a lost cause. It wasn't there.

Her sandy, filthy hand wiped the sweat off her forehead. She felt the wetness on her palm and instantly knew it wasn't just from sweat, she was bleeding. Maybe slowly, but definitely. Chronically.

Laila took a deep breath after she felt her heart skip more than three beats in less than 30 seconds. If she continued like this, she'd get an attack.

This time, with breaks to level her breath, she crawled to her rear. She touched the wall and moved further until she felt a change in texture. She found it. She found the door.

Laila lifted her weak hands and pounded at the door. The sound was nothing compared to the echo that came from behind her. There were still there. Her demons were still there.

She croaked out. "Is any...one? I-is anyone...there?" She pounded at the door again and the laughter blended with the echo.

A hand tapped her shoulder and she whipped her head in its direction. She met the sight of shivery red eyes.

She let out a loud wail and pounded on the door harder. "Please, Help!"

She was sure the room was dark with no light to irradiate the place. So, why the hell was she looking at someone's eyes? Specifically, why were there no features except the eyes?

The more she pounded, the more the echoes, the laughter, the mockery, the terrifying eyes intensified.

She squirmed back, away from the eyes, the voices until her back hit a wall. She slammed her palms over her ears to block out the voices but that did nothing.

She wailed. She cried. All in an attempt to raise her voice higher than the other voices. Maybe, just maybe that'd help. Maybe that'll make them stop.

Except, they were as obstinate as she was.

She turned, pounding into the walls, no longer distinguishing between the walls and the door. The skin on her fist tore at the sustained pressure being applied to them.

Laila stopped, and so did the voices.

Faintly, she ran her fingers across the wall while standing on her wobbly legs to find the door. She inched forward, but a force held her ankle back. She flung her hand at the force, "No! Let me. L-let me g-go. I didn't mean to...i am so-sorry. Please...I didn't mean to ki-Ple..."

Fingers wrapped around her throat and her hands flew to try to untangle them. She couldn't breathe. God, she couldn't breathe. She clawed at the fingers, but her nape sucked the pain. Unyielding, she clawed harder and her nape hurt harder.

The force released both her legs and neck and she tumbled back. She squirmed back only to meet a wall. She tried the other side. Still, a wall.

The walls were closing in on her. Dammit, they were going to crash on her. She'd have no oxygen to breathe. She had no oxygen to breathe.

Her wet palms splayed against her neck as she dragged in as much air but it only seemed to be poisoned.

She gasped and attempted, again. No avail.

The voices started again. With limp hands clasping each other, she flimsily closed her teary eyes and curled into a corner.

"Lailaaa..."

"Die..."

"Starve..."

"Killer..."

"Give in..."

"Lailaaa..."

Laila jammed her hands over her ears, vigorously shaking her head. "It's a lie...wal-wallahi it's a lie. I am not a killer...i am not bad. Stop-stop it! I didn't do anything-i don't deserve this. I didn't-"

"You just had to act hyper-independent, don't you..." Laila's eyes flutter open at the only voice she had heard in a while that wasn't mocking her.

"Nura..." her eyes landed on his figure, leaning on the wall in complete white cotton.

He shook his head, walking toward her and squatting.

Still, in her position, she extended her limp arm to his face and her fingers went through it. She tried again and her arms fell back to her lap in defeat.

Nurain shrugged, "See? Blame your subconscious, not me. It's just trying to escape from your unendurable agony, and it chose this face." He gestured at his face.

She nodded at him, determined, and then slowly groaned. "I can endure...i-i can. I can...do this!"

He threw his head back, but no sound came. He brought it back and nodded, his face neutral. "Okay. It still doesn't erase the fact that your elephantine fear of being alone in this darkness is consuming you." He then ventured to stand on his feet and walk around, gesturing at the small space. "You're blaming yourself for everything. And, you do not want to break and give your dad satisfaction. So, you'd rather suffer and let your monsters get to you instead of fighting them. Because, at least then, it's easier to give into them." He halted and whipped to her. "You give in because you're pathetic. Admit it. It's okay." He spread his arms, his smile lifting from a small smile into a monstrous one.

He produced a dagger, glistening and dripping with bright red viscous liquid.

Blood.

The figure that was once Nurain, turned faceless with only the same veiny bloodshot eyes present on his disguise.

Dagger high in the air and ready to plunge at Laila, he stalked towards her and she let out a scream over the resuscitated sounds of laughter with her arms over her face.

She waited for the pain. For the blood. For the darkness to envelop her, to be free, to be fine.

Except, non came.

As a substitute, the light came. She didn't know from where, but she ventured to find out. Her arms dropped and she cranked her head to the route of the radiance.

Her old man stood at the door, stoic as a statue.

"Are you ready to talk?"

Plain of reprieve, she nodded. "Yes, Sir."

He smiled, a big ass fake one. "Good." Then he turned around.

"Admit it. You're going to give your dad the satisfaction like always..."

Laila twisted her head and eyes in search of Nurain, or whoever the hell that was. There was no one. Just the floor; filthy with her blood, sweat, and half-dried puke.

She felt arms attempting to pick her and she screamed, lunching back only to hit her head at the wall.

The intruder was startled at her outburst and sent his hands up in surrender. "It's just me, Laila." He slowly added, "It's me. Shehu."

Laila crooked her neck and winced.

She repeated after him, her voice cracking. "She-Shehu?"

He spread his arms and nodded, "Shehu." He said, bending to assist her up.

"Let's go deal with this..."