Miray's POV

The next morning, I trudged through the school gates, my backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. The chatter of students filled the air, but it felt distant, like I was hearing it through a wall. I had barely slept the night before—dreams I couldn’t quite remember had left me restless and on edge.

Evelyn greeted me near the lockers, a bright smile on her face. “Morning!” she chirped, her energy a stark contrast to my gloom.

“Hey,” I mumbled, managing a weak smile.

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

I shrugged. “Just tired.”

She seemed to accept that, though her eyes lingered on me a second longer. “Alright, let’s get through this day. We’ve got Math first, and you know how much fun that is,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

I forced a laugh, grateful for her attempt to lighten the mood.

Classes dragged on like they always did, and by lunchtime, I felt suffocated by the monotony of it all. The cafeteria was loud and chaotic, as usual. Evelyn tried to convince me to eat with her, but I wasn’t in the mood. “I’ll catch up later,” I told her, slipping away before she could protest.

I wandered through the halls, my steps aimless. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but anywhere quiet was better than the cafeteria. As I turned a corner, I saw him. At least, I thought I did. The build, the walk—it was Adrian. It had to be him. My chest constricted, and my legs froze before my brain could catch up.

No. No. No.

I didn’t stay to confirm it. I bolted, not caring if I looked like a fool. My feet carried me through the maze of hallways until I found the one place I knew no one would bother me—the small storage area at the edge of the school’s theater wing. It was dusty and unused, but it was mine. I closed the door behind me and sank to the floor, gasping for air.

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

But the panic didn’t stop. It clawed its way up my throat, making it hard to breathe. My hands shook as I fumbled with my bag, yanking the zipper open. The blade was small, hidden in a pocket so no one would find it. I hated myself for keeping it, but sometimes, the pain felt like the only way to drown out the noise in my head.

I barely felt the sting as the blade kissed my skin, just enough to quiet the storm for a moment. But then—

“Hey.”

I jerk my head up, expecting to see Adrian’s cruel face sneering at me. But it’s not him. This guy is different—his skin a deep, smooth brown that glows softly in the filtered sunlight. His dark eyes are wide with concern, his brows furrowed in a way that makes my chest tighten for reasons I can’t explain. He’s tall, towering over me, and his muscular build makes him seem even larger. But there’s no threat in his posture—just calm, steady strength.

I try to yank my hand away, but his grip is firm yet gentle. “You don’t need to do this,” he says softly, crouching down so we’re at eye level.

My breath hitches, panic still buzzing under my skin. I can barely process his words, barely register his presence beyond the overwhelming urge to escape. “Let go,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“I will,” he says, his tone soothing. “You’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “Just... put it away, okay?”

His tone cuts through the haze of my panic. I nod slowly, letting him slide the blade out of my hand and pocket it.

“Miray, right?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing. I nod reluctantly, my mind struggling to process. 

“I’m Jaden. We’re in the same class.”

I blinked at him. Had I seen him before? Maybe, but I’d never paid attention. I rarely talked to anyone.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

I nod again, letting him help me to my feet.

As Jayden and I entered the classroom, Evelyn was waiting at my usual spot. She gave us a curious look before we sat down with her. Surprisingly, she and Jayden connected right away, chatting with ease.

The three of us spent the rest of the day together. Jaden turned out to be easygoing and funny, his sense of humor breaking through the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying.

At one point, Evelyn leaned over and whispered, “He’s cute. Don’t you think?”

I glanced at Jaden, who was gesturing animatedly as he told a story about his old school. He was undeniably attractive, but my thoughts betrayed me, comparing him to Greyson. Grey had a sharper edge, a dangerous allure that Jaden didn’t have. And ..... I missed that.

By the time the day ended, we had exchanged numbers. “Text me if you need anything,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “I’m serious.”

I nodded, managing a small smile. “Thanks.”

---

The house feels still when I get home, the quiet stretching over me like a thin layer of ice. Evelyn’s cheerful chatter from earlier feels like a distant echo, and even Jaden’s concerned voice seems worlds away now.

I toss my bag onto the floor of my room and sink onto the bed, letting the weight of the day press down on me. But before I can lose myself to the spiral of my thoughts, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Miray? Can you come to my room?” It’s Elijah, his tone calm but firm.

I hesitate, debating whether I have the energy to face whatever this is about. But something in his voice leaves little room for argument, so I pull myself up and follow him. His room is warm and familiar, smelling faintly of his cologne and the mint tea he’s always drinking. Lorenzo is there too, leaning against the desk, his arms crossed but his expression open.

I sit on the edge of the bed, looking between them warily. “What’s going on?”

Elijah sits beside me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he says carefully. “About everything you’ve been going through. And I want to help.”

My chest tightens, and I look away, staring at the floor.

“I have a friend,” Elijah continues. “She’s a therapist. I think... I think it might help if you talked to her.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting for a response, but my throat feels tight. Therapy. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before, but hearing it spoken aloud makes it real in a way that scares me.

After what feels like forever, I whisper, “Will you be with me?” My voice is shaky, almost childlike, and I hate how small I feel.

Elijah’s hand tightens gently on my shoulder. “Of course,” he says softly. “Every step of the way.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

There’s a pause, the weight of the moment settling over us, before Lorenzo speaks up. “We’ve been talking about something else too,” he says, his voice low but steady. “We think it’s time you learn how to fight.”

I blink, my stomach flipping at the suggestion. “Fight?”

Elijah nods. “We’re not saying you have to fight anyone,” he clarifies. “But knowing how to defend yourself could make you feel safer. More in control.”

I shake my head instinctively, the thought too overwhelming. “I don’t know...”

“We’ll train you,” Lorenzo says, stepping closer. “Just the basics, at your pace. No pressure.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Elijah adds gently. “And we’ll be with you the whole time.”

Their words swirl around me, a mix of reassurance and apprehension. The idea of fighting feels foreign, almost impossible, but the way they’re looking at me—with so much patience, so much quiet determination—makes it hard to say no.

“Maybe next week,” I mumble finally, the words barely audible.

Elijah smiles, his relief palpable. “That’s all we’re asking.”

---

Later that day, I went to the room Elijah had made for me. It was my own little sanctuary, tucked away on the far side of the house—a space just for me to breathe, to think, and to lose myself in the music when words weren’t enough.

The room was simple but perfect. Warm, golden light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the polished wood floor. The piano sat against the far wall, its black surface reflecting the light like still water. Instruments and music sheets were neatly arranged, a small bookshelf filled with scores and notebooks I hadn’t touched in weeks.

I closed the door behind me, the faint click shutting out the world outside. For a moment, I just stood there, letting the quiet wash over me. It felt like stepping into another world, one where everything was still and safe.

I walked over to the piano, running my fingers along its smooth edge before sitting down on the bench. My hands hovered over the keys for a moment, uncertain. It had been so long since I’d played, and the thought of finding the music again felt both comforting and strange. Slowly, I pressed a single key, the soft note ringing out like a whisper.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, letting the tension in my shoulders melt away. My hands settled into position, and the first notes of "Somewhere Only We Know" drifted into the room. The melody was soft and familiar, each chord weaving together like a story I’d forgotten but somehow always known.

As the music filled the air, I found my voice. At first, it was quiet, almost tentative, but the words came naturally, carrying the weight of everything I’d been holding in.

"I walked across an empty land,

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand.

I felt the earth beneath my feet,

Sat by the river, and it made me complete."

My fingers moved effortlessly over the keys, my voice growing steadier as the song unfolded.

"Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I’m getting old, and I need something to rely on.

So tell me when you’re gonna let me in,

I’m getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin"

The melody softened as I moved into the bridge, my voice carrying the bittersweet longing of the song. The words felt heavier than usual, as if they were mine, as if I was singing to the parts of myself I’d been trying so hard to ignore.

"And if you have a minute, why don’t we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything,

So why don’t we go somewhere only we know?"

The final chords faded into the quiet, leaving the air heavy with stillness. I opened my eyes slowly, my hands lingering on the keys. A small, soft smile tugged at my lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel completely hollow. The music had left something behind—a fragile piece of calm, a flicker of light in the dark.

I stood up, smoothing my hands over my jeans before glancing around the room. It still felt like mine, a place where I could let the walls come down, even just a little. With one last look at the piano, I turned and left, quietly closing the door behind me.

The kitchen lights were warm and inviting, cutting through the shadows of the evening. Maxim was there, perched at the counter with his laptop, a mug of coffee steaming beside him. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked up the moment I stepped inside.

“Hey,” he said, closing the laptop and leaning back against the counter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” I said softly, walking over to the fridge. My stomach gave a low grumble, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since lunch. “I’m just hungry.”

Maxim smirked, crossing his arms. “Hungry enough to help me make pasta?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to do the fun parts?”

“Obviously,” he said, already moving to grab the ingredients.

The kitchen filled with the sound of clinking pots and quiet conversation, and for a little while, it felt like everything was almost normal.

---

After dinner, I spent hours at my desk, trying to lose myself in my studies. The sharp edges of math problems and the neat lines of my notes gave me something to hold onto—a little bit of control in the middle of the chaos inside my head. The soft scratching of my pen against the paper filled the room, blending into the quiet of the house like a kind of white noise.

By the time I closed my notebook, my eyes felt heavy, and my shoulders ached from hunching over for so long. I glanced at the clock—just after midnight. A yawn escaped me as I stacked my books into a neat pile, flicked off the desk lamp, and finally crawled into bed.

The moment my head hit the pillow, my body melted into the familiar softness of my blankets. My breathing slowed, and the exhaustion that had been building all day pulled me under like a tide.

Miray stood in a house she didn’t recognize. The walls were tall and shadowy, their edges blurring into darkness. The air was thick, heavy with a strange tension that pressed against her skin.

She turned slowly, her bare feet padding on the cold floor. Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to call out, the silence swallowing her words. The house felt alive, its shadows shifting, curling toward her like smoke.

A sound broke the stillness—a faint creak, like a door opening behind her. She spun around, her heart racing.

“Miray.”

The voice was soft but unmistakable, carrying that familiar edge of mockery. Adrian.

Her chest tightened as she saw him emerge from the shadows, his tall frame and sharp features illuminated by the faint light. He wore the same smug, predatory expression she remembered, his lips curled into a smirk that made her stomach twist.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

Miray stepped back instinctively, but the floor beneath her felt like quicksand, her movements slow and unsteady. “Stay away from me,” she said, her voice trembling.

Adrian tilted his head, his smirk deepening as he took a step forward. “Come on now. Don’t be like that.”

The shadows around him seemed to stretch, curling toward her as he closed the distance between them. Before she could react, his hand shot out, grabbing her arm with bruising force and yanking her close.

“You can’t run from me,” he said, his voice low and taunting.

Miray thrashed, trying to pull free, but his grip was unrelenting. The shadows around them seemed to thicken, the walls of the house closing in until there was nowhere to go.

“Let me go!” she screamed, her voice breaking.

Adrian’s smirk only grew, and before she could react, his hand moved to her face, his fingers gripping her chin tightly.

“You don’t get to say no to me,” he hissed, leaning closer. His breath was hot against her skin, his lips twisted into something cruel and possessive.

“No!” she cried, trying to turn her head away, but he held her in place. The air around them felt heavier, suffocating, as his lips descended toward hers—

                    Third Person's Pov

Miray woke with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in bed. Her chest heaved as though she’d just run a marathon, her hands trembling as they clutched the damp sheets. The room was dark and quiet, but the echoes of the nightmare clung to her like a second skin.

The phantom weight of Adrian’s hands lingered on her wrist, her chin, her body. She rubbed at her arms as if she could erase the feeling, her breaths shallow and uneven.

She stood up slowly, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Her throat felt tight, raw, as though she’d been screaming for real. Shaking, she reached for the glass of water on her desk, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.

The nightmare still lingered, vivid and unrelenting. Adrian’s voice, his touch, his laughter—it all felt too real, like he had been in the room with her.

Pushing the glass aside, Miray moved to the window, needing the cold night air to chase away the suffocating heat of the dream. She pushed the window open, letting the cool breeze rush in and wash over her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of her breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

The street below was quiet, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights. For a moment, it was peaceful, almost enough to calm the storm inside her. But then, something caught her eye.

A car.

It was parked at the far end of the street, barely visible in the dim light. Its sleek black body blended into the shadows, but its presence felt deliberate. Its engine was running, a faint hum she could just barely hear.

Miray frowned, leaning slightly out of the window to get a better look. There was no movement, no sign of the driver. The headlights were off, the car sitting in eerie stillness like a predator waiting to pounce.

Her heart began to race again, the unease from her nightmare bleeding into the present. Something about the car felt wrong, like it didn’t belong there.

And then, as if sensing her gaze, the car began to move.

Its engine growled softly as it rolled forward, the tires barely making a sound against the asphalt. Miray’s breath hitched as she watched it, her fingers tightening around the windowsill.

The car slowed for a moment, as though hesitating, before turning the corner and disappearing into the night.

Miray stood frozen, staring at the empty street where the car had been. A cold dread coiled in her stomach, her mind racing with questions she didn’t want to answer.

Was it just a coincidence? 

She closed the window quietly, her hands trembling as she latched it shut. The unease lingered, wrapping around her like a shadow.

Sliding back into bed, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, but sleep didn’t come......