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The sky outside was still dark, a deep shade of indigo that hinted at the early hours of morning. Layla lay tangled in her sheets, her brow damp with sweat, her breathing erratic. She had just woken from a nightmare that left her shaken to the core.
In her dream, a man clad in a long, black-cloaked outfit sat upon a colossal stone chair. His face was hidden, obscured by shadows and swirling black smoke—or perhaps some kind of dark energy that pulsed around him like a living aura. He held a massive sword, easily a meter long, resting between his knees. Though his head was bowed, muttering words Layla couldn't understand, there was something profoundly disturbing about his presence.
Suddenly, the man raised his head. His face became visible—handsome, almost striking. But even with just one glance, Layla instinctively knew he was not a good person. His beauty was deceiving, hiding something dark and dangerous within.
Layla shot up in bed, gasping. Her heart was pounding, and an unshakable unease had settled in her chest. She turned her head and looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was 4:03 AM.
Unable to fall back asleep, she pushed the covers aside and stepped onto the cold floor. She walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and took a few sips. The cold liquid helped settle her nerves a little.
A soft creak echoed from down the hallway. Her mother's bedroom door was slightly ajar.
"Layla? Why are you up this early?" her mother, Elif, asked groggily.
Layla turned around, offering a small smile. "I don't know, Mom. I just couldn't sleep anymore. Thought I'd come and have some water."
Elif stepped out, her robe wrapped around her tightly. "You're still recovering. You need rest."
"Don't worry, Mom," Layla said, brushing it off with a reassuring smile. "I feel fit as a fiddle. I'm just going to stretch my legs a bit in the courtyard."
"Okay, but don't overdo it, sweetie," Elif replied before going to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.
Layla slipped on a hoodie and stepped outside into the cool morning air. The courtyard was still, blanketed in a quiet hush. She began her workout routine—some light jogging, stretches, and strength exercises. As she moved, the tension from the nightmare started to ease. By the time she was done, the sky was tinged with a soft pink glow. It was 5:00 AM.
She returned indoors, heading straight to the bathroom to shower. The warm water washed away the last traces of her unease. She dressed in her school uniform—a crisp white shirt and navy-blue skirt—and packed her backpack.
When she came into the kitchen, her younger brother Emre was already seated at the table, munching on his breakfast.
"Good morning, sis!" Emre chirped with his usual youthful energy.
"Morning, Emre," Layla said, ruffling his hair as she passed by.
Elif glanced at her daughter. "Now that you're up and dressed, I suppose I won't waste time trying to convince you to rest another day. You seem determined."
"Yeah, Mom. The break ended a week ago, and I already missed the whole first week. I can't afford to skip anymore," Layla replied as she took her seat.
"Alright then, go wash your hands quickly and come eat. You'll need energy."
Layla quickly did as instructed and sat down to a hearty breakfast of bread, cheese, olives, and eggs. After she ate, her mother handed her a folded envelope.
"Here's your pocket money for the month—1,500 lira. Don't spend it all on snacks."
Layla grinned. "Thanks, Mom."
She kissed her mother on the cheek, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and headed out the door. If she walked, it would take about twenty minutes to reach school—but she didn't mind. The air was fresh, the sun had begun to rise, and the streets were still quiet.
As she walked along the sidewalk, Layla suddenly paused. She thought she heard something. A faint, desperate cry. She glanced around but saw no one. Shaking her head, she kept walking.
Then she heard it again—clearer this time. A voice, weak and distressed, calling for help.
Without thinking twice, Layla turned in the direction of the sound. She moved quickly, her instincts sharpening. She walked for about two hundred meters down a smaller, less-used road—a path she'd never taken before.
Then she saw it. A car had crashed and overturned on the side of the road. Smoke rose from its engine, and sparks flickered near the base. It was only a matter of time before it caught fire. Inside, a middle-aged woman was trapped, her face pale and streaked with blood.
Layla ran forward.
"Hey! Please, find someone to help me!" the woman cried out in a panic. Her eyes darted to Layla's uniform, noting how young and slight she looked. She didn't believe this girl could help physically—but perhaps she could fetch someone who could.
Layla didn't waste time. She rushed to the car, trying the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Locked or jammed from the impact.
She clenched her jaw. "Hold on. I'll get you out."
She grasped the door with both hands and pulled. She meant to use a little extra strength—but what happened next startled even her. The door ripped from its hinges and flew nearly a full kilometer away, landing with a loud crash somewhere in the distance.
Layla's eyes widened in horror. The woman inside gawked, speechless.
But Layla snapped out of it and immediately reached into the vehicle, helping the injured woman crawl out. With surprising ease, she lifted her and carried her away from the car, moving at least fifty meters back to safety. She set her down gently on a patch of grass.
Just then, the vehicle exploded behind them, a fiery blast shooting into the sky.
Layla shielded the woman with her body as debris rained around them.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice firm but kind.
The woman stared at her in disbelief. "Y-Yes… but… how did you—?"
Layla shook her head. "We need to call emergency services. Hold on."
She pulled out her phone and dialed. The operator picked up, and she calmly gave their location and reported the crash.
Minutes later, sirens wailed in the distance. An ambulance and a police car arrived swiftly. The paramedics took over, examining the woman and loading her into the vehicle. A police officer approached Layla.
"You found her?" he asked.
"Yes," Layla said.
"And the car? Did you move her before it exploded?"
"Yes," she replied again, cautiously.
The officer gave her a curious look but didn't press further. "You probably saved her life."
Layla didn't answer. She glanced toward the rising sun. Ooh… shit! I'm late for school!
Before she could take a step, one of the paramedics called her and told her that the middle-aged woman wanted her name.
Then she said, "Layla Aksoy."
The paramedic glanced at the school badge on Layla's uniform, then nodded.
With that, Layla ran toward school.
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