---
Sometimes… sometimes I ask myself why I am like this.
No answer comes. It will not come.
Power… it was never given to me. And it shouldn't have been. If it were, I would have burned. I would have melted. I would have shattered.
Inside me, there is a little girl. Her lips are bloody. Silent. She screams, but only I can hear.
Every breath… blood. Every breath… pain. She is looking at me.
"Are we strong?"
"No," I say. My voice trembles, but I ignore it. "Never."
Why? Why am I not? What was missing in me? How different was I from the others?
I am drifting. There is no ground. Nothing to hold onto. Emptiness… a hole… the me inside disappears.
I mustn't remember. I must forget. But remembering makes me bleed. My memory is like a pierced curtain… my pieces scream… and I… I am gone.
The little girl asks again. Sharp. Silent. "Are we strong now?"
"No," I whisper to myself. "Perhaps… perhaps forgetting… forgetting will save us."
To forget… forgetting is like an embrace. Soft. Yet painful.
The edges of my fragmented soul… full of holes. Every piece blends into the next. Who am I? Where am I?
Perhaps I was never meant to be strong. Perhaps my strength… lies in forgetting.
And I am disappearing. With my shattered self. With the little girl. With blood. With silence.
To forget… to forget everything… to forget as if surrendering…
---
Silence… heavy, suffocating, hanging like a curtain. Liya steps forward. Her footsteps echo through the corridor, faster than her own heartbeat. When she pushes the door open, the world seems to pause for a moment.
A woman looks at her, eyes trembling with fear and shattered belief.
"Liya… why have you come?"
Liya curls her lips, a faint smile, sharp as a blade. "You called me, remember?"
A man rises, hands shaking, his voice desperate. "We… we trusted you. We entrusted everything to you."
"Trust?" Liya whispers, her voice embedding in the walls. "When broken… it bleeds sweetly." The little girl inside shivers, looking at him with bloody lips; her pain, her breath, her helplessness… all under Liya's control.
The woman trembles. "But… we believed in you!"
"You did," Liya says, coldly, with a measured delight. "But now… everything… is in my hands."
Selim stands quietly in the corner, eyes wide. "You… you're doing something wrong," he says.
Liya leans down, lips brushing Selim's ear. "Maybe… but fear… fear is my game."
The man gasps. "What do you want from us?"
"What do I want?" Liya laughs; there is no smile in her eyes, only sharp victory. "Everything… every secret… every tremble… will belong to me."
The woman steps back, one hand on the door. "Please… don't do this!"
Liya steps closer to the table. "Leave? No… we start now. Everything will be revealed… and you… will only watch."
The man holds his breath. "Why, Liya… why?"
"Because…" Liya whispers, breaking the silence. "Because power was never given to me. But fear… fear was mine."
The little girl inside bites her lips. Feeling the pain, trembling. Liya asks herself in a cold, sharp voice: "Are we strong now?"
The woman cries. "Do not harm us!"
"Harm?" Liya says, calm but absolute. "No… I am only exposing everything. Every secret… belongs to me. You… you watch. Every breath you take… beats to my rhythm."
Time slows. The corridor narrows. Liya scans their hearts; all must follow her rhythm. The little girl inside, the fractured self… all on the stage, victory and fear intertwined.
And Liya… both winner and loser… both strong and fragile… stands. Silent scream between breaths… controlling everything. Every moment, every shiver, every secret… hers.
---
Sometimes I think… I was never truly mine. Even as a child, my fate was as large as my father's fist. The blood squeezed between my fingers felt not mine, as if it belonged to another body… as if I lived someone else's life… And now, walking in the freezing streets in the middle of the night, my phone rings.
My father.
My greatest curse.
I answer because there is nowhere left to run. Because even darkness falls silent without his voice.
"How many times have I told you, don't act without my knowledge!" he hisses. The same arrogance, the same hate in his voice.
"You're good for nothing but bringing trouble upon us!"
For a moment, my vision darkens. An old wound opens in my heart. That moment again. Again, the absence of a mother hits me in the face. Reminding me of the mother I never had, who has no grave.
"First, stop cursing at me," I say, laughing. Behind my laugh, there is poison.
"How many times have I told you? You're breaking your only son's heart, Father."
His anger grows. Words lodge like thorns in my throat.
"No one mocks me! You wretched fool, you will kill me eventually! Motherless wretch!"
Motherless…
The word echoes in my mind a thousand times.
Motherless… motherless… motherless…
As if stamped on my forehead. As if I were born incomplete.
He doesn't know. Father, I search for my mother's grave every night. But the grave is empty. My mother is empty. I am empty.
My hand holding the phone trembles. Trembles so much that it feels like no blood flows in my fingers. Trembles so much I even loathe my own hand. And finally, I explode:
"I killed that son of a bitch!" I scream. "What now? Did you get your punishment, Father? Tell me now, can you still call me motherless? Or what do you want from me? Obedience? Hostility? Which game do you want me to be a victim of?"
Then I stop. Because my eyes meet his.
Him.
Emerging from the darkness like a shadow. Black as night. Like a statue yet alive. Carrying a wound, yet upright. The girl from years ago. The girl who once touched my heart and then slipped away.
We do not meet each other's gaze. He is drowning in his inner reckoning. I am reborn through his presence.
Years ago, I told God:
"If I see her again, I will believe in you."
And now, here she is.
I don't want to believe, but I do. Because she is not my salvation, but another door to hell. Yet my breath quickens, my heart tears at my chest.
My father is still yelling on the phone. I hardly hear him now. My inner screams are louder.
I whisper:
"The fire inside me has gone out, Father. Tonight, after twenty years, I will finally sleep peacefully."
But I know it's a lie. Because her presence is not sleep, but a nightmare. Yet I keep the promise I made to God. Her presence is a miracle. A match lit suddenly in the darkness. Brief, fleeting, scorching… but real.
I hang up the phone. In my palms, a rage knots my throat. My father is silent. The world is silent. Only she exists. And in her shadow, I no longer know who I am.
---
My lips still burn with her taste, as if my lips were set on fire. Why did I do it? Why? I cannot tame the ravenous wolf inside me. Perhaps I never could control myself. They had convinced me of the fairy tale of the strong woman; but in truth, strength is the pride that remains after a kiss. I have none of that pride.
I saw Taylan's eyes—surprised, foreign, not mine. And I pressed my lips to his. As if I had been starving all my life and they had finally offered me a crumb. Shame… swelling like pus inside me. With every breath, I vomit poison upon myself. "What have you done, Liya? Who are you?" I ask the phantom in the mirror. It gives no answer. For I do not know who I am.
What was I searching for in those lips? Consolation? Power? Or the heartbeat that proved I was still alive? None of it. The moment I kissed, the little girl inside screamed. She told me: "You will always lose. Whatever your hands touch, you taint."
Now, every thought of him tightens my chest. One part of me wants to rebuild; again, and again, and again… Another part wants to choke, silence, reset itself. Taylan's lips are still on me, but in his eyes, I saw a mirror: my loneliness. I am a woman who will never be loved. For I exist by consuming everything.
Perhaps, I did not kiss Taylan. Perhaps I kissed my own absence.
---
Fall 2010
Liya was six years old. She crouched by the window, counting the moments when raindrops hit the glass. Each drop struck like a slap, amplifying the silent fear inside her. The sky outside seemed to compete with the darkness within her; gray, heavy, and oppressive.
From the hallway came the heavy, stern footsteps of İsa. Liya's heart skipped its rhythm; even breathing felt like a crime. İsa burst through the door, his gaze pinning down her small body.
"What are you doing there?" His voice cut like a cold knife.
"Listening… to the rain," Liya replied, words tangled in her throat.
İsa stepped closer, his shadow spilling into the corners of the room. "Don't waste your time with such nonsense. Big girls don't do this," he said. Liya lowered her head, the fear inside her spreading like an ice block.
Yet inwardly, she continued counting the drops: one, two, three… Each count sheltered her in her own world. A place that belonged only to her. There, no one could touch her. But deep down, she knew the harsh reality waiting outside was unavoidable.
That evening, little Liya learned another secret: sometimes, to survive, you had to harden your heart like stone.
---
Present Day
Why, why, why…
I realized that all I know is asking "why." That little girl who knew nothing still lives inside me. She still fears the dark, but she pretends she doesn't, continuing her act.
Perhaps everything boiled down to one thing: succumbing to the snake's poison that called to me silently. I thought that venom was a cure, medicine. I didn't know it would burn me like fire.
When I found the note on my bed, I just stared at it until Taylan came into my room. I hid it under the blanket before he could notice it in my hand.
He was bare-chested. As he walked toward me, droplets of water clung to his Adonis-like form. I couldn't look away.
I was filled with immense regret. I feared that kissing him would make him see me as a simple girl. But I had to bear that fear because I wanted this.
He approached and asked curiously,
"Why are you still awake?"
I couldn't tell him I had found the note. I had secrets. I was deceiving him…
I took a step closer and said,
"I was waiting for you."
I had to play my role to trap him. I still had nine days. Tomorrow, the countdown would begin. From today, I had to act to influence him.
I treated my other targets the same way; but I had never had physical contact. I had no emotions. Yet with Taylan, I felt something. Once I felt it, I couldn't restrain myself.
"Why are you so fast?" Taylan asked.
I smiled mockingly.
"You know I want more than that kiss, don't you?" I said. It was part of the act, but not entirely a lie. I wanted it.
He took another step closer, his warm breath brushing my face.
"I thought this was a role, something you did for your family, something fake. But now, I don't understand why you're doing this," he said.
I was lying on the bed; I took his arm and drew him close. I leaned toward his ear.
"Maybe my thoughts changed after the kiss," I whispered.
I wanted to die. Damn it, I was embarrassed. I had never felt shame before. But standing in front of him, I was. Because I had been affected. I could not act this way toward men I liked.
As he leaned back on the bed, he took my arm and pressed my back against the mattress. Suddenly, he was on top of me. Close to each other. He started kissing my neck, inching toward my chest. I felt my body respond. Damn, he was bringing me to this state so fast.
Suddenly, he stopped. His lips paused at my neck.
He got off me and with a stern expression, as if regretting it, said:
"Sorry. I don't want you to misunderstand. I don't want to give you false hope. This marriage won't happen. I didn't want this. Züleyha wanted it. Do you understand?"
My heart broke. Damn, it broke…
Just because Züleyha wanted it, would everything change? But no. He was my prey; I would capture him. He had no idea. Yet his pulling back after teasing me hurt.
When he got off the bed, he didn't even look me in the eyes.
Turning away, he said,
"Good night, Liya."
I couldn't respond. The door closed, leaving me alone.
I was so broken, so hurt. Being left alone hurt the most.
But I couldn't say anything. I had to deceive him, and he knew nothing.
Yet, being hurt by him affected me. I didn't want to give in easily. But as with every man I liked, I would falter. Perhaps even worse this time, because it was the first time I felt something for a prey I was deceiving.
The winter sun struck my face through the window as if to wake me. The bed was wide, and I had slept well. I rarely slept comfortably anywhere else; this place was even more comforting than my own bed.
I had to go downstairs, but changing felt too burdensome. But I had no choice; Taylan might come to my side. After last night, I didn't know if he would, yet I still hesitated.
I changed into black Spanish-style trousers and a red blouse. I brushed my hair and got ready to go to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I headed to the stairs.
The kitchen smelled amazing. Perhaps he had prepared breakfast, and it made me happy. But when I entered, Taylan Sarp Parskan had already finished eating.
"I've eaten; you eat and let's go," he said.
Really? Really? Really? He hadn't wanted to eat with me, and now he said this so casually? I didn't move a step toward him. I said, "I don't like breakfast; let's just go."
"Don't go hungry. Make something for yourself," he said.
He was right. Why was I expecting anything from him? Yet when I said I didn't want to eat, he accepted it, and we walked to the car.
We didn't speak until we got in. Even the music didn't play. The silence likely reflected the regret of our kiss. Most likely, we both realized what we did shouldn't have happened.
Suddenly, the car stopped. Taylan got out and walked somewhere. I didn't even look. But five minutes later, he returned with a sandwich and coffee. He handed them to me.
I couldn't believe it… Was this really for me?
"Eat this. I don't like seeing someone starve," he said.
I looked at him and said, "I won't eat. You bought it for nothing."
But at that moment, my stomach growled. Damn it, why now? I thought.
Hearing this, Parskan laughed. A lot. He leaned closer and said,
"Come on, eat. Don't resist; even your stomach is crying, didn't you hear it?"
I pushed him back and said angrily,
"Shut up, fine, I'll eat."
The road seemed endless. My mind kept returning to the note. Who could it be? Who was playing a game with me? I thought it might be Taylan, but why would he? No one else was home—or so I thought. The thought sent chills down my spine.
Looking out the window, heavy winter rain began to pour. There was already a strong wind, and I loved traveling by car in this weather. I enjoyed daydreaming during rides—it was one of my favorite things.
The silence broke with a phone call. It was coming from Taylan's iPhone. Mine was neither new nor an iPhone, so I didn't reach for it. I didn't want to spend so much on a phone.
When Taylan answered, he said angrily,
"What do you want from me?"
I could barely hear the voice on the other end, laughing:
"Bro, we haven't seen each other for days, we missed you. Come. I have a surprise for you."
"What surprise the hell? I didn't ask for a surprise from you. Mert, I'm driving now," he said angrily.
"Come on, bro, it's important, we're calling you for a reason. Are you coming or not? You're going to fish like the guys from the Black Sea, doing your job, right?" said Mert, laughing.
Taylan looked at me angrily, then said, "Okay, we're coming."
Mert: "Whoa, bro, who are you with?" he asked. Taylan didn't even answer him and hung up.
I asked him, "Why didn't you answer your friend's question?"
"What can I say? Am I going with the girl I'm fake marrying? What were you expecting?"
I stayed silent, looking ahead. His treatment hurt, but I tried not to show it. Seeing me mad, he grabbed my arm and said,
"Okay, I'm sorry."
I didn't respond. I was giving him a silent trip, hoping he wouldn't notice.
When we got out, it was raining heavily. We had no umbrella, so we had to rush toward the office. I ran, because though I loved rain, I hated getting wet, which made Taylan laugh. He touched my back, letting me go in front, whispering, "Are you a cat?" I looked at him angrily.
The office was huge. Our "workplace" would barely compare.
We took the elevator upstairs. Taylan went ahead. One of his friends said: "Look who's here, look who's here!"
They were actually not as friendly as they acted in the car. They hugged and greeted him. Then Mert finally saw me and whispered, "Whoa, who is this?"
Taylan pulled me close, holding my hand, "The girl is with me," he said.
What? He held my hand? The girl is with him? I couldn't understand.
Mert, coming to his senses, said, "What do you mean 'girl is with you'?"
Taylan pushed him jokingly, "Bro, weren't you my closest friend? Didn't you know? I'm marrying in nine days."
Mert muttered a word: "Holy… Bro, are you serious?"
Then a girl's voice said, "Hello Taylan."
Taylan raised his eyebrows, turning in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
The girl looked at our hands and smiled faintly. She was brunette, slightly older than me, tall and beautiful.
Taylan stepped toward her and pulled me along, saying, "I asked, what are you doing here?"
The girl extended her hand to me. I reached out, so it wouldn't hang awkwardly. When we shook hands, she looked at me and said:
"Hello, I'm Selen. I'm Taylan's ex-girlfriend."
Ex… girlfriend…
---
Liya
My desk seemed messy, but everything was planned—or so I thought. I opened the files, checked contracts, reviewed ledgers. Yet something was missing. A small, invisible detail… my mind screamed: "Liya… how could you forget this?"
I pulled the chair three times, placed the pen dead center, turned the cup just so. Everything had to be perfect, or my mind would burn, swallowed by the deep wells of my obsession.
Last night, I deceived a family. The trust in their eyes, the astonishment in every movement… my soul was filled with both triumph and guilt. Yet now, that forgotten detail… one tiny mistake overshadowed everything. Inside me, a void stirred; silent, hungry, like a beast.
Amid money and documents, I trembled; every action a compulsive ritual to cover my error. Yet the missing piece hovered like a black cloud over my mind. The one thing I could never control… myself.
People see only Liya: strong, flawless, brilliant. But the real me… chaotic, fragile, trapped in my own cage. Every slip, every obsession, every mistake… a chain tightening around me, suffocating me.
And still… I love myself. This chaos, this disorder, perhaps even my charm. People sense it, wonder, admire. But I live fully aware of the void inside me; guilt and pleasure, fear and desire, loneliness and passion intertwined.
I am Liya. Flawed, complex, obsessive, forgetful. Strong and fragile. And perhaps most of all… I betray myself. Yet, I remain standing. And maybe, that is why people admire me.