I had never wanted to come here. The abandoned house stood lifeless among the old buildings in the rural town, its cracked walls and broken windows exuding the stench of mold and dampness that made my stomach churn. Disgust coiled around me as I stepped on the worn wooden floor, a faint shiver running through my body as if every corner of this place were trying to push me out.
I stepped slowly, each step creaking on the worn wooden floor, my eyes darting left and right in disgust. Dust fell from the ceiling, small animals scurried through the shadows, and even the heavy air pressed on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Everything around me seemed alive in a repulsive way, as if the house itself were watching me.
Shadows stretched along the cracked walls and floors, moving slowly as if alive —staring at me in silence. Fear coiled around my heart: how could I stay here? In such a frightening house, surrounded by shadows that never rest or disappear. Every corner, every room, whispered softly to me: "You are not welcome…"
My siblings, however, seemed in another world. They ran through the house laughing and jumping on the worn floors, as if they were in a playground. Nora caught the glowing dust of sunlight streaming through the windows and waved it into the air with enthusiasm, while the others hid behind broken walls, shouting in delight. Their loud laughter made me feel alienated amidst this small chaos.
Every step I took felt heavy, and every glance at the shadows made my chest tighten even more, as if staying here wasn't just difficult… but truly torturous.
After hours of cleaning, the place began to regain some of its shape, although the smell of dampness and dust lingered in the air. My siblings sat on the worn sofas after my father had covered them with old blankets, while he turned on the tiny TV that barely worked. The children were quickly drawn to the screen, their loud laughter covering the eerie silence of the house.
I was absorbed with my siblings in front of the TV, watching intently as if the screen were pulling me away from the unpleasant reality around me. The colors and rapid movements were all I could see, and I didn't notice the shadows filling the corners of the house, silently watching me.
My father called me softly from afar, whispering my name several times, but I didn't respond, as if I hadn't heard. After a moment, he approached with steady steps, grabbed my hand firmly, and pulled me away from the TV toward another room, leaving my siblings engrossed in their laughter.
He led me to a side room away from the noise of my siblings and the TV, closing the door quietly behind him. I still felt uneasy being away from the screen, but his serious gaze silenced me. He leaned slightly closer and said in a low voice:
― "Lift your hair cover… and take off your glasses."
I hesitated for a moment, then obeyed slowly. I lifted the cover from my head, letting my pure white hair fall over my shoulders, and revealed my crimson eyes behind the dark glasses. I felt the weight of my parents' gaze on me for long seconds, as if they were trying to delve into my features.
Finally, my father spoke:
― "Can you hide your appearance? Try now."
I froze. My eyes dropped to the floor, then I raised them to my tense parents before turning my face away to stare at the gray wall opposite me. I took a deep breath, trying to focus despite my trembling fingers.
In the blink of an eye… everything changed. The whiteness of my hair vanished, replaced by the black strands as they had been before. My eyes lost their terrifying redness, returning to their calm, dark state, just as they were before the power changed me. I stared at my reflection for a moment, feeling a strange relief seep into my chest, as if I had regained a piece of my lost self.
My father exhaled in quiet relief before saying:
― "It's good that you can manipulate your powers too."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, looking at him in confusion and whispering:
― "And what does that mean?"
He remained silent for a few seconds, then gestured toward me:
― "Look at us…me and your mother. Can you feel our presence?"
I was silent for a moment, closing my eyes to focus, then said slowly:
― "Mom… I feel her as if there's an aura around her, radiating something I can't describe. But you, Dad… I don't feel anything toward you."
My father nodded firmly and said:
― "This is called manipulation… hiding your power from the world and controlling it easily. Very few possess this ability. So I won't worry about you, because I know you can control it already."
A heavy silence fell between us, as if the words just spoken weighed down the air. Then I broke the silence with a trembling voice:
― "I don't understand… why do we have these powers? Who are we?"
My father's gaze hardened like stone as he said:
― "We are just humans born this way. And the world must not know. And you too… never, ever use your power, no matter what. Do you understand?!"
I turned my gaze away, frowning, and whispered:
― "Does everyone see what I see?"
My father leaned in slightly, asking cautiously:
― "What do you see?"
I lifted my head toward him, anger burning in my chest, then shouted:
― "The shadows! This disgusting atmosphere!"
― "Nariman!" my mother suddenly shouted, her voice sharp and filled with worry.
I froze for a few seconds, then spun around and ran quickly toward the room's door, opening it violently and slamming it behind me, leaving the silence to swallow what remained of our conversation.
My mother turned to her husband, frowning, and said in a hushed, worried voice:
"Don't anger her — she's the one you must never anger, and you know why."
My father sighed deeply, then raised his voice suddenly:
― "Nora! Come here quickly!"
Nora appeared, running, her breath coming before her words, and said anxiously:
― "What is it?"
He gestured at her sternly:
― "Enter… and close the door behind you."
Nora swallowed, looked at them fearfully, and asked in a hesitant voice:
― "Did I do something wrong?"
My father approached her, his voice low but filled with threat:
― "Whatever you saw… do not tell your siblings, or you will be punished."
Nora raised her eyebrows curiously, unable to stop herself from asking:
― "But… why?!"
My father struck the table with his hand and shouted:
― "I will not repeat myself!"
Nora gasped in fear, then exhaled with a frown, turning her gaze away as she said:
― "Fine…"
At school, Nariman always appeared absent-minded, her eyes fixed on a place that no one else could see. While the students busied themselves with books and papers, she watched the shadows moving slowly between desks and walls. They crept closer and closer until she felt surrounded, silently staring at her, as if stealing her breath away.
She couldn't focus on a single word or number; her hands trembled whenever she held a pen. Her mind was consumed only by those dark eyes that never left her. Over the days, her grades began to drop, her papers filled with mistakes that she quickly hid in her bag before her parents could see. But it didn't remain hidden for long, as a teacher reported her to her father.
That night, her father called her sternly. She sat before him, his angry gaze weighing down her chest. He said sharply:
― "Your grades are poor, you're not focusing on your lessons… what is this negligence, Nariman?"
She couldn't take it anymore, tears spilling suddenly as she sobbed:
― "I can't focus! The shadows don't leave me for a moment! Why don't you understand?!"
The moment she spoke, the windows shook violently, doors rattled, and the glass cracked from the force of her reaction. Her father froze for a moment, then rushed toward her and grabbed her shoulders, his voice uneasy:
― "Enough! If you don't want to go to school… fine! You won't be forced anymore!"
Nariman, tears still in her eyes, looked at him in astonishment, her voice hoarse:
― "Really?"
Her father sighed slowly, placing his hand on his face as if to hide his discomfort, then nodded silently.
But her mother's voice suddenly rose in worry and alarm:
― "Wait! Her future will be ruined like this!"
Her father turned to her, his eyes calm despite the tense situation, and said firmly:
― "We'll discuss this later."