In the dark basement of a magnificent mansion, the sound of a whip striking flesh echoed, followed by pained screams. The dim light flickered, revealing a young woman clothed in blood-soaked fabric. Layla stared at the woman before her — her so-called mother — who used her as a punching bag whenever things went wrong in her toxic marriage.
Her father was an abusive man, yet her mother clung to him as if he were her sun and moon. He knew about the torture Layla endured but never intervened. Instead, after every beating, he would smirk — as if to say, I made her the monster she is.
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At the top of a tall building stood a girl with blonde hair and an hourglass figure. Her face was a haunting mix of seduction and purity. Layla gazed down from the school rooftop, torn between life and death.
"You act pure, but you're nothing more than a dirty slt who seduces men. A whre," her mother's voice echoed in her head — the same words Alice had hurled at her after the last beating. It was as if her mother had whispered those lies into her father's ear too, planting twisted thoughts about his own daughter.
Growing up had been nothing short of a nightmare, poisoned by her parents' toxic relationship. Her father's cruelty began after years of waiting for a son that never came. He blamed Layla for everything — even for the moment he hurt her mother so badly that she lost her womb.
At first, his words pierced her like daggers, but after enduring years of torture, she became numb. Her body was covered in scars — reminders of every moment she wished she could forget.
School had once been her only safe haven. But that changed when Dean, her popular boyfriend and childhood friend, betrayed her.
Dean, the one she thought understood her, revealed how little he cared. "I only pitied you," he told her coldly. "You're like a stray dog I helped when I felt generous. But when you're not worth it anymore, I can toss you aside."
The day Layla caught him cheating, he looked at her as if she were some charity case, not a person with a heart that bled for him.
"Layla!" someone called, breaking her from her dark thoughts. She turned to see Saphira, her best friend, standing behind her.
"It's time to go home," Saphira said softly. Only then did Layla realize how long she had been standing there.
They walked together toward the stairs and came across Duke and the principal. Thankfully, Duke wasn't alone — otherwise, he would've found a way to throw cruel words her way. But by now, Layla had grown accustomed to pain; words barely hurt anymore.
Saphira and Layla hurried down the stairs, hoping to catch the bus before the crowd gathered. Once they boarded, Layla put on her earbuds and listened to one of her favorite songs. Before long, sleep claimed her — it was rare for her to find peace, even in dreams.
Saphira gently woke her when they reached their stop. They hugged tightly before parting ways. Saphira's home was only five minutes away, while Layla's was a fifteen-minute walk.
Later that evening, Saphira called, her voice laced with worry. "Layla, why were you standing at the edge of the building? You looked like you were thinking dangerous thoughts."
Layla laughed softly. "Don't think too much about it," she said, brushing it off.
"Just remember," Saphira replied, "you're not alone. Whenever you want to talk, I'll be here for you."
After the call ended, Layla continued walking home, humming her favorite tune — the melody that was now the only thing keeping her from silence.