Alina's First Love...Her great passion, a naive girl unaware of the weight of the step she took, who would unknowingly be shaped by the person who led her to this point. Damien... She used to believe in fairy tales, seeing him at that age as a safe harbor where she could trust and find solace. By his side, everything felt right, everything seemed in its proper place. But as time passed, and the relationship began to normalize, Alina hadn't realized it. Damien didn't love her, didn't value her—he only possessed her. Alina, so eager to be loved and to feel valuable, had come to see Damien's control, his emotional manipulation, as "love."
At first, Damien's attention seemed like the only light in Alina's world. She was searching for her worth, for meaning in her existence, in his eyes. But as time passed, Damien's love stopped being a reflection and began to demand more and more from Alina. She began to shape herself emotionally and physically according to Damien's demands. Whenever she said "no," Damien controlled her with manipulations that deepened the emptiness inside her. "I just love you," he would say, manipulating her, making her lose herself. Under the mask of "love," he broke her, and the loneliness and helplessness he made her feel eventually became a reflection of herself.
At first, Damien's pressure on Alina went unnoticed, but it gradually grew into an unbearable weight. With each passing day, Alina lost more of herself. Her search for love kept her trapped, while Damien's deceitful behavior and the way he showed her "love" physically and emotionally destroyed her. But Alina, rather than accepting the love was unrequited, began to tolerate every bad behavior. She deceived herself by thinking, "He does this because he loves me."
At some point, Alina began to feel like an object. She had expected more than just Damien's attention, but all she got was his control and manipulation. This emotional pressure gradually darkened Alina's inner world. Every day, she lost more of her identity because she could only transform into the person Damien wanted her to be. Every "no" she said only isolated her further.
Alina never truly felt "belonged." The walls of the house she was born in were always silent; there was no voice, no gaze, no touch that could understand the storms inside her. Maybe her family loved her—at least, she wanted to believe that they did—but their love was like whispers behind a wall: unreachable, untouchable, unfelt.
Her mother expressed love not through tears but through neatly prepared meals, ironed sheets. Her father... with silence. His love, perhaps, was hidden in the unspoken things: the bills paid on time, the heater turned on at the right moment—but never a hug or a "How are you?" that conveyed love.
Alina didn't understand this when she was a child. She sensed that something was missing, but she couldn't name it. There was always an emptiness inside her that churned but couldn't be expressed. Whenever she was scared, happy, or just wanted to talk... she swallowed her words. Because the only thing she'd get in return was the same: silence, or a change of subject.
Over time, she learned: love had to be kept hidden; that was the language of this house. Emotions had to be kept under control. Crying was weakness, anger was bad manners, and excitement meant being "too much." And Alina never wanted to be "too much." Slowly, her soul shrank; she locked her emotions in a box, unconsciously throwing the key inside.
Sometimes, in her family's gazes, she would catch a glimmer of love. But even in those moments, a sense of estrangement settled deep within her. Was she loved, or was she merely being made to exist out of a sense of responsibility? She never got a clear answer to this question. And that uncertainty became the deepest wound within her.
When she met Damien... perhaps that's why she clung to him. She even tried to understand his anger because, at least there, there was emotion. Even if it hurt, it was felt. Whereas her family... had always been deaf to the storms inside her.
She couldn't sleep at night. That night was no different. Staring at the ceiling, the only thing echoing in her mind was: "Can I live with this forever?" She questioned who she was, why she was in this world, and why she felt so incomplete. She questioned herself until morning. As the sun rose, she had made a decision. This was her life. The more she stayed silent, the more she disappeared. She put on her dress, tied her hair up, took a deep breath, and left the house. The sun was rising in all its brightness. The sky was clear, but Alina's insides were still cloudy.
As she headed toward Damien's, the knot in her heart was tight. Once, she had thought she loved him. But now, unease had crept into every moment. When she was with him, she felt as though she had disappeared. And she finally said, "It's not working anymore." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were determined.
For a brief moment, anger flared in Damien's eyes. Alina took a step back, but it was too late. While her words still lingered in the air, the harshness of his body slamming into hers silenced everything. She was stunned. She was scared. Many times, her soul had shattered, but this physical pain... this was something she hadn't expected.
All the beautiful memories of him were buried in that moment. Damien was no longer someone she knew. His proximity, his breath, his touch repulsed her. She struggled. Every movement only fueled Damien's anger. Her screams echoed off the cold walls of the room as tears flowed from her eyes.
She couldn't clearly remember what happened next. Everything was fragmented. She had resisted. But what was done was done.
***
She didn't know how much time had passed. Was it night or day? Had it been hours, days, or weeks since she had disappeared?
It was probably night. Alina was in that blurry space between dream and wakefulness. While her body still carried the pain of escaping Damien's dungeon, her mind began to wander through another kind of darkness, between the shadows of her childhood.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in her old house. The hallways were still long. The floor creaked, and yellowish light filtered through the windows. The air always carried that same smell of soap and dried flowers. But it wasn't warmth; it was distance. That scent reminded her not of motherhood, but of habit.
Alina stopped at the kitchen door. Her mother was there, silently wiping the glasses with a towel in her hand. She didn't look up. It was as if Alina wasn't there. It was as if her presence was nothing more than a blurred figure in her mother's eyes. Alina said, "Mom?" but her voice didn't echo. It was as if the walls of the house had sworn not to hear her.
A moment later, she headed to the living room. Her father was sitting on the couch, watching the news. His eyes were glued to the screen, and his lips were a straight line. Alina sat beside him. She wanted to ask: "Why didn't you ever ask about me? Why didn't you ever say, 'Are you okay?'" But the words froze in her mouth. Because she knew the answer: They didn't know how to ask.
And then, in that moment, little Alina appeared in front of her. She was four years old. She had a worn-out stuffed bear in her hand. Her eyes were huge, but there was no light in them. She seemed to want to run to her mother, but with every step, she slowed down, grew quieter. Eventually, she stopped in place. Her shoulders slumped. She dropped the bear on the floor. Silently, she turned and walked into the darkness.
Alina's heart twisted. She wanted to run, to embrace that child, to tell her, "They don't believe in you, but I hear you!" But she couldn't take a step. Her knees locked. Because that little girl was herself. And what hurt her the most wasn't neglect; it was being ignored.
Suddenly, the light in the dream shone brightly. That familiar gleam. The voice that called from the depths of her soul echoed once again:
"The place you thought you were unloved was a world that didn't know you. True love is still on its way."
***
The forest was like a silent grave. Everything seemed alive, but inside, behind the wooden walls, time was dead. Alina could no longer remember where she was or how long she had been held there. Hunger sometimes passed, other times it twisted like a knife lodged between her ribs. But the most unbearable thing wasn't loneliness.
It was Damien.
Every time the door's hinges creaked, a shiver ran through her body. His arrival, his voice, everything about him had turned into a trauma echoing in her mind. Damien came at irregular intervals. Sometimes he would be gone for days, other times he would come for several nights in a row, destroying the silent world built by loneliness.
Each time he arrived, first the sound of footsteps could be heard. Rough, heavy steps that crushed the floor beneath. Alina would hold her breath. Her body would instinctively pull back against the walls. When Damien entered, the darkness deepened. Anger felt like a heat on her skin; his gaze burned like a whip.
"You can't escape," he would say every time. "I will find you."
His voice had etched itself into Alina's eardrums. Every word felt like a nail scraping at her insides. In his eyes, the thing she had once thought was love had turned into nothing. Only control, only anger remained.
Sometimes Damien would just stare, standing in the room without saying a word for hours. The tension in the silence was harder than any slap. But sometimes... his hands would speak. Even if Alina hadn't made a mistake, Damien's anger was irrational. The slaps echoed in the air, crashing with the dust on the ground.
One day, kneeling on the ground, with tears mixing into the earth, Damien approached. "You don't even know what you've done to me, do you?" he said. "You brought me to this state."
Alina didn't speak. She had learned not to. Silence was sometimes a shelter. But if there was still resistance in her eyes, when Damien noticed it, he became even more enraged.
"Lower your gaze!" he shouted one night. Then he threw her to the floor, her head slammed against the wood. Her eyes darkened for a moment. More than the pain in her body, the sound of her breaking inside echoed in her mind.
And still... the nights somehow passed. In her dreams, the same light always appeared. A thin, but distinct glow that floated in the darkness. She hadn't given it a name, but she felt it: this light was calling her. "Don't forget who you are. This is not the end."
One night, after Damien had left, he was so angry that he hadn't closed the door properly. As Alina lay on the floor, she saw the gap between the boards out of the corner of her eye. That light... maybe it was real. A voice echoed inside her:
"Now."
She didn't lift her trembling body from the ground; she crawled forward. Each drag of her body scraped her skin on the wooden floor, her elbows covered in blood. But the pain no longer belonged to her. In the darkness, she couldn't see the drop that slid onto her lips: was it blood, sweat, or tears... she couldn't tell.
When she reached the door, she took a breath. Maybe it was her last breath. Maybe it was her first. She slipped her fingers into the gap of the door, pushed it open. Silence flooded in like a buzzing wind. And outside...
The forest.
Deep, wild, unknown. But free.
With her first step, her knees gave out. She collapsed to the ground. The earth wrapped around her skin. At that moment, she realized: all this time, living behind the wooden walls, nothing had ever truly touched her. But now, even the cold earth embraced her body like a mother's warmth.
She slowly got up. Her feet were bare. Mud filled between her toes. Moist grass brushed against her skin.
And then she ran.
Her first steps were wobbly. But her heart seemed to have already made its decision. Thorny bushes pierced her legs, thin branches wrapped around her arms, her hair got caught in the bark of trees. But Alina realized that even nature's pain didn't hurt her. These pains weren't as cold as Damien's hands. These pains were real, yes, but they weren't enemies.
With every step she took, a piece of her past fell away from her shoulders. The sky was pitch black, but the stars...
Here was the light.
That thin, soft light that had always hovered like hope in her dreams; now it seemed to be watching her from between the trees. One star was brighter than the others. It seemed to be drawing a path, showing her the way. Alina, unknowingly, headed toward it. As she stumbled and moved forward, instead of the broken, fragmented voice inside her, a firm whisper rose:
"Don't forget who you are. This is not the end."
She fell between the roots of a tree. Her hand rested on a moss-covered stone. The stone felt warm.
She stood up.
She kept running.
A stream appeared in front of her. The water was murky but alive. She dipped her hands into it and brought the water to her lips. It tasted bitter. But it was life. Then she continued forward.
The night was not silent. Owls, a distant howling wolf, the rustling of leaves... Alina realized for the first time that she wasn't afraid of the dark. Because there was direction in the darkness now. And with every step, Damien's voice was fading away from her mind.
How much time had passed, she didn't know. Time had a different meaning in the forest.
Her knees were no longer just bleeding, they were trembling from within. The soles of her feet, stripped of skin. Her fingers swollen, her eyes bloodshot. But there was a spark in her eyes. It was the insistence of life itself.
Finally...
A silhouette appeared through the mist.
A hut. Small, a mix of stone and wood. Thin smoke rose from its roof. The door was slightly ajar.
At that moment, Alina was afraid. What if it was a trap? What if the next step led to Damien's hands?
But then...
A warmth seeped from inside.
Light.
That dream light.
And a woman appeared at the door. With long white hair and black eyes, she was watching her. Her face was young but timeless. She looked at Alina's condition, but in her gaze, there was neither pity nor curiosity. Only... recognition.
The woman took a step forward.
"My name is Rhea," she said. "You are safe now."
Her voice penetrated Alina's soul. Was it the same voice from her dreams?
She collapsed onto her knees. She had no strength left to stand. The woman came closer, opened her arms. And for the first time, when Alina locked eyes with someone, she felt no shame.
She cried.
But these tears were no longer from fear; they were tears of letting go, of healing.
Days passed. Maybe three, maybe ten. Perhaps time had melted into the silence Alina had buried herself in. Inside the hut, nothing was forced. Rhea didn't ask anything. She was just there. At night, she would brew tea and place it beside Alina. During the day, she would open the window, letting fresh air inside. It was as if Rhea knew that Alina's soul needed a window too.
Alina didn't speak. Her eyes would sometimes fill with tears, but she didn't cry. Her lips were dry, but she didn't say a word. She got used to Rhea's presence; that steady, silent, accepting warmth. One morning, while Rhea sat on a chair mixing ancient herbs, Alina watched her. She whispered to the herbs between her fingers. It was like life: some things were picked out, and then new ones were placed in their place.
That day, Alina had dreamt of nightmares all night. Again, Damien's footsteps, again the creaking of the wooden door, again those dark hands... She woke up crying but didn't even notice. She just pulled the blanket tighter around her.
Rhea didn't say anything. She slowly came over and sat beside her. She placed another blanket on Alina's shoulder. In that moment... something broke. Something deep inside.
Tears began to flow from Alina's eyes. Silently. Without screaming. But that silence shook the entire hut. She cried without sobbing, without even taking a full breath. The tears streamed down her cheeks, to her chin, to her chest. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the blanket. Along with the tears, the past was pouring out.
Rhea didn't say a word. But she didn't leave either.
Finally, Alina whispered, in a barely audible voice:
"No one ever heard me."
Rhea simply nodded. It was as if she wanted to show Alina that she had heard that voice no one else had.
"Even at home..." Alina's voice was brittle, fragile. "...I never truly felt loved. Everyone just 'tolerated' me. I thought if I behaved perfectly, I would be accepted. But I just... went unseen."
Another silence followed. Then came the sentence that had echoed within Alina for years but had never come out:
"I wanted my mother to love me. But she never hugged me. She just expected me to be okay."
Rhea bowed her head. She wasn't standing on top of Alina's pain, but beside it.
"And Damien..." Alina's voice had become numb. "I thought I loved him. At least, I felt like he saw me. Even his anger. But... I just clung to his shadow. I thought it was love. I thought it was the shadow."
Tears came again. This time, sobs accompanied them.
"I... I couldn't be enough for anyone. I always waited for love like a reward. I was never loved just for being me."
Rhea silently extended her hand. Alina's hands hesitated at first. Then, she took it. Tight. As if a place inside her, that had never been touched, was waking up.
Then Rhea spoke. Her voice was very soft, but the strength it carried was deep enough to cover all the nightmares:
"I didn't talk to you because I was waiting. I was waiting for you to surface from the depths of the water. But know this, Alina... someone needs to touch you. Someone needs to hear you, see you. Like every child. Like every human."
Alina lowered her head. She whispered quietly:
"I'm still that child..."
Rhea came to her, hugged her. Truly. Warm. With an unexpected tenderness. In that embrace, the frozen pieces of Alina began to thaw. Every tear washed away a love long repressed.
That night, for the first time, Alina felt that she was not alone. And the light that passed through the darkness now had a name: "Rhea."