♣︎ A Scream Between Crystal and Blood ♣︎
The rain was gently falling against the windowpane, and the pale morning light seeped in through the half-drawn curtains. Silence filled the apartment, but it wasn't a heavy silence... it was warm, as if this stillness was the last pure thing left in the world.
I slowly sat up on my bed, then stood for a moment, watching the raindrops slide down the glass. The sky was gray, and the street below looked completely empty. No cars, no noise. Just calm, blending with the sound of the sky.
I entered the small kitchen and pulled the coffee tin from the top shelf. I don't know why I love this weather—or why it loves me. Maybe because it's the only constant thing in the chaos of my days. I left the water to boil and sat on the small wooden chair by the window. I rested my cheek on my hand and stared at the gray sky.
Yesterday was different.
I closed my eyes, and his image appeared in my mind without permission:
Aren.
His height, those icy blue eyes, his silence, his presence... it was as if the air itself changed when he entered.
Why did he affect me like that? He didn't do anything notable. He didn't even look at me. And yet, I felt like he stirred something inside me... something I don't know how to describe—and can't ignore.
I took a sip of coffee, but it tasted bland this morning. Everything around me was still, but I could feel something stirring inside. No voices, no strange signs, no warnings. Just... an inner feeling that I was about to step into a world unknown to me.
I looked at my phone. No messages.
Zoe had messaged last night saying she arrived at her parents' house and would check in later.
Everything seemed normal. But my heart... wasn't calm.
I stood to get ready for university, but paused in front of the mirror by the door.
I stared at my reflection for a moment in silence.
What is this feeling? Can a single glance from a stranger change something inside us?
I forced myself to smile, grabbed my bag, and stepped into a gray morning that promised nothing... and warned of nothing. Yet, it wasn't an ordinary morning.
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The ground was wet under my steps as I walked through the university corridors. The rain had stopped, but the air remained cold, filled with the scent of wet earth mixed with the aroma of coffee drifting from one of the kiosks.
I passed groups of students—some laughing, others complaining about exams, and some still talking about yesterday's game.
I caught a repeated phrase around me:
— "Did you see the new guy? He's amazing."
— "His eyes... I couldn't stop looking at them."
I didn't want to listen, but the whispers were growing louder and closer.
I entered the lecture building, climbed the stairs to the first hall, and sat in my usual seat by the window. I pulled out my notebook and pen without thinking.
The lecture began. The professor's voice filled the hall. I tried to concentrate, but my thoughts refused to quiet down.
Every time the back door opened, I looked up instinctively... as if I were waiting for someone, without knowing who.
And ten minutes later...
The door opened.
A group of students walked in. Among them were two tall young men who caught everyone's attention from the first step.
One of them was smiling, chatting with the girl beside him. The other... said nothing. He entered in complete silence, avoiding everyone with a cold gaze.
They were Raine and Aren.
I felt the air change.
Yes, this wasn't the first time I'd seen them—but it was the first time I felt this weight on my chest, as if their presence made the very space heavier.
Raine sat in the front row, leaning on his hand like everything was just a game to him.
But Aren... sat in the very back. He didn't look at anyone. Didn't take anything from his bag. He simply... sat.
But it wasn't just sitting. His presence felt like even silence itself obeyed him.
I quickly lowered my gaze to my notebook.
I didn't know why I felt this sudden shift in the atmosphere.
I tried to focus on the professor's explanation, but his voice began to fade.
My thoughts grew louder than anything else.
Something was changing...
And I could no longer pretend that everything was fine.
I left the hall, heading toward the cafeteria. I wasn't hungry, but I needed some air... and maybe another cup of coffee to calm the strange chill still clinging to me.
The rain had just stopped, but the scent of wet earth lingered in the wide hallways, and the cold air gently brushed my face as I walked.
A familiar voice called from behind:
— "Finally caught up with you!"
I turned immediately to see Zoe approaching with confident steps. She was holding her phone in one hand, her bag swinging effortlessly from her shoulder.
She smiled as she said:
— "I thought you were still in the lecture hall."
I answered in a calm tone:
— "I was, but I left early. I needed to breathe something other than the crowd of heads."
We walked together through the quiet corridors, wrapped in soft gray light.
She said:
— "Do you want something warm? Coffee might help with this weird mood."
I nodded and smiled:
— "Yes... I really need it."
We entered the cafeteria. It had started to quiet down. We chose a table by the window overlooking the empty courtyard, where only the faint patter of leftover raindrops could be heard tapping against the corners of the glass.
We sat in a comfortable silence, as if both of us were waiting for the other to say the unspoken.
After a moment, Zoe said:
— "I still can't stop thinking about yesterday's game... about that guy—his way of playing, his look, and his eyes... his eyes were so cold."
I didn't lift my gaze from my cup. I simply murmured:
— "Yes... I noticed him too. But what I felt wasn't just curiosity... it was a mix of tension and confusion... something I couldn't explain."
She raised an eyebrow and said:
— "That kind of mystery sparks my curiosity. As if they're hiding something behind them... something unspoken."
I whispered, almost to myself:
— "It's like everything changed the moment they entered the university."
She leaned back a little, then said seriously:
— "If they turned out to be mafia men or spies, I wouldn't be surprised."
I laughed, but something inside me didn't laugh. There was a worry I couldn't shake.
The cafeteria door opened gently.
I instinctively looked up.
A tall, strikingly handsome young man walked in, a provocative smile curling at his lips.
It was Raine.
I looked at him without moving, noticing several girls' eyes following him as he walked confidently across the room.
But suddenly... he changed direction and walked toward our table.
I stopped breathing for a moment, my brows furrowed in confusion.
What was he doing? We didn't know him. Why was he coming to us?
He stopped in front of us, his face tilted slightly toward Zoe, his gaze fixed—amused, deliberate.
As if he had chosen us at random... or for a reason we didn't know.
He spoke in a low voice:
— "There you are... the ones who stole all the glances, and the friend who made the place shine brighter. Mind if I ruin your peace with my words?"
Zoe raised an eyebrow and laughed mockingly:
— "If your words are as empty as your intentions, I think our peace is perfectly safe."
His eyes gleamed as he took a step back, his smile widening in amusement:
— "I like sharpness... much more fun than boring flattery."
I watched him in silence. I didn't respond. But his presence... was different. Heavy. Unlike anyone else.
He looked at both of us and said, his tone shifting:
— "Don't think what you see is all there is... There are worlds you don't see, secrets untold, and games that aren't played in the light."
Then he turned slowly and walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked back at me and said:
— "Be careful... curiosity can lead you to places you can't return from."
Then he left.
I sat there staring into space. I didn't say anything. Zoe didn't either. She looked at me, then down at her cup, as if reading my thoughts without a word.
Suddenly, she said in a calm tone:
— "Tonight, you're coming with me to a dance party at my father's mansion. All his wealthy friends will be there."
I slowly raised my eyes to her and murmured with hesitation:
— "You know I can't stand parties... I don't like crowds, loud music, or fake faces."
She fell silent for a moment, then leaned in with a soft smile:
— "But you love food. And I promise the tables will be filled with dishes from every culture."
I sighed slowly and said in a tone of reluctant surrender:
— "I'll go... just for the food."
She laughed and said as she stood:
— "Food is your weakness."
I looked out the window behind her. The clouds were gathering, and the raindrops had returned—soft and gentle... as if the night was preparing to speak.
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As evening approached, I returned to my apartment after a long day of lectures. The sun had begun to set, leaving behind golden streaks flowing across the damp ground like a soft veil of light.
I stood in front of my wardrobe, staring at the scattered dresses, unable to decide. I didn't even want to go to this party—how was I supposed to choose what to wear to it?
I muttered to myself:
— "Why do I keep agreeing to things that don't feel like me?"
I exhaled slowly, as if surrendering to the inevitable.
The doorbell rang.
I opened it to find Zoe standing there in full elegance—wearing a long black gown that touched the floor, tight at the top and flowing at the bottom like waves rippling around her legs.
She smiled as she scanned me from head to toe:
— "Still stuck in denial? We have less than an hour. The guests are already on their way."
I shrugged and smiled faintly:
— "I just don't want to look like I was dragged to a party that doesn't belong to me."
Zoe walked in without asking, opened my closet, and began rummaging through the dresses until she pulled out a deep burgundy one—simple, elegant, not flashy, but perfect for the occasion.
She said confidently:
— "This one. It suits you perfectly... mysterious, quiet, soft on the outside, and no one knows what's inside."
I took the dress from her and chuckled softly:
— "Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself."
She replied with a sly smile:
— "Because you're an open book... to anyone who knows how to read."
Time passed as I added the final touches—styling my hair simply, spraying my favorite perfume, the one that always made me feel at ease.
By the time we got into the car, night had already fallen.
The sky was starless, and the air carried a slight chill.
The city lights shimmered, as if hiding a thousand secrets.
I turned to Zoe suddenly and said:
— "I feel like I'm going to regret this."
She laughed with confidence and answered:
— "Sometimes, regret is the first step toward something that changes everything."
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The car stopped in front of a luxurious mansion on the outskirts of the city. It rose behind a black iron gate adorned with golden engravings that sparkled under the light of the lamps.
Zoe pulled up in front of the guard, who didn't need any words. He knew her well—and knew her family name better than his own. He opened the gate with a slight bow, and we entered quietly.
We stopped at the grand entrance, where a red carpet stretched out like a silent declaration that every detail of this night was meticulously arranged... even the lies.
I stepped out of the car hesitantly. The burgundy dress gave me an elegant appearance, but my eyes were searching for an exit, not an entrance.
Zoe, on the other hand, walked with confidence, her head high—as if she belonged to this world without a shred of doubt.
We were welcomed by a man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a dark suit and a luxurious tie, with a forced smile that barely concealed its insincerity.
We entered.
Classical music played in the background—not to be heard, but to be flaunted.
Massive crystal chandeliers sparkled like arrogant stars, and the glossy floor reflected the footsteps of the guests.
Businessmen laughed empty laughs, and women exchanged cold compliments.
The tables overflowed with food—international cuisine, desserts arranged like paintings, and tall glasses crowned with delicate foam.
I whispered to Zoe as I scanned the place:
— "This atmosphere is suffocating... These people talk as if they're performing a play."
She replied calmly, without looking at me:
— "Because they are."
As I continued observing from afar, a strange feeling crept over me... like someone was watching me.
I didn't know where it came from, but I could feel it.
I looked around... I didn't see anyone. Just a sensation slipping through the lights and the music.
A man in his thirties approached, speaking with a forced charm:
— "You're new here, aren't you?"
I hesitated, then replied coldly:
— "Just a guest."
He seemed eager to continue talking, but Zoe stepped in quickly, grabbed me by the arm, and said:
— "Come on... I'll show you something more exciting than the dull talk of businessmen."
We walked toward the back garden, where it was quieter—but darker.
The trees surrounded us like walls whispering in the dark.
Zoe took a breath of the cold air and said:
— "Sometimes I think the best thing about these parties... is the garden. Everything else is fake."
Before I could respond, we heard slow, steady footsteps approaching.
We turned at the same time.
A man emerged from the shadows... tall, wearing a black suit, his features barely visible—except for a faint gleam in his blue eyes.
He stood nearby, saying nothing. Just... looking.
I froze in place.
That same feeling from this morning... came rushing back, stronger.
The silence in the garden didn't last. The man stepped forward with confident strides, as if the ground cleared the way for him.
His blue eyes held no greeting—only deep coldness and mystery.
He paused... then turned and walked away in complete silence.
I looked at Zoe and found her staring at him too. She muttered as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear:
— "What an arrogant man."
We returned to the ballroom. Nothing had changed: the music, the lights, the rehearsed compliments.
As we approached the center of the room, a familiar voice called out:
— "Zoe!"
It was her father, a man in his late fifties, wearing a luxurious gray suit—elegant without exaggeration.
He stood beside another man who radiated power—his silver hair carefully combed, his gaze sharp, his suit as dark as the night.
Zoe's father smiled proudly:
— "Come, I want to introduce you to one of my dearest friends."
Zoe stepped forward confidently, and I followed silently.
He pointed to the imposing man:
— "This is Mr. Andrea Ferrari, from one of the oldest and most powerful families in Italy. He owns one of the world's most famous companies."
Then he turned to us:
— "This is my daughter Zoe... and her close friend Layan, who is like family."
Mr. Ferrari gave a small, refined smile and bowed slightly.
Standing beside him was a young man about our age—tall, broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes...
The same eyes I'd seen in the garden.
It was him... Aren.
He showed no reaction. He merely glanced at us briefly, then turned his face away, as if no one stood before him.
Next to him was another young man, surrounded by laughing girls. He winked at one, exchanged glances with another.
Handsome, with silver hair and a playful smirk on his lips.
Mr. Ferrari stepped closer and said with a smile:
— "This is my grandson, Aren."
Then he gestured to the other:
— "And that's the grandson of a close friend of mine, Raine."
My body trembled slightly... as if the air had shifted suddenly.
Zoe crossed her arms and said, staring at Raine:
— "I think we've seen them before... at our university."
Both fathers laughed, and one said:
— "That should make getting along easier. We hope you'll all get along well."
Zoe didn't reply. She leaned in and whispered coldly:
— "That's not going to happen."
I smiled at her comment, but my eyes didn't leave Aren.
I watched him silently as he vanished into the crowd... as if the earth swallowed him with every step.
At that moment, the fathers got busy greeting more guests, leaving Zoe and me in the heart of the party.
We didn't say a word.
But something invisible... had just begun.
A silence like the calm before a storm.
I sat at the edge of the long table, holding a delicate glass, while Zoe watched me move between the dishes like a child discovering a new world.
I couldn't hide my fascination with the food—my eyes sparkled every time I tasted a new flavor.
Zoe chuckled lightly and said:
— "I didn't know you had a secret appetite, Layan... I think the chefs will feel threatened if you keep going like this!"
My face flushed, and I wiped my mouth with a silk napkin before murmuring with a smile:
— "I just... can't resist food. You know I'm obsessed with it."
We kept talking while the soft music began to rise slightly.
Lights scattered between the champagne glasses and fake laughter.
The air filled with the scent of luxurious perfumes and heavy food... everything seemed normal.
Until that moment.
Suddenly—
A violent crash shook the floor beneath us.
The chatter froze. Even time itself seemed to stop.
I turned first, then Zoe... and our eyes widened in horror, as if witnessing a living nightmare.
There was a body lying next to us.
A middle-aged man, wearing a formal suit... or what was left of it.
He was headless.
Worse... his insides were grotesquely spilled out across the floor, hanging from his chest as if violently torn out.
Blood splattered everywhere—soaked the floor, stained our clothes... even my face.
I felt the sticky warmth of it dripping down my left cheek.
I gasped sharply—then let out a scream that shattered the silence of the hall.
Zoe—who rarely lost her composure—stumbled back two steps, placing her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.
The party descended into complete chaos.
Guests screamed and ran in every direction.
Women fainted.
Men shouted questions with no answers:
Who?
How?
When did he fall?
No one had seen anything.
Security began clearing the hall.
One shouted:
— "Don't touch the body!"
Another yelled:
— "Who is this man?! How did he get in? Was he one of the guests?!"
But no one had an answer.
I stood frozen in place, my face pale, my hands trembling, my eyes fixed on the body... on the empty space where the head should have been.
Zoe rushed to me, shouting:
— "Layan! Layan, snap out of it!"
She shook me hard, pulling me away from the corpse.
But amid the chaos, we didn't notice those blue eyes watching us from afar...
Unblinking.
Still.
In the middle of the horror.
Aren stood at one corner of the hall, unmoving.
His face showed no reaction.
As if... he had expected this.
To be continued...
🌙 Chapter 3 is done... but the mystery is only just beginning.
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Stay curious... things are about to shift 👁️✨