On the coldest night of winter, a woman, clad in rags, stood atop the tallest building in Siyah City, one of the largest cities in The A country.
She appeared ethereal yet simultaneously resembled a shattered piece of porcelain.
Her foggy red eyes, clouded with unshed tears and deep sorrow, surveyed the bustling street below.
The vibrant scene unfolded beneath her: as many parents were strolling leisurely with their children, their faces alight with joy and pride, celebrating their successes .
A cold, shuddering sigh escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to narrate the desolation of her soul.
She closed her eyes. Memories of her most horrific days flooded her mind, causing her body to tremble as unbelievable scenes replayed.
A harsh, stinging slap landed squarely on Sahira's face, the impact echoing in her memory.
The man, his face contorted with rage and contempt, hissed through clenched teeth, "You slut, what did you just say? You're going to leave me? Look at yourself, what have you become? Where did you acquire this arrogance? You failed your university entrance exam, and the entire city is mocking you.
And now you decide to break up with me?"
His grip was brutal as he forcibly dragged Sahira by her hair across the grimy floor to a cracked and tarnished mirror, lifting her body with cruel strength to confront her own distorted reflection.
Sahira zayden observed her face, now a canvas of purplish bruises and angry red marks, her once clear and unblemished skin marred beyond recognition.
The man then slammed Sahira again with a sickening force, an impact so severe it felt as though it could potentially break her jaw.
He then gripped Sahira's jaw with an iron vice, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Sahira cried out, pleading with him to release her, but her voice was inaudible, the torrent of her pain, sounding like a distorted and broken recording.
The man, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips, derived perverse pleasure and satisfaction from witnessing her utterly pathetic and utterly state.
Sahira looked at the man, her heart filled with nothing but disgust ,
a stark contrast to the deep love she had once harbored for him.
Sahira opened her eyes, but no tears fell. Instead, her eyes were so red it seemed as though blood might trickle down, staining the very spot where tears should have been.
She lifted her gaze to the sky. The stars twinkled faintly above, yet to Sahira they no longer shone — they mocked her, tiny cold eyes watching her disgrace.
She felt herself shrinking beneath their silent judgment, her existence as pitiful as the shadows clinging to the rooftop.
"Death," she whispered, her voice trembling, "when you come… bring peace with you. Send me to my mother — the only human who ever loved me. Please… take me to the woman who sacrificed everything for me."
Her hand rose on its own and struck her cheek, a hollow sound in the night. Warm tears slipped down her face, streaking through the thin trails of blood. In that moment, Sahira began murmuring to Death itself, recounting the story of her mother's sacrifices, as though the wind might carry it to the other side. She remembered how her mother had sacrificed her own body and dignity to protect her — and how, in return, Sahira had only offered contempt.
She remembered the day she'd overturned the table her mother had spent hours preparing, food scattering like shattered promises across the floor. Shame pressed heavy on her chest.
Every disaster she had endured, every cruel hand that struck her, every wound — she saw it now as the fruit of her own betrayal. She had destroyed the only sanctuary that had sheltered her from the world, the only place she could call home.
Sahira cried out in agony, "Why, God, why must it be me? When destiny promised a future of gold, why must I lose everythig.
Slowly, a deafening silence began to consume the rooftop, pressing down on Sahira like a living weight. The usual hum of Siyah City — the chatter of families, the distant honk of vehicles, the laughter of children — all faded into nothingness, swallowed by an eerie stillness. Above her, thick black clouds gathered, twisting and coiling like dark smoke, blotting out the faint glow of the city lights. Shadows stretched across the streets below, as if the city itself recoiled in fear.
From somewhere above, the cawing of crows shattered the quiet, each harsh, defiant cry slicing through the night air. Their wings flapped violently, a chaotic dance that stirred the wind into a biting chill. The cries echoed off the buildings, bouncing through the empty alleys, making the few late-night wanderers tremble and pull their coats tighter. Sahira felt her own heart mirror the chaos, a drumbeat of dread echoing through her chest.
The clouds swirled faster now, heavy and oppressive, casting the city in a veil of shadow. It felt as though the darkness itself was aware of her presence, converging above her head with silent intent. Every instinct screamed at her, warning her that something was coming — something that even the stars, now barely visible, could not hide. And in that stillness, in that blackened sky, Sahira felt the cold, unyielding weight of fate pressing down, as if Death itself had taken notice.
Sahira revealed two blood-stained shards of broken glass, each glinting faintly under the pale sky silent testaments to the horrors she had endured. Her hands trembled as she held them close, as though they carried the weight of every wound she had ever suffered.
Without a word, and with a desperation that defied reason, she raised the shards to her face. In one swift, merciless motion, she drove them into her own eyes. A wet, muffled crack echoed in the cold air as her world went black. Thick, dark blood poured from her ruined sockets, streaking down her bruised cheeks and mingling with the tears that had once marked her sorrow.
Above her, a flock of crows exploded into the sky, their harsh, deafening cries tearing through the silence like a warning from some unseen god.
With shaking fingers, Sahira reached into her clothes and pulled out a knife. Unlike the blood-slick shards, the blade was cold and clean, gleaming faintly even though she could no longer see it. She gripped it tightly,the steel biting into her palm as the winter wind lashed across her ravaged face.
Blind now, she lifted her wrist. Her body quivered, not just from the pain but from the cold that cut to her bones. Summoning the last of her strength, she pressed the blade to her skin. A thin red line blossomed instantly, a deliberate wound so fine it
parted her flesh and revealed the trembling veins beneath.
Her voice was no more than a whisper carried off by the wind.
"Death... reunite me with my mother. I don't care if it's heaven or hell. Take me to eternal peace. Take me to you, Death."
The crows screamed again, circling above like shadows, as her blood dripped steadily to the rooftop below a final offering to the silence she longed for.