The Scar on My Wrist

Alara’s POV

Leyla pulled me into the house and up the stairs, her grip on my wrist never loosening for even a second. She dragged me into my bedroom and pushed me inside. I stumbled and fell onto the floor. When I looked up, she was locking the door behind her.

“You will stay here until it is time,” she said, standing between me and the only exit. “Do not try to break the window. The glass is too thick. Do not try to hide. We know every corner of this room.”

“Why?” I asked, scrambling backward until my back hit the bed. “Why are you doing this? I never did anything to you!”

Leyla walked slowly toward me. She looked down at me, not with anger, but with something worse; pity, cold, cruel pity. “It is not personal, Alara. It is necessary. There are debts that must be paid. And you… you are the payment.”

“Debts?” I said. “What debts?”

“Debts from before you were born,” she said. “A war that started long before you took your first breath. Your father and I… we are just finishing what was started a long time ago.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, sharp knife. I gasped and pulled my knees to my chest. But she didn’t come closer. She just held it up to the light, turning it slowly in her fingers.

“Do you remember the scar on your left wrist?” she asked suddenly.

I looked down at my wrist. The faint silvery line ran from my palm halfway to my elbow. I had it for as long as I could remember. They told me I fell on glass when I was little. They told me to never speak of it. To never show it.

“They told me it was an accident,” I said, my voice trembling.

Leyla laughed, a soft, bitter sound. “An accident? Yes. That’s what we told you. But it wasn’t an accident, Alara. It was a test.”

“A test?” I whispered.

“Your blood is special,” she said. “Very rare. Very… valuable. That cut was to make sure. To make sure you were the one we thought you were. And you were. Perfect. Exactly what we needed.”

I stared at her, horrified. “You cut me. When I was a baby… you cut me to test my blood?”

“For the greater good,” she said. “Everything we have done, every step, has been for a reason. And tonight, all those years of waiting will finally pay off.”

She put the knife away and walked to the door. “Rest now, Alara. Try to sleep. You have a long night ahead of you.”

“Leyla, please,” I said, my voice breaking. “Don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave. I’ll never come back. Just let me go.”

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She looked at me one last time, and for a second I thought I saw a flicker of real sadness in her eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

“I cannot let you go,” she said quietly. “If I did… then everything, all the lies, all the blood, all the years of waiting, would have been for nothing. And I cannot bear that.”

She stepped out and locked the door. I heard her footsteps fade away down the hall.

I was alone. Truly alone. The people I trusted most in the world, my father, my aunt, were the ones planning my death. Kemal was gone. Elif was somewhere in the house, and I didn’t know if she was safe or if she was part of it too.

I crawled onto my bed and pulled the covers up around me, but they couldn’t stop the shaking. I looked at my wrist, at the silvery scar that marked me as property, as a test subject, as a sacrifice. I touched it gently. It didn’t hurt anymore. But knowing how it got there hurt worse than any physical pain ever could.

Hours passed. The sun went down completely. The room grew dark. I sat by the window, watching the sky turn black, counting the minutes until midnight. Every tick of the clock sounded like a heartbeat, slow, steady, and counting down to my death.

And then, from somewhere far below, I heard it. The sound of cars pulling up to the front gate. Then voices, loud, angry voices. Then, a sound that made my heart stop beating.

Gunshots. Sharp, loud, and close.

Someone had come. And I knew, with a terrible, sinking certainty, that the monster they were waiting for had finally arrived.

There came a loud noise of guns banged through the house, breaking the quiet bedroom. Downstairs, everything turned into a messy nightmare. Wood cracked, glass smashed, and men screamed angry words at each other.

I jumped off my bed, my heart beating fast like a trapped bird. My legs felt soft like water, but I forced myself to crawl behind the big wooden wardrobe. I wrapped my arms around my legs, trying to make myself tiny. Sweat ran down my face, and my chest hurt every time I pulled air in.

He was here.

Kaan Demirhan, the bad man my father had always talked about. The monster they planned to catch using me as bait, the man who was supposed to end my life before my father set the whole house on fire.

A heavy bang hit the door. Someone crashed against it, followed by a dark, wet groan. Then, everything went completely quiet.

I stopped breathing. I slapped both hands over my mouth so I wouldn't make a sound. Dark red blood slowly slid under the locked door, spreading across the floor. Click.

The door unlocked.

It opened with a long, creepy creak.

A tall man stepped into the room. He wore a dark coat covered in fresh red spots. In his hand, he held a heavy silver gun, and smoke was still coming out of the tip.

He didn't run. He walked slowly, like a big cat hunting. His dark eyes swept across the dark corners until they landed right on me.

A cold shudder ran down my back. I couldn't move. I could only cry quietly while touching the silver scar on my wrist.

"Alara Vardar," he said. His voice was deep and terrifyingly soft.

He took three steps forward and stopped right above me. He bent down so his face was close to mine. He smelled like smoke and copper.

"Look at me," he said.

I raised my head, my chin shaking.

"They told you I was the monster, didn't they?" Kaan asked, his lips curving into a small, dark smile. "They told you I came here to hurt you."

"Please..." I shivered, tears falling fast. "Please don't hurt me..."

Kaan reached out. His gloved hand was surprisingly gentle as he grabbed my wrist, turning my skin toward the light. He stared at the silver line on my arm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, running his thumb over the mark. "I came to get back what was stolen from me."

Before I could ask what he meant, a loud, crazy laugh sounded from the hallway.

My father stood at the door. His suit was messy, and he had a wicked smile. In his hand, he held a black remote control. Aunt Leyla stood right behind him, glaring at us.

"You fell for it, Kaan!" my father laughed. "You actually came for her!"

Kaan stood up slowly, putting himself between me and my father. "You used your own daughter as bait, Hakan. You are weak."

"The good thing is that you fell for the trap, dummy!" my father shouted, pointing the remote at us. "And now, both of you are trapped!"

My heart dropped. Leyla’s words echoed in my head, we burn the house... kill them both.

My father pressed the red button.

High up on the ceiling, a loud beep... beep... beep... started ringing. Red lights flashed all around us. Heavy metal doors slammed down over the windows, locking us inside.

"Ten seconds!" my father cheered as he ran away.

The timer on the wall flashed: 00:07... 00:06…

I looked at Kaan, terrified. But Kaan didn't look scared at all. He didn't even try to run to the door. Instead, he pulled a small key from his pocket, opened his coat, and revealed a heavy iron lock fastened around his own chest.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes wide with a strange, scary excitement.

"Don't worry, Alara," Kaan whispered with a cold smile that sent chills down my spine. 

"Your father didn't trap me here with you. I trapped you here with me.”

I looked around with fear “we are trapped here and will be burnt down with this house” I said shaking.