Moonlight spilled faintly into the dormitory. The children, exhausted from running and playing all day, had fallen into a deep sleep.

  In one of the beds, a child suddenly opened her eyes.

  Her breathing quickened. She pulled her small arms against her chest. Her heart was pounding against her ribs.

  She stared at the ceiling. The room was quiet.

  But the tightness inside her did not fade.

  A faint whimper reached her ears. She looked around carefully. The sound was coming from the new girl who had sat beside her at breakfast that morning.

  She had been happy when the girl chose to sit next to her. Maybe this time she would finally have a real friend.

  The bed was a little too high for her, but she managed to slide down from the edge. She moved slowly through the dark, careful not to bump into the other beds.

  She approached her friend and leaned close.

  “Are you okay? Don’t be scared… I’m here.”Her heart was still racing.

  The girl did not answer.

  The moment she reached out and touched her shoulder, something sharp drove into her chest.

  Her breath stopped halfway.

  Darkness spilled across her vision. The fear rising inside her grew all at once, climbing from her chest to her throat, then to her head.

  She couldn’t bear it.

  She screamed.

  A harsh gasp rose from another bed. One child jerked upright. Then another cried out.

  Then all of them.

  The room filled with panic. The children flailed as if fleeing something unseen; some were crying, some shut their eyes and screamed.

  But the girl who had been dreaming suddenly fell silent.

  Her eyes opened.

  Her breathing slowly steadied.

  She sat upright in her bed, looking around in confusion.

  It was as if the scream had not belonged to her at all.

  The door burst open and the room flooded with light.

  The children fell silent.

  One of the dormitory attendants stepped inside. Her face was tense; it was obvious she had been dragged from sleep.

  “What is going on in here? What is all this noise?”

  There was a brief silence. The children exchanged frightened looks. One of them raised a finger and pointed at the girl who had screamed.

  “?lyara just started screaming for no reason. She scared all of us.”

  The attendant’s expression hardened.

  “You again,” she said. “Can’t you make it through a single night without causing trouble?”

  ?lyara was still trembling. She pressed her hands against her chest; her heart hammered against her ribs. She tried to speak. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

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  Without another word, the attendant sent the children back to their beds, turned off the light, and shut the door behind her with a sharp click.

  The next morning at breakfast, ?lyara sat beside the new girl as soon as she saw her.

  The girl remained quiet at first. When whispers began moving between the tables, her shoulders stiffened. After a moment, she stood and walked to another table without saying anything.

  ?lyara did not move.

  It felt as though something had snapped. She didn’t know what.

  A hard knot sat in the center of her chest.

  She looked down at the bread on her plate. She couldn’t taste it.

  The voices around her sounded distant, as if they belonged to another room.

  She sat there for a long time.

  Then she lowered her head slightly and began to eat.

  From the outside, she looked calm.

  But somewhere inside her, something was still screaming.

  ---

  Zzzrrr… zzzrrr…

  The sharp sound of the alarm pulled ?lyara out of sleep. For a moment she didn’t know where she was; her heart was beating far too fast.

  The same dream.

  Twenty-four years had passed, yet it still caught her in the same place.

  She pushed herself upright with a quiet groan. The day had begun.

  The small veterinary clinic she had opened in the city was a refuge—far from people, but peaceful. Being around animals steadied her. Talking to them, staying silent beside them, simply standing near them… it was enough.

  The farm had called. One of the mares had gone into labor.

  She didn’t go there only for work.

  Being among the horses, feeling the wind against her face, loosening the reins and riding without thinking… those were some of the rare moments when her mind fell quiet.

  Reluctantly, she left the warmth of her bed. She got ready, picked up her bag, and headed out.

  ---

  The birth had taken longer than she expected. By the time she stepped out of the stable, night had already fallen.

  The mare had delivered a healthy foal. That alone was a relief. At least something had gone right.

  When she got into her car, exhaustion settled heavily on her shoulders, but she started the engine anyway.

  The narrow forest road, lined with pine and oak trees, grew darker as she drove. The rain hadn’t started yet—she was lucky. Wet ground on this road could be deadly.

  The farther she moved from the farm, the deeper the shadows became. The trees seemed to lean closer together. Beyond the narrow strip lit by her headlights, nothing was visible. Long shadows stretched across the road, making the night feel heavier.

  Suddenly, a shape burst from the darkness.

  A deer.

  “Damn it…” she muttered, jerking the wheel to the right.

  The car skidded off the dirt road and spun between the trees.

  Crash.

  The vehicle slammed into a trunk and came to a halt. The horn tore through the silence of the forest. Birds exploded into flight; a squirrel darted up a tree and disappeared.

  ?lyara remained still for a moment.

  Then she slowly lifted her head from the steering wheel. A sharp pain throbbed at her temple. When she touched her hair, her fingers came away warm and wet.

  She switched on the interior light and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Blood was seeping from the cut, but it didn’t look deep. She grabbed her first-aid kit and dressed the wound with quick, practiced movements.

  She took a deep breath.

  The engine was still running. She turned it off.

  Pulling on her hooded sweater, she grabbed her phone and stepped outside.

  The car was pressed against the tree. The hood was crumpled; the front bumper cracked. But there was no smell of oil. That was a good sign.

  She looked at her phone.

  No signal.

  “Don’t do this,” she muttered under her breath.

  She turned on the flashlight. A few meters ahead, the road ended abruptly at the edge of a steep drop. The only place she could climb was a slope covered in loose, slick soil.

  She tried once. The earth slid beneath her foot.

  She tried again. Her knees sank into the mud.

  This time she stayed where she was. Her breathing was heavy.

  She couldn’t remain in the car. If no one came looking, no one would find her.

  She lifted her head.

  She would have to walk back to the farm.

  Using the light from her phone, she began moving through the forest. Roots caught around her ankles; pine needles and leaves rustled under each step. An owl called in the distance, and the night settled back into silence.

  As she walked, her shoulders grew heavier. Her pace slowed. Her breath turned to mist in the cold air. The trunks blended together; shadows swallowed the path.

  After a while, she stopped.

  She leaned her back against a tree trunk and lifted her head. Through the leaves, she could see the stars—small, trembling points of light.

  A light wind moved through the branches. Leaves whispered.

  She closed her eyes.

  The silence felt good.

  But she knew it wouldn’t last.