Darkness.
I can't see anything other than darkness. I don't know how I ended up here. I need to get out before this darkness swallows me whole.

Is it really the darkness that wants to swallow me? Or... is it just me? Am I the one who wants to be swallowed by the darkness? Am I able to forget my past? Am I able to forgive myself for what happened in that forest seven years ago? Is that really my fault? Yes. It's your fault. It's the only answer my brain and heart give me whenever I ask myself that question.

That day, I saw the terror on my brother's face. Can I forgive myself for creating this situation? It's not something a eleven-year-old child should witness. But he happened to see that horror. I saw my brother's legs trembling in fear. His eyes were wide, and tears welled up in them. He should've run, but his poor legs didn't cooperate with his mind.

It aches my heart. Still. Every time I see the scar on his right forehead. I don't know when he first noticed me. He tried to console me-for what happened, for what I created, for what I caused. He always tried to console me. I've grown used to his attempts. Am I that obvious? I thought I was subtle about my emotions, but I guess I'm not. I started to ask my brother how he knew something was wrong, how he knew I was struggling inside. I started hiding everything he pointed out: my zoned-out state, teary eyes, trembling hands, and some of my habits.

He's the spitting image of my father. My brother. My father is the most handsome man I've ever seen. Fuck Romeo and Juliet. My parents' love story is my favourite. I saw how my father looks at my mother. To him, my mom is the most beautiful woman in the world. The way he talks to her. The way he holds her hand. The way his arm snakes around her waist. The way they dance together. That was-they were-my entire world. My brother and I always watched their dance while sitting on the couch, as if they were giving us a private show. It was everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever needed.

I've loved them. I've admired them. I've always told my dad that I want a man like him. If he's not like him, I don't want him. My dad just laughed, ruffled my hair, and told me, "Everyone has their own way of showing love. It's just my way. Maybe the man you choose will be a better man than me, because I want everything perfect and better for my sunshine." Then he kissed my forehead. I'm his princess. I'm his sunshine. I'm his second love. I'm his painkiller. It's everything he said to me whenever he saw my face.

But I messed up. Because of my stupid decision, I lost everything. I made my brother lose everything. It was all because of me. Because of my stubbornness and my adamant mind. I wanted to tell my dad, "You're also my sunshine, Dad. The one who always brightens up my world with a single gentle smile. I don't want to be here without you. Just take me with you."

My breath started to grow heavier. I'm trying to catch my breath, but something is stopping my airflow. My lungs are shrinking. I can't breathe. I started to kick the air, wanting to scream. I can't find my voice. My struggles slowly subside. And then...

Silence.
A dead silence.

Am I dead? Finally? Am I going to see my father? My first love? And my mother? The most beautiful woman in the world? The silence and darkness fill the air around me. I see something bright. A light, maybe. I walk toward the light. The closer I get, the brighter it becomes. But it's peaceful. I want to lose myself in this light. I've always wanted the darkness. But how strange it is. I want to lose myself in this peaceful light. Am I allowed to feel serene? Do I deserve to feel peace? The word peace doesn't exist in my vocabulary. I don't deserve this. After what I've done. But my greedy mind wants to know what it feels like. After such a long time, my legs involuntarily move toward the light.

Suddenly... my legs start to shake. My eyes look down at my legs. It's not my legs. It's the surface. It's shaking. Everything around me is shaking. The place is starting to destroy, little by little. The light from afar begins to dim. My mind screams to reach the light, to touch it, to feel it. However, I don't deserve to be happy or feel the serene. The place is destroyed. And I fall. And fall. And fall. I'm falling into the void where I can't find anything-or myself.

"VIV, GET UP. MOVE YOUR STUBBORN ASS OUT OF BED!" Someone yells in my ear.

My eyes snap open, and I scan the surroundings. It's my room. My breath is still heavy, and I try to pull myself together. Finally, my eyes land on a man-or a boy. Blake. Blake Harper. My little brother. The only one I adore so much. So, I didn't die. I'm alive. God, who would want that? But I manage to tug a smile onto my lips.

"Good morning to you too, Blake. Is this how you wake someone up from their sleep?" I ask him.

"I called your name three times, Sister dearest. But you slept like a log. What do you want me to do? You left me with no choice." He tells me with his no-nonsense attitude. My eyes are still locked with his. He turns away from me awkwardly. He can't handle my gaze. He always says that my eyes are like I can see right through people. But it's fully unintentional. I don't want to see anyone's insides. Because I don't even have the courage to face my own inner demons. Then how can I? I'm nothing but a coward.

Blake finally turns back and looks at my face. He notices how sweaty I am right now. "Nightmares? Again?" he asks. I feel the concern in his voice.

"Someone's gone soft," I tease him. My brother has a weakness-he doesn't like to be called soft or weak. He acts like an alpha male. And he is. No doubt about that. He's tough and has the tendency to take care of the people he loves. Well, maybe it's not so much "take care" as it is "protect." Protect the people he loves. Maybe he's affected by that incident more than I know, or more than he ever lets on.

He is the heir of Short Temper. Except, the fact that he looks like my father-he's nothing like him. My dad was a man of softness and tenderness. But my brother... Everyone should use their words wisely when it comes to him. Even he doesn't know what his limits are when he loses his shit. One wrong move, and that's it. The person on the other end should be prepared to go home with a broken nose, or jaw-sometimes hands or legs too. I'm not a saint either. Maybe he inherited this trait from me.

His face turned red. He was embarrassed. "I'm not soft. It's just... whatever. Just come downstairs. Aunty already prepared breakfast," he informed me and stormed out of my room. He still can't handle my teasing. A smile spread across my lips. A genuine one this time.

But it vanished when I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I go back to my usual self. I can't smile. I shouldn't smile. How dare you? You can't be happy after what you've done. You don't deserve to smile or be happy. How could you even look at your face in the mirror? Don't you disgust yourself? You should be the one who died back then instead of your parents. You're nothing but a burden and an extra weight in this world. You're nothing but a coward. A pathetic, useless coward.

These words are always echoing in my head. Whenever I look at my face in the mirror.

I don't have anyone to call mine. No one.

But once, there was someone. Someone I wanted to call mine more than anything.

When I first moved to Russia, lost and completely out of my depth, he was there. My friend. The only one who made the chaos bearable. He was my guide when I couldn't find my way, my translator when I didn't understand a single word of Russian. He took me places, introduced me to people, and gave me a sense of belonging when I had none.

And when the bullies came, when the whispers turned into something crueler, he stood between me and the world. My protector. He made me feel safe, like maybe-just maybe-this place could become something close to home.

But then, he was gone.

No warning. No explanation. Just... gone. Vanished like smoke, leaving me standing in the ruins of what I thought was a bond I could hold on to. Like my parents.

Now? I don't let myself believe in permanence. Everyone in my life feels like a fleeting moment, a brief flicker of happiness before the inevitable goodbye. They're all just waiting for their turn to leave. To walk out of my life without a single word.

And I'm left here. Always. Holding onto memories that were never really mine to keep.

However, I managed to take a bath and change my clothes from my pajamas to a T-shirt and jeans. I've never worn anything but shirts and jeans or T-shirts and jeans. My friends always tease me for that. But the truth is, my brother never allowed me to go to parties or wear minis or dresses. So, I stick with my T-shirts and jeans. It's comfortable, though. I went downstairs. My brother was at the breakfast table with my Uncle Matthew and Aunt Irina.

Matthew is my father's older brother. He took me and my brother in after our parents died. We're just a middle-class family, like any other, whose hands are empty by the end of the month. So, I decided to get a part-time job. I don't want to be a burden, as I already am. He tried so hard to support me and my brother.

It was hard. It is hard. Even now. He is also the reason I put on my "happy face" façade in front of others. I started showing others how happy I am, even though I'm not. Just for the sake of my uncle and my brother. He never hesitates to support us, mentally and financially. The man I respect, second only to my father, is my uncle.

"Good morning, Uncle." I hug him from behind as he sits in his chair, then take my seat.

"You're late. Again. We need to work on that, Chipmunk," he scolds me with empty words but a smile. His scolding never holds any weight-just like my father's.

My aunt, Irina, serves me breakfast. She's a Russian woman. My uncle fell in love with her when he went to Russia on a business trip nine years ago. They were living with us in America after that-well, not exactly with us, but in the same city. Now, though, we're all in Russia. After my parents' death, Aunt Irina and Uncle Matthew decided to bring us here, back to her homeland, Russia. 

She's a beautiful woman who married my uncle despite her family's opposition. He brought her to the States, and they eventually got married. Their story is yet another example that makes me hope I can find someone just as loving someday. She cares deeply for me and my brother. My uncle and aunt don't have children of their own because my aunt has hypoplasia, but they only discovered this after taking us in. Even if they'd had a child, they would have welcomed us with open arms.

"Just five minutes," I say, pretending to be defensive. My uncle is a punctual man, but me? I'm always late. To the breakfast table, to my classes, to outings with my friends-literally everywhere.

"Young lady, if I-" I cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to be better," I say, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.

"I... You... Vivi, you can't do this every time. We talked about this."

I laugh, and Blake chimes in. "Here we go again. Uncle, you need to build immunity to her charms-especially those eyes."

My uncle sighs. Aunt Irina finally speaks up. "Matt, leave the children alone. It's just five minutes. And not while we're eating," she says, cutting off the conversation with her firm voice.

Aunt Irina is always like this: no talking when we eat, unless it's to share something that happened today, a funny story, or an old memory. It's our unwritten rule. No one opposes Aunt Irina when she uses that tone. Breakfast finishes in comfortable silence, with Blake, as usual, pulling pranks and making funny noises. Aunt Irina adores him, which boosts his ego and makes him act this way. Sometimes, he's the only one allowed to speak while we eat.

We all say our goodbyes to Aunt Irina and get into Uncle Matthew's car. He has a habit of dropping Blake and me off at our university. I'm a data science student, working on my master's degree. My brother is studying at the same university, but he chose psychology. He made some excuse about "wanting to find his true self," but I know the real reason. He knows I'm still struggling with memories from the past, memories that still haunt me, even though he never mentions them or asks about it.

Unlike me, Blake is a popular student on campus. He's known for his good looks-thanks to our father's genes-and his unpredictable nature. Girls drool over him, and some even approach me to get his number or ask me to set up a date with him. I refuse. Every time. 

He's also a gym rat. He has a strong, muscular build that matches his intense personality. Or maybe he built his body to manage that unpredictable energy of his. He's the one who often starts fights, even when it's his fault. Maybe he realized he couldn't control his tendencies, which is why he hits the gym so much, even when he's sick.

The car stops in front of the campus gate. "Behave, Blake," Uncle Matthew says to him. He's made a habit of saying this every morning, knowing it won't make much difference.

"Yeah, yeah." Blake rolls his eyes, looking tired of the same old line, and gets out of the car. I follow him, and we both bid farewell to our uncle before walking onto campus.

At our university, there are separate buildings for each department: Law, Medicine, Business, Tech, Arts, Science. A lot of students here come from wealthy families. Then there's us-here on scholarships. But unlike other schools or universities, none of that matters here. We're all treated the same. Only our grades speak louder than money.

Blake and I walk in silence through campus. It's a bit awkward, though I'm not sure why, and I don't make an effort to break it. I suddenly hear a "vroom" sound. I glance at Blake, but he's just walking beside me as usual. Hallucination maybe? Am I going crazy? Just as I'm thinking that, there's a loud engine rev, and a Lamborghini races onto campus at full speed. Everyone knows who they are.

The so-called Mafia princes-Zinoviy and Zoran. Identical twins. They're PhD students in business, and everyone knows they are bad news. My brother always warns me about them: not to get involved with them, not to look at them, and not even to go the same way they're heading. 

Rumor has it they're involved in their family's business, the Black Serpent-the name of an infamous mafia gang in Russia. I've heard about the Black Serpent; they're ruthless, merciless, killing people like mere flies. I don't know much about the gang's leader other than his name. If I ever try asking Blake, he just glares at me, which is enough to make me drop the subject.

Their car stops on the grass, not even in the parking lot. These guys drove all the way up here, past the actual parking area. They get out of their car and tell a student to park it for them. They're both dressed in black jeans, black T-shirts, and black leather jackets. It's hard to tell them apart since they're identical twins. Both have visible tattoos on their necks and forearms. The moment they step out, girls throw themselves at them-nothing but fangirls or fame-seekers. It's true; they'd get all the attention they want by being seen with Zinoviy and Zoran. But the twins never take anyone seriously; girls are just a one-time thing to them.

Then another car drives up-a Mercedes-Benz. A girl gets out. Elena. She's a quiet girl and the twins' younger sister, in the same class as my brother. Quiet but popular. No one-literally no one-dares to approach her because of her brothers. Anyone who's brave enough to try would be lucky to survive the day. She silently heads to her class, unlike her brothers.

Blake walks me to my class door and then heads to his. For my safety, for god's sake. I can't even breathe casually; it always feels like he's watching over my shoulder. His department is in the block opposite mine, so every day, he walks me to my class and then hurries off to his. I appreciate his protectiveness, but sometimes, it's suffocating.

I walk into my class and take my seat. A voice comes from behind me.

"You bitch, you betrayed us last night!" Sasha yells at me. It's true-I did betray them. I'd promised my friends I'd go to the party with them, but I ditched them.

"At least you could've informed us, Vi," Alexei says to me in his usual calm tone. I've never seen him get angry. 

Sasha, on the other hand, is always hyper. She's loud, can't sit still, talks non-stop, and gets angry at the smallest things. I have a short temper too, but I can hold back when it's unnecessary. Sasha, though, always speaks her mind and acts like she owns the world. She even had a crush on Zoran, but he blatantly rejected her without even glancing her way. From that moment, she started the "Zoran Haters Club," which Alexei and I were forced to join. It's just the three of us, and we have a group chat for the club.

"Sorry, guys. Blake didn't allow it, as usual," I say with a resigned sigh. A smooth lie.

Sasha goes ballistic. "You need to stop acting like Blake's puppet, Vivi. I get that he's your brother, but I can't accept him controlling you."

"I know, I know. But what am I supposed to do when he says it's all for my safety?"

"He's got his own insecurities, girl. You need to stop this before he takes full control of your life."

"I'll talk to him," I tell Sasha.

Alexei, as usual, sits silently and watches her argue with me, a soft smile on his face. His gentle smile and tender nature remind me of my father. Then the professor walks in, and the class begins. Sasha reluctantly goes to her seat.

The day goes just fine, until I hear that Blake is fighting with someone. I immediately get up from my seat and run to where they're fighting, with Sasha and Alexei following me. I keep running and accidentally bump into someone. I don't even look at their face or bother to say sorry; I just keep running. Blake and this other guy are fighting in the middle of the playground.

A crowd of students surrounds them, watching them punch each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Zoran. He's standing there, smiling and cheering for the fight. I shove people aside, muttering "Excuse me," and "Move, please," until I finally get to the front. My eyes widen. It's my brother and Zinoviy, both punching and kicking each other, both covered in blood and bruises.

"BLAKE!" I shout, but he's too far gone to hear me. "BLAKE, STOP IT!" I yell again.

That motherfucker Zoran smirks at me, not even pretending to care. He just stands there, watching like he's enjoying a show. Sasha and Alexei finally reach me and stand by my side. Zinoviy has Blake's arm twisted behind his back, pounding his side with brutal punches that are definitely going to leave bruises-maybe even break a few ribs.

"ZINOVIY, STOP. PLEASE!" I shout again. Heads turn to look at me, but those two idiots in the middle don't even flinch. Alexei takes a step forward, but Sasha grabs his arm, stopping him. Everyone knows better than to get between a fight with the so-called mafia princes-or Blake, for that matter. Unless they want to get dragged into this mess too.

My eyes shift back to Zoran. My legs carry me toward him in desperation. "Zoran, please, tell him to stop. Please," I practically beg. It's not like me at all, but I'm doing it anyway. Blake head-butts Zinoviy, breaking free and swinging wildly, landing punches like a madman.

Zoran grins, completely unfazed. "Hey there, beautiful. Never seen you around campus before. What department are you in?" he asks smoothly, as if he's casually flirting instead of watching his brother pummel mine.

"Zoran, stop your brother. Please," I plead, trying to keep my voice steady.

"He's having fun. Who am I to stop him?" he replies in that infuriatingly calm voice. "By the way, who's that boy fighting my brother? What's he to you?" His voice is so casual, so calm, like he's chatting over coffee rather than in the middle of a violent scene.

"My brother. Zoran, he's my brother. I'll tell you whatever you want, answer any question. Just stop this," I beg again, hating the words as they leave my mouth.

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "And how do I know You'll answer my questions? How can I trust you?" he asks, that ugly smirk twisting his face. That's when it hits me: this bastard has been toying with me the whole time. Of course he has. What did I expect from a guy raised by the mafia?

I turn on my heel, deciding not to waste any more time on this asshole, and stride toward Blake and Zinoviy. But just as I reach them, a strong hand grabs my arm and yanks me back effortlessly.

"Where do you think you're going, beautiful?" Zoran grabs my arm tightly, his grip bruising, but I refuse to show any discomfort. "You didn't answer my question. I'll ask again. What will I get if I stop them?" His eyes darken, their usual charm and light replaced with a chilling coldness. I try to pull my arm free, but a chill runs down my spine. I've never felt this before. No-I've survived this feeling once, in that forest seven years ago. My legs start trembling, and my body shivers as memories crash over me like waves on a battered shore.

Blake notices my state and starts toward me, but Zinoviy grabs him, landing another brutal hit. I choke back a gasp, nausea rising as my vision begins to darken.

Suddenly, someone grabs Zoran's hand and forces him to release me. Just as my knees are about to give out, a strong arm wraps around my waist, steadying me. I feel his touch burn against my skin, a strange heat tingling where his hand holds me firm. I can't see his face clearly, but his grip keeps me grounded.

"Zinoviy." The voice is commanding, a low growl that stills everything around us. Zinoviy freezes, releasing Blake, who stumbles back but doesn't move further. The stranger's voice and presence halt everything-everyone. As my vision clears, I see his face, then catch the look on Zoran and Zinoviy's faces. They've gone pale.

"What the fuck is going on here?" the man's commanding, growling voice freezes everyone in place. "I've told you two a thousand times not to touch civilians," he snarls, his words sharp and unforgiving.

"But he-" Zinoviy tries to explain, but the man's fierce glare cuts him off instantly.

Then his gaze shifts to me. "You owe me something, don't you?" His icy blue eyes lock onto mine, freezing me in place.