A private high school with dark school walls, long and winding corridors resembling a labyrinth, and countless classroom doors.
It is a place where the reputation of rich children is protected, where they are admired the most, where they are given the most rights.
It is possible to catch random traces of their wealth even in their grades or exam scores.
I always found it difficult to describe their situation.
There are girls who are richer, more beautiful, and more handsome than those boys. But they are the ones who get asked out the most in high school. Or they are the most flattered. They organise the most and, last but not least, they invest a lot of money in game setups for elective courses. The children of parents who contribute generously to laboratory equipment, computer rooms or canteen costs are already high up in the hierarchy.
Below them, I was like a drop of water at the bottom of the heights.
The lack of money, or worse than that, the lack of a family I could call 'good', was the cornerstone of my suffering.
After I came to this school, I suffered a lot, including the beatings I received from my father in the evenings. The biggest pain started when I was with him, though.
My mother had witnessed my father's violent behaviour from her youth. Nevertheless, she gave birth to me. Because this tendency to violence did not manifest itself in the early stages of the relationship and was very calm, like a tumour.
At first it was not even possible for people to make sense of it. Or to realise it during the loving, dear months. Of course, I couldn't blame my mother for not realising my father's true face early on. She secretly reported him to the police many times. My father had been suspended from seeing his child, along with the divorce proceedings.
His irrational nature frightened me.
I began to develop clairvoyance, not because I thought he would watch me every step of the way, but because I thought about which hand he would hit me with.
'Now he's in the kitchen,' I'd say, and then his movements would not slow down for a moment, but would move with an ever-increasing inward impulse.
The floor would shake as if it couldn't support his unruly strength.
At that moment I thought that a fault line was running underneath me, that this restless, grumpy man was going to pull me out of my wardrobe and crush me until I was a flea.
I had to admit that the blows of his belt or his fists, or even his drunken nights out on his own, had shrunk me considerably, made me a bug.
It was as if his fist was not meant to kill me or make me suffer, but to make me tiny.
My shoulders slumped, my breathing became more laboured, my veins became more sensitive and more prominent every day, and the father figure gradually disappeared from the pictures.
As I grew older, I thought that even if one cannot choose one's parents, one can choose one's school and friends. Although I believed this with all my heart, fate, as if to show that this would not be possible either, snapped its sword of justice on me.
My bad fate began when my father made me sit at the head of the class to brag to the people and got me into that high school.
At that time I studied without breathing, bleeding from my nose. With headaches. Even toothaches. A piercing sensation that made every limb tremble from head to toe. Body muscles contracted to the end but forgot to relax. Tired arms and legs. My smiles missing from the photo frames.
None of these were problems that the school fixed.
My problems increased exponentially.
I entered the school with an ideal badge as the most successful student. I got full points in the exam. I was a person who had no choice but to succeed in the only secondary school he would go to when he ran away from home. Naturally, I would do it quickly if we got a grade or understood it.
Also, what I saw in my dreams came true.
It seems really ridiculous to me, but I dreamt about all the things I would experience at school.
On the first day of school, I made a girlfriend.
Zenan was a pretty girl with curly, blonde hair.
I took ordinary photos with her, and one day I even went to a restaurant to eat with her with the last money in my pocket, even though I was beaten up by my father. It was daytime, and Zenan gave me some dresses I had never seen before. To me they were like a capsule of change. Then he took some photographs. The dresses were not short or revealing. But it was inevitable that they would be rejected in some sectors of society.
According to my father, a girl was not supposed to be pretty. She should always be crushed and bowed down in front of the father of the family. Maybe that's why, when I took the clothes off, put them back in the cardboard bags and returned them to Zenan, the situation hadn't changed: Bow your head as much as you can
When Zenan and I broke up, on the first day of school I was glad that I didn't see bullying. I thought high school was a good place.
The next day when I went to school, everything changed.
Everyone was running past me, not even looking at my face. For some reason they were mocking me by pointing at me somehow. Fallen papers littered the corridors. On the board were the crosses made by naughty students.
As a ninth grader, and perhaps someone just coming out of puberty or just entering it, I was frightened by their different attitudes. I looked for Zenan, I wanted to see what was going on. Just then, I saw Zenan at the entrance of the classroom. I had no time to admire her soft pink stockings under her short skirt.
'What happened, Zenan? Why are people running around like that?' I asked fearfully.
I was sure that she would support me, maybe for the first time I raised my head.
In response to my question, Zenan showed an attitude that I didn't realise yesterday. His eyebrows were drawn and his lips were smiling. 'The outfit you wore last night didn't suit you,' he said as a photograph appeared between his fingers.
I took it out of his hand with trepidation.
This was a cropped version of the photo Zenan and I had taken together, only my body was left, but the photo had been doctored. My body was completely naked. I fell to the ground with my hand over my mouth with the photo.
Everyone was dancing around me. Their voices were ear-piercing. I wanted to lift myself up, support myself and take a deep breath in front of them, but I failed.
No matter how hard those days were, I finally realised that this was a terrible joke on the new girls.
It was an outrageous joke.
Maybe their parents would only give them a little scolding, but if my father found out, he would kill me.
At that time, I hated everyone from the bottom of my heart.
Even Zenan's shoes standing in front of me got on my nerves. Maybe not that day, but many times they locked me in the toilet. After a day at school without food or water, I was beaten to death by my father.
My mum was very sick at that time. She went to my grandmother's to get away from my father. At the cost of leaving me all alone. I was all alone at home.
This increased the duration, if not the severity of the beatings.
The school administration didn't react to any of this.
Over time, I let my guard down against the behaviour of those monsters who were considered my friends. Throwing things at my face, the cut on my cheeks, cutting my blonde hair, stealing my clothes and spray painting them, excluding me in gym classes and swearing at me. Everything.
Letting my guard down was the biggest mistake I could have made. Because the more I let my guard down, the more they came at me.
While I was thinking about these things, I realised that someone was running towards me. He ran past me, bumping into me hard. 'Stand guard in gym class,' he ordered.
This was a tall guy who took turns dating the popular girls. I was startled by his touch. 'Huh?' he said, raising one eyebrow. Then he shook my upper body. 'Can't you hear me? I thought you were interested in guys like me.'
'I'm telling you,' he said and grinned wickedly. 'Wasn't that you in that photo? You're a pretty girl if you didn't dress so vulgarly.'
What he meant by vulgar was that I preferred my school skirt long.
'You're disgusting too,' I said with the last drop of my humanity. 'I hope you get everything you deserve.'
I was disgusted by such people. I wouldn't be so crushed if I had an irritating insect crawling on my skin.
The first time I raised my voice when I spoke to him, it galvanised me.
'What does that mean?' he said in a disgusting tone.
'What does it mean? It means you're a terrible person. Sorry, you're not even human.'
After a moment of silence, everyone started to surround us. Despite my words, they sarcastically cheered and applauded. As these voices echoed in my ears, I had no choice but to hug myself tightly. My back and forehead were covered in sweat, I was shivering.
Not knowing what to say for a moment, I wanted to have power over them and take revenge on them all.
Out of the crowd came the girl who had a photo on social media with the boy whose name I didn't know standing in front of me. It was probably his girlfriend. 'Are you messing with him?' she said, looking at the boy and winking. 'He's a k*hpe! He's not even a human being!' she said, resting her hand on my chin.
He looked at me manipulatively. He lifted my chin up and let go hard. Everyone was enjoying the spectacle so much. I felt my humanity being taken away from me.
Sometimes physical violence was a whip stroke that killed the soul.
At first we think it's spiritual, but then we don't realise how worn out and weakened our bodies are. Our body would fail us at the point where it could no longer represent us, as I am experiencing now. It would wear out. Like everything else.
'You're a girl! How can you be so merciless?' I shouted. In the middle of the crowd, Zenan's eyes were looking at me. I couldn't see any emotion there.
I felt so guilty for trusting him that his expressionlessness frightened me.
My lips trembled. 'Huh?' she said. 'You don't behave like a girl, what can I do?'
A teacher passed by in the corridor, but no one stopped the stationing. The teacher just closed the door and entered the classroom. 'Nobody's going to class!' said the monster standing over me.
I was disgusted with everyone here for watching this scene with laughter.
'You are terrible people. You are inhuman. You are savages. You will all suffer what you have suffered!' I hiccupped at the end, like a loser. Damn it, the last two syllables had exposed my weakness to the core.
As I was writhing helplessly, I heard the door to the corridor open. The wind blew in, causing a draught through the open windows. The door was shut hard. The laughter seemed to stop for a moment.
Someone must have entered the hall, yes, eyes focused on a point behind me.
Out of the corner of my eye I looked up, I was not the centre of anyone's attention, and although this gave me extreme peace and gratitude, when I raised my head a little, I saw two bullies, a boy and a girl, standing in front of me, frowning.
'Kale, who is that?' said the girl in front of me.
I learnt that the name of the harasser was Kale.
'Go home, Gizem,' Kale said and Gizem slowly floated towards the crowd. My curiosity was intensifying. Who was behind me. The sound of footsteps was getting closer and a shadow was following them rhythmically. A restless shadow, but like the voice of self-confidence. Even the silence was proof of that.
I shuddered as Kale walked past me. He walked backwards.
When the students were completely focused in that direction, I finally turned my head and saw a male student standing by the wall with a backpack. The top of a book cover with a dice on his face was visible on his backpack. As soon as I looked at him, what caught my attention was the resentment that accompanied his grey eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked like a judge trying to administer justice. This stare went on for a long time.
The student spoke: 'What is going on here?'
His harsh and judgemental voice came down like the whip of justice. Silence was broken. The words were sealed. The handle of his bag changed hands. The picture of the dice on the cover of the book grew bigger.
His steps, which were getting slower and slower, finally paused. As soon as I locked eyes with him, I wanted to turn my head quickly. I began to resist the feeling. The bag handle sliding in his left hand was held by fingers that didn't look too comfortable, two lines had formed on his forehead.
They were etched with the anger of someone who had been skilfully enraged.
My pupils contracted in surprise, as if they had seen the light. I swallowed heavily. I could see his jaw jutting out in anger. I pressed my lips tightly together, trapping my breath inside me.
Soon all hell would break loose.
The focus had shifted completely, and when the target shifted, someone always got restless. Time flowed even faster, leaving heavy damage wherever it touched. I was squeezing myself in place as Kale stared at the student he was seeing for the first time in the neighbourhood.
The new student tore his gaze away from each of them, especially Kale, and walked nonchalantly towards me, extending his hand. 'Are you all right?' I couldn't even describe the place his question occupied in my heart. It was a soft tone, as if it was the result of my prayers. And in this appearance, like a sentence of hope for salvation that you can get from a child with a hard voice. I shook my head quickly.
'I'm fine.'
He made eye contact on my words. The moment my gaze met his, he lit up like a match. 'You don't look like it. What did they do to you and why are they acting like this?'
Hearing everyone chattering amongst themselves made my heart ache even more.
'I-I... It's a long story,' I muttered.
'You must be new here!' Kale's cold voice filled the corridor.
My goosebumps shuddered and prickled at his elevation. The new guy held up his name badge. That's when I knew he'd hidden it in his sweater. I watched the chain slowly slip through his fingers. There was a meaningful slowness to his movements. His lips were dark as if he had swallowed all the silences. 'Ayaz. I am a new student, my class is 12/B.'
Kale said defiantly, 'Welcome then,' and extended his left hand to shake hands. The band of his watch glowed.
Ayaz, whose name I had memorised as soon as I learnt it, did not respond to this gesture. Even though seconds passed. 'You play golf? We could try it together sometime,' only Ayaz said.
Only the school circle who knew Kale would know that. If he was new to the school, how did he find out?
Kale, surprised and upset, lowered his hand and clenched it into a fist. The last thing he wanted was to show that he was upset.
Ayaz shifted his eyes from Kale and checked the signboard of the classroom the teacher had just entered. Then his gaze found me again. 'Did you hurt yourself? Why don't you get up? The floor is dirty and it's cold.' He looked at me carefully, and everyone grumbled among themselves and reluctantly left where they were standing.
'Okay,' Kale said. 'Text me when you want to play.'
Ayaz didn't respond. He bent his knees and crouched down, noticing the scar on my right leg where the hem of my skirt didn't quite reach."I think this one still hurts a little," he said, opening his backpack and pulling out a band-aid. A small tube of moisturizer followed right after.He opened the cap, gently touched the wound with a fresh applicator stick, then carefully applied the band-aid over it.He immediately extended his hand to help me up. "Come on, let's get you on your feet."
I had no idea how to respond to his words. I felt helpless.His gaze, soft and grounding, nudged me to stand.He supported me as I got up, making sure my hand didn't touch the floor.Soon, I was standing—with a band-aid on my leg and a tremble in my heart.His fingers had been cold, and the chill of them lingered on my skin.
For a moment, I just tried to breathe.
"What class are you in?" he asked. I rubbed my right arm with my left hand, my head slightly lifted.
"12-B," I said, trembling. There was no way he could know what this number, this letter, or even this entire school had done to me."Why did you transfer here? T-this place... it's not a good one..."My voice was fading again, shrinking inside me, like someone would scold me any second.My head was lowered, my chin and body marked with bruises I didn't want him to see. I even felt the need to hide my hands from him.
"I've heard some... unflattering rumors," he said casually.
"What kind of rumors? They're all bad, aren't they?" I asked, lowering myself with guilt, as if I had no right to question anything.I caught myself doing it and tried to pull up, but my broken instincts dragged me back down.
"Not exactly nice, no," he admitted. "But I believe that even in the worst places, good things can happen. Don't you think?"He looked directly into my eyes and pressed his lips together softly. I could feel something gleaming in his gaze.
"No. This isn't that kind of place!" I said, still rubbing my arm.
"Shall we go to class?" he asked. "I'm curious to see the classrooms here. By the way…"He blinked gently, covering part of his face with his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name."
The moment he asked for my name, my whole body heated up.My voice abandoned me. If I tried to speak, it would've come out too thin, too weak to be heard.And yet, I wanted him to hear me.With a shy breath, I whispered, "İpek."
A light sparked again in his eyes. He extended his hand toward me."Nice to meet you, İpek. Seems like you're going through some rough things here. If anything ever happens… talk to me, okay?"
I nodded, swallowing hard as my throat dried.
"Okay?" he asked again, gently insisting on a reply.
I nodded quickly. "Okay."
And just like that, with a simple nod, our friendship began.