"Up until the end of middle school, Rüzgar, Demir, Bora, Nil, and I all went to the same school. But as the company grew and our families' income levels went up, Rüzgar and I transferred to a private high school because of our mothers' insistence. That's where it started." I sighed slowly.
"First fact about private schools: from the outside, they look perfect. Once you're inside, it takes at most two days to realize it's just a display window. Second important fact: if you can't tolerate injustice, you absolutely—absolutely—should not go to a private school."
She laughed and bumped her shoulder against mine.
"Like you and Rüzgar?"
I laughed and nodded.
"Exactly—like me and Rüzgar. Before the first month was even over, we'd gotten into enough fights to get expelled from more than one school… but thanks to our families' money, not only were we not expelled, most of the time our parents didn't even hear about it. Of course, that was also because the school was afraid of the families of the other students involved. In fact, the kids we fought usually had even more problematic families. The sources of the trouble were always similar: the ones who thought they could buy everything, the ones who controlled their kids so much they practically suffocated them, and the ones who claimed to love their kids but were never actually in their lives. I'm not saying all wealthy families are like that, but more often than not, that was the situation."
"Let me guess—most of your fights were about saving kids from type one families from type three families' kids?"
"Yes. You could say ninety percent of them were."
"Two handsome boys with a troublemaker image, hmm… Exactly the type you fall for in high school. I'm sure you had a massive fanbase."
I laughed at her knowing tone and replied,
"And that's what caused the remaining ten percent."
"I'm not surprised. So… did you fight this well back then too?"
"No. And that's where the first part of the story starts. Around mid-semester, there wasn't anyone at school who didn't know us anymore. But that didn't just bring pretty girls our way. One day after school, a group of seniors said we were damaging the hierarchy they'd built and decided they needed to teach us a lesson. If another senior hadn't stepped in, they would've succeeded. While Rüzgar and I were barely still standing, that guy took down all five of them by himself—and his shirt didn't even wrinkle. After he helped us, we learned that the guy—Tolga—was a kickboxer who competed in international tournaments. The more I got to know him over time, the more my admiration for him grew, but it wasn't just because he fought well. He was also polite, funny, helpful, and responsible. Everyone at school both liked him and respected him a lot."
"He sounds really mature for his age."
I smiled and nodded.
"He was. After he helped us, we became pretty close. After a while, it became more than friendship. He was like the big brother I never had. Whenever we hung out, I'd ask him to teach me kickboxing too. Every time, he'd say he wasn't good enough to teach someone else, and if I wanted it that badly, I should go train with a real coach. But I'd already made up my mind." My brows knitted as I remembered my stubbornness.
"In the end I convinced him somehow, and he agreed to teach me, but he had one condition: no matter what, unless it was absolutely necessary, I wouldn't get into fights, and I wouldn't use what I learned from him to hurt anyone. Since I had no reason to object, I promised. When we finished our first year, he graduated. He went to college in İzmir, but until I graduated high school, he kept training me. In the beginning, I couldn't last even a minute against him. By the time I graduated, I'd improved enough to even out the score."
I paused and exhaled wearily. Holding the hand she'd placed over mine, I continued, the horrible memories flashing in front of my eyes.
"Then my family had that accident, and my life flipped upside down overnight. I couldn't get out of the emotional mess I'd fallen into. Denial, guilt, loneliness, longing… everything was becoming more unbearable by the day, until I couldn't even stand myself anymore. I drank every moment I was awake. And the more I drank, the worse I became. There was this unbelievable anger inside me—toward everyone and everything." I kept going as the disturbing memories returned one by one.
"And as you can guess, alcohol didn't help that anger at all. My friends knew exactly where it would lead, so they tried to help me as much as they could. Every day, one of them would stand guard to make sure I didn't do something stupid in that state or hurt myself."
I paused again, swallowing with difficulty, aware of the impact the next part would have.
"One day, it was Bora's turn to watch me—and I was struggling even more than usual to control myself. Bora realized talking wasn't getting us anywhere and tried to take the bottle from me, but even drunk, the poor guy didn't stand a chance against me. By the time I realized what I'd done, he was half-unconscious."
As soon as I finished, she covered her mouth with her free hand. I nodded, not daring to look at her face.
"I know what you're thinking. How could I do that to someone like him—one of the purest, kindest people you could ever meet? How could I hurt one of my closest friends just because he was trying to help me? I was shocked too. Terrified of what I'd just seen myself do, my first instinct was to grab my jacket and leave the house. And after that night, I didn't come home for weeks." I breathed out slowly.
"That's where the rope truly snapped for me. All I can tell you about that stretch of time—when I spent most of my days on the streets—is that I started hanging out with people no seventeen-year-old should ever know, and because of that, I found myself inside illegal fights."
"Oh my God…" she whispered to herself.
"So that's why everyone panicked last time when you disappeared…"
I nodded.
"The funny part is, the thing that got me there in the first place was alcohol, but I'd stopped drinking to fight. Because when my brain was numb, I couldn't let the anger out enough. And anger was the whole reason I was doing those fights. It got so dangerous that most of the time I was dropping guys before you could blink. Sometimes I was the one getting beaten, but no matter how badly I was injured, I was back there the next day." My next words sounded like a confession to myself more than anything.
"By the end of the night, I didn't care which one of us was lying on that concrete. The only thing I cared about was letting that burning rage out somehow. And you know what the truly horrifying part was? I enjoyed it. I enjoyed what I did to them, and I enjoyed what they did to me. And by then, I'd long forgotten the promise I made to Tolga."
"I don't understand. Didn't anyone wonder where you were and try to find you all that time?"
"They did. Every day. Every one of them tried to reach me. But after what I'd done to Bora, I didn't have the courage to talk to any of them or face them. So I left them a message saying I was fine, that they shouldn't worry about me, and that they shouldn't look for me." I gave a bitter smile.
"Of course, that didn't stop them. I don't know how he did it, but one day Tolga found me. He rightfully chewed me out for what I'd done. Then he spent hours trying to convince me to leave those men and come home. But I was so deep at rock bottom I wasn't listening to a word he said. When he realized he couldn't get through to me, he left. And I thought nothing had changed—so I got ready for that night's fight, convinced I'd just keep going."
Reliving it all again made my lips dry with tension. I wet them and continued.
"But when it was time and I entered the ring, I faced a surprise I never could've expected. At the far end, waiting for me, was Tolga."