The sharp ring of the alarm clock shattered the silence enveloping the room. Leila opened her eyes slowly, her vision still blurred with sleep, and turned toward the clock. It read 6:00 AM. With a sluggish hand, she reached out to silence the jarring noise, pressing the button with more effort than usual. Her head sank back onto the pillow, seeking refuge in the comforting warmth of her bed for just a few more moments. But something felt... wrong. 

“Six o’clock...” she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible. Yet, the words felt heavier than they should. It wasn’t just six o’clock—it was a sign, an invisible thread tying this moment to something dark and unfamiliar, something that gnawed at the edges of her comfort. It was as if time itself had paused, lingered, and then resumed in a way that no longer felt natural.  

A cold shiver ran down her spine, nudging her into full wakefulness. She sat up abruptly, shaking off the clinging remnants of sleep, trying to dismiss the unease. But as her feet touched the floor, a draft of icy air swept through the room, even though the windows were tightly shut. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were leaning closer, cloaked in an unnatural shadow.  

Determined to push aside the creeping fear, Leila took a quick shower, dressed, and descended to the kitchen to begin her day. She hoped the routine would ground her, convince her that the strange sensation was nothing more than an overactive imagination.  

But when she reached the kitchen, the world seemed to shift. The room was enveloped in darkness. The lights wouldn’t turn on. She flicked the switches again and again, but the result was the same—unrelenting blackness. It felt as if night had overstayed its welcome, refusing to surrender to dawn.  

The oppressive silence weighed on her as she fumbled her way to the window, tugging it open. The cool air rushed in, but it carried no relief, only deepened the disquiet. She stared outside, expecting to see the familiar soft hues of sunrise creeping over the horizon. Instead, she was met with an endless void of shadow. There was no sun, no hint of the morning that should have greeted her. The world outside looked distorted, like a painting smeared by an unsteady hand. Time itself seemed frozen.  

Desperate for an explanation, Leila checked her phone. It too confirmed the time—6:00 AM . She glanced at the kitchen clock—it mirrored the same. The consistency offered no comfort, only a chilling affirmation that something was deeply wrong.  

Her breath quickened as her chest tightened. Her heart pounded as if trying to break free of her ribs, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. The feeling of isolation was overwhelming, like being trapped in a labyrinth with no exit. “What is this? A cruel joke? Has the Earth stopped turning?” she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling under the weight of her questions. But the room offered no answers, only an oppressive silence that thickened with each passing second.  

Leila took a shaky step toward the stairs leading to her parents’ bedroom. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, each more chaotic than the last. As she climbed, she noticed how the familiar walls seemed foreign, distorted by an invisible force. Each step felt heavier, as though she was wading through a deep, unseen current.  

Every creak of the floorboards under her feet sent shivers through her. Her instincts screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but her curiosity and growing fear propelled her forward. Something was wrong—terribly wrong—and she needed to understand it.  

The house felt alive, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Leila’s own breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as her trembling hand reached for the doorknob to her parents’ room. Whatever awaited her on the other side, she knew, was about to change everything.