January first.
The beginning of a new year. May it be a year of goodness, and a year of safety.
And perhaps, if we're lucky, we might even get a little peace and quiet...
Of course, we weren't going to get that while we were all crowded around the bed of someone who had decided to sleepwalk only minutes ago, and was now sleeping peacefully.
Peacefully?
Yes. He had been, until a moment ago. Atheer, sitting beside me, seemed to have decided to entertain himself with some sort of game.
The moment he sat up, he began behaving like a child. One moment, he was pressing on Niyar's bruises, and the next, he was playing with his hair, braiding it into tiny plaits.
"Stop messing around, Atheer."
"But look at his sleeping face, Aster. This is fun. Besides, it's the least I can do after he made me wake up in the middle of the night."
"That's not important right now. What happened earlier? You don't seem surprised by any of this, Aster."
I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbing it as I considered Al's question.
Should I tell them, or shouldn't I?
"It started about a month and a half ago."
Atheer interrupted me before I had barely finished speaking.
"Since he arrived?"
"No. About a week after that."
"After the break when he went back home, right?"
"Exactly, Al."
"That's a month and a week, genius."
"May I finish, Atheer?" I asked irritably.
"Oh, by all means."
"It was in the middle of the night, exactly like this. I left my room to fill my pitcher with water, and when I came back, I heard footsteps coming from his room. Only moments later, the door opened. He stood there, perfectly still, his head bowed in front of the open door.
"The lights were off at the time, so I couldn't see his expression. I tried talking to him, thinking he was awake, but he didn't respond. So I turned on the hallway light, and that's when I saw him standing there, crying.
"He was crying so hard that I thought his tears had run dry.
"I took his hand and led him back to his bed. I sat him down and wiped his face, only to realize that he'd already lost consciousness and fallen back asleep."
"How many times has this happened?"
"Every day. Except on exam nights, since he stays up late."
"Every day, and you never thought to tell us? You could've at least talked to him."
"I didn't know how to bring it up once I realized he himself didn't remember any of it. Besides, I don't intend to stay silent this time like I always do. This has become more serious than usual. Not once before this had he actually left his room."
"The safety locks you installed... were they because of this?"
"Yes... Go to sleep. He won't wake until dawn. Besides, you have exams tomorrow."
"Didn't you hear? The exams have been postponed, along with classes altogether. And it looks like the entrance exams will be delayed too."
"Exactly. Otherwise, why do you think Al would be here, Aster?"
Good grief. Did I really have that much patience to write down the entire conversation in my journal?
Back to the matter at hand.
After that conversation, everyone returned to their rooms. When morning came, we woke to find that Niyar had already started preparing breakfast.
"Good morning, Niyar. Are your bruises any better than yesterday?"
"Morning... I think so. I can at least move my hand."
It didn't look that way to me. If anything, they looked far worse than they had the day before.
"Ridiculous. It's barely morning and you're already pushing yourself past your limits? Taking things away from you is going to become a daily routine, Niyar."
Atheer said irritably as he took the frying pan from Niyar's hand.
"Sit down. We have a lot to talk about."
Albert ushered Niyar toward the living room before returning to help Atheer prepare the rest of breakfast. Meanwhile, I brought the first-aid kit to clean his wounds and bandage what had been left by his latest fall.
"Lift your hair, Niyar."
He hesitated for a moment before slowly raising his hair.
The wound was clean, but it had clearly been neglected.
While tending to it, I couldn't help examining his face again. His pale skin was almost ghostly, even to me, an albino myself. His reddened eyes were swollen, and the dark circles beneath them had grown deeper and more pronounced. His face even looked considerably thinner than it had when we'd first met him.
I noticed him fidgeting before he finally asked in his usual quiet voice,
"How did you know I'd injured my forehead?"
"How could I not know? I'll tell you after you eat breakfast."
He looked genuinely puzzled by that.
As soon as Albert and Atheer finished preparing breakfast, everyone took some and went upstairs to their rooms as usual.
Atheer sighed.
"Isn't he going to eat with us today either? How long is he going to stay like this?"
"Sometimes, if not always, one needs to stay away from the noise you make."
"Look who's talking. The noisy one in the flesh!"
"Enough, both of you! Am I babysitting children now?"
I finished my meal and went upstairs to speak with Niyar. Naturally, those two followed me.
I knocked softly on his door and opened it after hearing Niyar give me permission to enter.
I found him sitting on the bed with a book in his lap, reading. The food sat untouched on the bedside table.
We sat around him on the bed.
"We need to talk, Niyar."
Niyar flinched at the three of us gathering around him, and the tension in his voice was unmistakable.
"About what?"
"Tell me. Do you know how you injured your forehead?"
He hesitated before answering.
"No, but... I think I just fell out of bed."
"You're right that it was caused by a fall. But you fell down the stairs, not out of bed."
"The stairs?"
"Niyar, be honest with us. Do you realize that you're sleepwalking?"
Shock spread across his face.
"What? When did it come back? No... How did I not realize?"
From his reaction, I knew this wasn't something new.
"It's been happening for more than a month."
"Why are you only telling me now?"
"I didn't know how to tell you."
Niyar ran both hands through his hair, looking utterly lost.
"I'm sorry... I've caused you all trouble because of this."
He apologized without lifting his head, avoiding our eyes.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him lightly, my voice deliberately stern, hoping he'd finally answer my question.
"What happened on November twenty-fifth, Niyar?"
---
I froze at his question.
I hadn't expected that date to be brought up again anytime soon.
I bit my lip without even realizing it.
"November twenty-fifth..."
What could I possibly say? How could I explain it?
That was a day I never wanted to remember.
"Tell us, Niyar! We're almost two months into this together, and you haven't told us anything. You barely spend any time with us. Are we really going to remain strangers throughout our studies? Wouldn't it be better if we actually got to know one another? Our lives together aren't going to last two or three months. They'll last at least two or three years. It makes no sense for us to remain strangers."
"That's a rather wise thing to say coming from you, Atheer. But he's right, Niyar. I swear I won't leave until you tell me what happened to you that day."
Should I tell them... or shouldn't I?
How could I reveal a nightmare that followed me like a shadow, one that refused to fade even when the sun was gone?
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather thoughts that I wasn't even sure I could string together.
Perhaps I had no choice but to speak.
"On November twenty-fifth... No. It goes back further than that. November eleventh.
"My city was attacked.
"It began the moment I returned home from school with my sister. Nothing about the place was remotely peaceful. The first thing that greeted me was an evacuation order.
"I grabbed a bag from beside the door and gathered whatever meant the most to me before locking the door behind me.
"I walked into the kitchen, and before I could even cross the threshold, I saw my uncle quietly wiping away his tears so no one would notice.
"I pretended not to see him and changed direction.
"Then I went into the living room and threw myself onto the couch, waiting for the moment of farewell...
"I couldn't miss the traces of tears beneath that foolish smile.
"And at the doorway of our home... that was my last memory."
That was the last memory I had of him while he was still alive.
And I wish I hadn't seen it.
I wish I hadn't.
"And then?"
"And then... we left the city. A day later, we arrived here.
"That night, we received his final call, moments before he took his last breath.
"It was November eleventh.
"My uncle Bairam died.
"Murdered... No. Betrayed by someone he trusted, leaving behind a single clue that would lead us to him."
"I watched everyone around me collapse into tears.
"But I didn't even blink.
"It was as though what my mind understood contradicted everything that had been ingrained in my very being.
"Up until that point, I was fine.
"Everything was fine."
I raised my head until my eyes met the ceiling, drawing in a deep breath before continuing.
Perhaps also to keep my tears from falling.
"On November twenty-fifth...
"The funeral."
---
November twenty-fifth.
An entire week had passed.
I changed my clothes, slung my bag over my shoulder, and stepped outside, waiting for Joyce to leave the dormitory.
We walked along the main road until my father came to meet us.
The journey was filled with silence and stillness. My father looked more exhausted than he had a week ago.
I let my body sink into the seat and closed my eyes.
An unbearable silence.
Finally, my father's deep sigh broke it.
"We're almost home... Bairam's body arrived last night, so we didn't tell you about the funeral until this morning."
He fell silent for a moment before continuing.
"I hadn't intended to bring you... but you'd hate me if I didn't."
"Of course we would. He's our uncle, after all. I can't bear the thought of him being buried without us saying goodbye."
Annoying...
All of this was annoying.
The car finally stopped in front of the house, which was crowded with mourners.
I stepped out, carrying my bag, and walked inside.
Straight into a reality I wasn't ready to face.
The first person I saw inside was my mother.
Her eyes were swollen to the point of looking as though they might burst from all the crying. The moment Joyce saw her, she broke down and threw her arms around her.
I hurried upstairs to my room, dropped my bag, plugged in my phone to charge, and then went back down.
"Father... where is he?"
My father turned toward me at the sound of my voice.
"In the reception room."
I headed straight there.
My hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitant. But the moment I reached for it, my father's hand closed around my wrist.
"Are you certain you want to do this? You won't like what you'll see behind that door. It may even destroy you completely."
I turned to him and replied with forced resolve.
"Father... I'm not changing my mind. Please, don't pity me if I try to back out later. Make me see everything. You know better than anyone what happens if I don't see the ending."
"The ending, then... Go ahead."
I opened the door and stepped inside, my father following behind me.
The room was empty, just as I'd last seen it.
Except for the body lying in the middle of it, wrapped in a white shroud.
I knelt beside him, hesitated, then began unwrapping the shroud.
The moment I saw him, I recoiled instinctively, stumbling backward.
A wave of nausea rose in my stomach at the horror before me. My entire body trembled violently, as though struck by lightning, and my breathing grew shallow, as if I were drowning at the bottom of the ocean.
I reached toward him again.
"My God..."
I couldn't take in the whole picture.
At first, all I saw were the tips of his burned hair.
Then the shroud came loose from his body, revealing a mutilation I had never imagined a human being could inflict upon another.
A scream of horror tore from me.
Desperately, I tried to look away, my fingernails digging into my forearms until they nearly tore through my skin.
I didn't recognize him.
I didn't recognize him at all.
Not until I saw the scar on his forearm.
I barely realized what was happening before my father wrapped his arms around me from behind. I felt his tears soaking into my shoulder.
"Look at him, Niyar. I hate that you have to see someone who was your companion in childhood in a state like this. But if you don't face the reality of what happened to him now, you'll spend months, perhaps years, living in denial."
I knew my father was right, but I fought against him, trying to escape.
"Let me go, Father. I don't want to see him. Please."
How quickly things had changed.
Only minutes ago, I had begged him not to spare me.
"I won't leave until you see him. If you've started this, then finish it. I haven't forgotten what happened to you when you lost your sister. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life chasing the ghost of a past that will never return?"
My eyes filled with bitter tears.
Reluctantly, I looked again, my sobs breaking through between screams I could no longer suppress.
His body lay upon the white shroud, still and cold, missing so much.
A leg...
An arm...
Even an eye.
The blood had been wiped from his body, as though someone had tried to make what remained of him look less horrifying than it truly was.
The clothes he had been wearing on the day we said goodbye were torn and scorched.
And yet, that was nothing compared to the rest.
His skull had been crushed, his brain removed and hastily gathered together.
Half his face and half his body were burned, while the other half had been eaten away by acid, exposing bone and teeth.
Even his internal organs had been taken from his body.
Was all of this hatred?
All of this spite?
If you find that your enemy hates you more than ever, know that you're on the right path.
The right path, you said?
Did the right path mean ending up like this, Uncle?
I found myself screaming and sobbing at the sight of him.
My uncle...
"Uncle... why? Why you, of all people?"
My father's shoes scraped against the floor as he stood. He placed a hand on my head.
"The good ones leave first, Niyar. Let us let him go now."
My father sensed that I was still staring and covered the body, shielding me from the sight.
His movements were careful and gentle, as though he were wrapping a living man rather than a corpse.
My strength gave out the moment I tried to stand.
I felt my father's arms wrap around me, supporting me as I buried my head against his shoulder, unable to stop my tears.
"Go get some sleep. The others will gather later for the burial."
I made my way to my room with heavy steps and collapsed onto my bed, crying until sleep finally stole me away.
At sunset, when it was time to lay him to rest, we followed the funeral procession in silence, enduring the grief as best we could.
I stood at the edge of his grave.
And there was only one thought in my mind.
What if?
What if I threw myself into the grave beside him, so my soul could keep his company?
For a moment, I nearly did it.
But seeing my father covering his body with earth brought me back to my senses.
I wasn't the only mourner.
I was merely one among many.
And the moment the crowd straightened and the burial came to an end, threads of rain began to fall from the sky, as though heaven itself were mourning him.
"In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
The late Bairam Arman, may Allah have mercy upon him, passed away at the age of twenty-seven.
May Allah have mercy upon him and forgive his sins."
We returned home, and I retreated to my room, leaving the mourners behind.
I sat in the corner and curled in on myself, crying silently.
A knock came before the door opened.
I raised my head to find my mother entering the room and kneeling beside me, wrapping her arms around me.
That was all it took.
I broke down crying as though I had never cried before.
My mother patted my back, and I could feel her exhausted body trembling as well.
"There is a letter for you, Niyar. Here. Read it."
She pulled a tightly sealed letter from her pocket.
I knew that wrapping all too well.
I took it from her carefully.
She patted my head before getting up and leaving.
I opened the letter.
The scent of purple basil filled the room as a sprig slipped from the envelope.
His favorite herb.
The same herb that had filled his home and lined his windows.
I picked up the sprig and brought it to my nose before beginning to read.
"November tenth."
So...
He had written it the night before he died.
"This letter is for you, Niyar, so... could you stop crying and read it?
Come on. You can do it. Breathe in, then breathe out, for a minute, perhaps?"
For a moment, I could almost imagine him beside me, patting my head the way he always did.
"First.
I'm... sorry.
For becoming a source of pain to you... for becoming a sorrow in your heart.
I hoped my death would leave a softer echo in your heart, but I know that human beings have wishes that cannot always be granted.
Get up from that corner you're sitting in. The floor is cold, and your sickly body certainly won't object."
He knew me better than I knew myself...
"You may think me cruel for writing these words for you to read after my death, but I swear, I never wanted you to spend your life imprisoned by the past.
Perhaps you're wondering why I'm writing this while I'm still alive, sitting here safely.
For a week now, I've been dreaming... dreaming of my family.
Every day, they come closer to me in my dreams.
Last night, they were practically within reach.
And because I missed them so much, I wanted to throw myself into their arms.
I thought it was nothing more than a meaningless dream, but something in my heart kept telling me, Write, Bairam. This is your last chance. Don't waste it.
Last chance for what? I don't know.
And how desperately I wished I didn't know.
But pretending not to know isn't easy.
I could feel death calling my name.
Do you know something, Niyar?
You saved me, and I am grateful to you.
You always thought you were the one who leaned on me.
But the truth is, I was the one who leaned on you first.
Do you remember when I first came to live with you?
I was empty. Numb. I'd lost hope that anything would ever make up for what I'd lost.
But you reached out your hands to me first.
I will never forget the moment you grabbed my leg. You were only a child then, barely able to take your first steps.
Were you three years old?
I never imagined that the owner of those tiny hands would be the one to save me.
Every night, whenever I buried my face in my pillow and cried because I missed my family, the soft knocks on my door would silence me.