The Woman in the Letter

PART 31

Natalie

I was taken to the hospital in time. My father told me how I was saved on the way home from the hospital. When he knocked on the door of my room and tried to speak, I did not answer. Then he opened the door to turn off the TV. He says he did not remember the rest. He can't remember exactly when he took me in his arms and took me to the hospital. The doctor told my father that I had returned from the brink of a great tragedy. He didn't know we were already on the edge of the abyss.

After taking the medicine given by the doctor to completely cleanse my blood of toxins, which belonged to the second day, I bent down under my bed. I pulled the big gray box towards me and put it on the table. I turned the box over and poured the set of letters on the table that I had planned to burn but had not yet burned. It could not be far away. He was hiding somewhere, ready to attack at any moment.

I straightened the yellowed papers one by one and began to look through them. Something I forgot. A place I forgot. A memory I forgot. Anything... I didn't even know what I was looking for. But I had to look. I had to know Paul again, from the beginning. The only way to do that was to look at the letters. Because those were the only things left from Paul. I used to look at these letters through the eyes of someone who loved me. Now I had to look through the eyes of the killer who wrote to me.

For me, you hide four seasons inside your eyes

I could no longer bear his words of love. In every word, in every sentence, I hate him even more, I wanted to tear him apart.

Your laughter is summer for me, Natalie. It's winter for me with pale eyes. Cold, distant, colorless. Then, every second you hold my hand, you remind me of autumn. I see the golden color of the leaves in your eyes

I quickly folded the letters I was looking at and threw them away. On the next paper, I had to read the same disgusting words of love to the end. I had to feel it. I had to get into his brain. I had to find out what he was thinking, what he could think, what the next step would be. At least I hoped I could do it.

I do not deserve such an amazing woman like you. I'm not good enough for your love

You were right, Paul. I should have listened to you before was late.

I did not know that God loves me. He brought me to you and made me the happiest man in the world.

I had not yet read half of the letters. There was still a letter on the table, crumpled up on the floor. The sound of heavy rain touched the window of my living room in harmony with the music which was playing on the open TV in the living room.

I do not want to go anywhere without you. I hate these business trips. It takes you away from me. Next week's trip to Italy is already damaging my nerves. I wish I could take you with me.

I wish ... I wish you would never return from those trips, Paul. I wish you had disappeared forever without saying anything. I wish you would fall in love with another in one of those cities and never return.

I got up from the bed. I remembered the little white angel statue he had brought for me from Rome. I didn't throw it. I believed that if I stood up and tore that little statue to pieces, my nerves would calm down a bit. How can I forget? The little souvenirs he brought me on each trip were stored in the bottom of a drawer I didn't use.

I opened the drawer, took out the small souvenirs at the bottom with my palms, and poured them all on the floor.

I told him to bring small memories for me from where you go. After we got married, I planned to build a small corner in our house. How romantic. Or How stupid I was. I was stupid enough to dream of marrying a murderer. I could not find what tied me to Paul. I took the statue of the little angel in my hand and broke its head. The statue's head fell to the side as it was thrown in the trash. He brought a small boat souvenir to France. I squeezed tightly in my palm. Then I tried to split it with both hands, but I couldn't. Then I hit the souvenir to the ground and broke. Squeezing the head of the guitar souvenir he had brought from Vienna with my thumb was enough to break it. My hands hurt. I was very embarrassed. I tried to calm my big hatred with small toys. God, how desperate I am.

I approached the trash can. Something caught my eye when I broke the wings of the little love angel I had left and thrown them in the trash. I noticed a small inscription under the statue taken from Budapest. I took

the statue closer to me.

"Ma.. i. .aku"

Although the writing was scratched with a nail, it left a mark. If I look closely, I can read the letters. But I had to look very carefully. There were still traces of very small writing on the bottom of the statue. No matter how hard it was erased, it was possible to read some of the letters.

"Ma.. i. .aku"

"Made in Baku"

First, I thought, he forgot to get a present, he brought me a statue he had bought here. It could be. Last year, when I couldn't find the type of jacket my mother wanted from abroad, I bought it in the shops here and gave it to my mother as a gift. But for some reason, I had a strange curiosity. I sat in front of the trash can. I took out all the statues I had broken from the trash can. Then I put the night lamp next to me and turned on the light. I began to examine the fragments of the statue one by one. I got a sea snail statue in my first hand. I looked carefully from right to left. I could not see the name of any country. Then I looked at the guitar souvenir. I also saw the letters that were tried to be deleted under it.

"B..u"

"Baku"

Viennese souvenirs were also made in Baku. I tried to look for other statues one by one quickly and with strange enthusiasm.

I saw the words "made in" on the edge of the pirate ship's souvenir. The city name was deleted.

In many of the statues, the name of the city of production was either erased or almost non-existent. Only "Made in China" was not deleted in the Chinese version of souvenirs.

Almost all the statues that Paul told me that he brought from the cities he visited were made in here,Baku.