BLACK ROSE (COMPLETED)

33 -

At three in the deep night...

Having finally shaken off Derin, I could at last return home. Once I'd left Kerem's place, I hailed a cab, and after a short ride, I arrived at my street. I asked the driver to stop at the corner, paid the fare, and stepped out of the car. As the cab pulled away into the distance, I began the walk toward my building.

But as I neared the apartment complex, the scene that greeted me slowed my steps until I came to a complete halt. Just outside the garden gate, someone stood, head tilted upward, staring fixedly at my building. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was Kerem. His lips moved as if in a silent chant, his eyes trained on the building in eerie focus.

What could Kerem possibly be muttering to himself? Had he come all the way here to utter words that would bring a curse upon me? It certainly appeared that way. Yet, something within me resisted the notion that he was doing this deliberately. For reasons I couldn't explain, I still wanted to believe in his innocence.

Slipping into telepathic mode, I plunged headfirst into Kerem's mind. But the moment I entered, I found myself drowning in a sea of icy, chilling hatred. Normally, Kerem harbored fondness for Fatih, but now his mind brimmed with rage, seething with an intensity that took my breath away. He was here, as I had feared, to direct the curse at me, the dark force hanging over me like a blade poised to strike.

In short, Kerem wanted me dead. Whether conscious of it or not, that was the undeniable truth.

Suddenly, a man's voice, thick and slurred, jolted me from behind.

"Look at this beauty," he crooned, his tone sleazy. "Are you a genie come from my beer bottle, or are you a fairy?"

I whirled around, my gaze landing on the source. A man in his fifties, grey-haired, with a beer bottle clutched in one hand, leered at me. His distended belly strained against the fabric of his thin, gray shirt, evidence of a lifetime spent in the losing battle with alcohol. But still, repentance was possible, even until the final breath. I prayed that Allah might guide him, freeing him from the grip of this grave sin.

"I'm neither a genie, a fairy, nor an Irish leprechaun," I retorted.

"Ah, but you must be a tooth fairy then. Why don't you come to my place, beautiful fairy?" He drew nearer.

"I'd advise against coming any closer, because this tooth fairy is liable to punch you hard enough to knock out that gold tooth of yours. I'm more of a back-alley, rough-around-the-edges kind of fairy, you see."

"You misunderstand," the man slurred, swaying on his feet, barely able to stay upright as he leaned against a nearby car for support. "I just wanted to sit and chat with you for a while."

"And may I ask what your name is?"

"Rıza. And yours?"

"My name is Ece. But Mr. Rıza, I am not the type of girl who goes to a stranger's house at three in the morning for a chat."

"We could meet tomorrow, then," he suggested. "In the daylight."

I sighed. Just when I'd caught Kerem in the act of casting his curse, this walking beer barrel had to make a move on me. His breath wasn't merely unpleasant anymore; it had moved past that stage. It now carried a stench that felt alive, a reek that seemed to breathe on its own.

"I'm afraid I'm busy tomorrow as well. I've got a six-year-old girl whose tooth I need to collect, Mr. Rıza. I'm sorry."

Rıza took a step closer, edging toward me. "Are you a student, Ece?"

Was this man even aware that he was more than thirty years older than me? Or had alcohol so fried his brain cells that the age gap escaped his notice entirely? Allah had forbidden alcohol for good reason.