Nazım

Bağışla// forgive me?

I don't know what to make of this one.

I really don't.

B A Ğ I Ş L A

{forgive me?}

Late that afternoon, Nesrin had stayed at school, perfecting her project. Since her talk with Teyze Fatma and hearing her story, she'd decided that it could be her who chose to pull her weight. There was still some sort of sadness within her, but it was nothing a little work on her project couldn't fix, along with some assignments to take her mind of the state of things at the moment. She hadn't spoken to Nazım in a while, guessing he'd be mad at her enough. There were some choice words she wished she could have taken back. But Riya was proving to be someone nice to be around, so if Nazım didn't want to talk to her, there was always Riya.

Her project, inspired by another student, was a prosthetic foot, for people who had suffered tragic accidents that caused loss of a certain limb or more. This foot, when attached to the stump, would function just as an old foot would have, with some minor repercussions. Nesrin was planning to contact doctors to see if they would use her model, which she believed to be far more superior than whatever others used for their own prosthetic limbs.

She was about to screw in a missing piece when a teacher came to tell her that it was time to go. Seeing that it was almost Meghrib, and also time for dinner, Nesrin was on her way to cleaning up her workspace, especially making sure to wipe off the grease with her already stained cloth. She picked up her project and was well on her way back to the section in the basement to store it with the other projects, looking for her last name on the cards. That was when she heard footsteps other than hers.

She ignored it, and her pounding heart, passing it off as nothing. It was probably someone else putting their project back, even though she knew she was the last person to finish up revising.

The sounds stopped.

And so did she. Her feet felt like they were locked in place and she just couldn't move despite how much she wanted to.

"It seems as if I've caught you at a good time, " a cool, mellow voice said with a dangerous edge.

Her project slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor with the clatter of metal and wood. Hours of work gone and at her feet. But she couldn't focus on that. She stared off blankly into space. Her heart was beating even faster.

"Yo-you," she whisper-stammered, more so to herself.

"Aw," the voice, having a twinge of sarcasm said. "Ruined all that hard work because of me?"

She swallowed the massive lump in her throat. "Who said you could be here?" she asked into the dark nothingness. She knew his voice was coming from behind her. Why couldn't she move?

"I let myself in," Berkant answered. She spun around, seeing a different version of the man she saw at the party more than a month ago. He stared her down with piercing blue eyes, it almost reminded Nesrin of a ghost. "You have very helpful friends."

Helpful friends?

She wasn't going to dwell on what he meant by those words. Nesrin knew behind her was that flight of stairs. And she did not waste any time running for them.

She grabbed the railing but was pulled back by two arms wrapping around her waist. Nesrin tried to let out the loudest scream she could but was stopped by the hand clamped over her mouth. Nesrin was dragged back and her back pressed against his torso.

She planted her feet on the cement, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. For the split second his hand left her mouth, she let out an inaudible shout before a moist cloth was pressed against her nose.