Müdafaa-i Hukuk-i Nisvan

Chapter VIII

Make them free, and they will quickly become wise and virtuous,

As men become more so; for improvement must be mutual,

Or the justice which one half of the human race are obliged to submit to,

Retorting on their oppressors, the virtue of man will be worm-eaten

By the insect whom he keeps under his feet (...)

I speak of the improvement and emancipation of the whole sex...

Mary Wollstonecraft

A week later

Another sleepless night was hers. Hilal pulled her blanket to her chin as if she hoped for comfort. But whenever she closed her eyes, Hava was there. Hava's words, Hava's shy smile, Hava's hopes. Lütfü had told her not to dive into grief, not to give in to death, for Hava would not like that. But then Hava was gone and the burden of her death lasted heavy on her shoulders. Hilal tightly shut her eyes as the images and laments filled her inner eye. She didn't want to remember the lost expression on the face of her friend's parents.

They had avoided to look at her. How could she blame them? In their eyes she was the one who was responsible that their dear daughter didn't dwell among them anymore. They had interred her friend in all modesty, not mentioning the true reason of her death.

Hilal opened her eyes, the heaviness upon her chest became unbearable. Sitting up in the makeshift bed, her eyes got caught by the photo frame that was blackened with soot. Yesterday, she finally had the courage to look at the ruin which used to be her home once. The sight had taken her breath away. The quick heart-beats and sweaty hands visualized the helplessness she felt. All was gone. Gone- how frequently she used that word recently...

On trembling legs, she passed the half-demolished door. The smell of fire was still prominent in the air; it burned her lungs, flooding her eyes with tears. Her eyes had wandered around the hallway- or what was left of it. The staircase lied crashed down, the wall to the living room was corroded by the flames. As she had walked in there, her head had started to spin- till she had seen the broken frame on the floor. Picking it slowly up, she had examined the half-burned family photo.

Hilal had not realized how she had fled outside. But as she had, her eyes had fixed the spot where the Inspector had comforted her. Something was wrong in that picture, something evoked her reluctance. The confusion run through her veins, growing her distress. Confusion. When sorrows came, they came not single spies, but in battalions*. Never, before had she felt the truth of those words like that day.

Realizing that she would not fall asleep again, she left the bed for good. The young woman didn't pay much attention as she put on her clothes. Making sure that the window was closed, she left the Daruhane from the back-door.

In the early morning hours, the streets were empty. The cool morning-wind whirled her hair like golden wheat beneath her scarf. Soon the peace of a new broken day would be chased away by the people and their business. The wind would carry the voices and sounds to other places, creating a disturbing cacophony. Disturbing maybe only for her ears. Walking for some time she sat down on a bench at the seaside. Gazing at the waves and their fierce movements back and forth, she tried to rest. Frantically she covered her face with her hands. Nothing would bring Hava back, nothing would indemnify the loss her parents suffered. A shadow moved beside her, making her blood run cold. But the known voice reassured her.