Afife

I do not know how many times I repeat this lie to myself because I am stronger. My arms were shaken as much as I could not count, I gave shoots again every season, this time I gushed fresh and more, even though there is no blood flow from my interrupted childhood; it was my hopes, my lost dreams and my shattered childhood, the dying ghost on the ground ...

and mine

Maybe because it was cut and mowed in the first seven, so my strong arms lose their feminine naivety as I carry the invisible ghosts of all those burdens on my shoulders, which are larger than my peers, but my body is not so scary, actually I am Afife, a woman at only forty-seven, panting in the vindanvic chase on the grass in the spring of my childhood. I am free as the sky I flew desperately by wrapping my tired body in a cloud clustered above my head ... even though my body is a prisoner, I still fly in that sky

I wore my wedding dress at fourteen, my wedding dress was the same as my dress, which I never took away from me, with its lace skirts with puffy sleeves from elbows to ankles just like I played in my dreams

My wedding dress was twenty years older than myself, İhsan ... that night ... that is because he got very angry with me on my wedding night, he broke up in his hands. .Ayşe my diaper baby ... still hidden in my dowry chest, İhsan brother

When he threw it on the wall saying "let my eyes see this disgusting thing", it is still there dark and desolate like the night I hide, it waits for its light with hope like me, never ending…

İhsan... my father's relative, I learned that he was my husband on my wedding night. I'm still afraid that he is my husband.

Actually, I am neither afraid of ghosts, nor of the demon, only of him, as I was still on my first night.

I look at the mud-brick walls of a rundown house in the town of Pazarcık in Karahisar, and when I close my eyes, I meet with my millions of dreams, wandering around completely different worlds.

I love to dream, we travel country by country with my doll, we find fairyland

But I never dreamed that a comedy I thought was a game would take me to the dungeon and doom

my arms and hands are weak

I am a defenseless and weak child

They imprisoned me in a game, I got entangled as I wanted to get rid of it, my life suffocated me with every breath I took in chains ...

Childish dreams we imagined in the house game I played with my cousin Filiz ... I wish I had always stayed with Filiz in my memories.

I'm sixteen and I can't play toys because I gave birth to a baby and it was hard and I nearly died.

She's not a toy like Ayşe, but a living flesh and bone baby

Do you know what is the most difficult?

My husband İhsan touches my small body while sleeping at night.

when the desires of bestowal my body is exhausted, I sleep on the other side of the bed and I breathe a sigh of relief

I am afraid that his big boned hands will kill me when he starts to touch my body, I tremble when I see that I fear him, I get angry and put his hands together in my throat.

He says, "If you cry or shout, I will kill you," and I am silent about the torture that seems to me to last forever.

While my body hurts, I am always silent.

Have you ever seen demons in the image of your mother or father in your dreams?

I always have nightmares in my dreams ... my family ...

April 1978…. I watch the bedding piled in a corner as I watch the flames of the kerosene lamp on the walls of our adobe house.

These are the sheep wool bed quilts made by my mother as a gift, only two feet above the height of a human being, and they touched the ceiling made of reed and earth.

The room also stands like a monster stretched from the chest to the ceiling, as the flames of the kerosene move, the shadows that appear in the room take shape with my imagination, the twilight plays a horror movie

in my mind

With a little fear, I get stuck even further into the mattress, I wish it was Ayşe in my arms now.

I'd be a little relieved, but I'm afraid to take him out of the box where I was hiding.

If my husband İhsan gets angry again, he will rupture him.

The dream world that I am immersed in is suddenly transiting into another world of fear with the sudden opening of the wooden door.

As I watch the man timidly in the dim dark, who looks like he will destroy everything he touches with his big, coarse hands, I hold my breath so as not to breathe the stink of drink and sweat coming towards me.

I immediately close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

As I start to breathe regularly and comfortably, that disgusting smell fills my lungs with my breath.

The two days that passed after my wedding night became a little more malleable.

He had been avoiding touching me for two days, I think he was afraid that the morning of that night all the blood on my body would flow through my legs and turn the bed into a blood pool.

When he woke up and saw me like that, he quickly got up and brought the oldest midwife of the village, Hasibe, grandmother with me.

While I was lying half asleep, half unconscious, with no cure on my knees,

Hasibe wrapped a porridge made with granny herbs and placed it between my legs.

I was in such a relaxed state that my eyes closed again with that peace, and as the things spoken beside me began to be just a murmur, I surrendered myself to the sleep that pulled me into my arms with compassion ...

It's as if my life will end in a white room the size of a matchbox.

I am in an exhausted and tired wait.

Even though my tireless childish rush is still playing in me, I still breathe, shaking and dying like the flame of a truly exhausting kerosene lamp.

My gaze is looking for something all over the room, but not knowing what I'm looking for, I'm just lying on the mattress in two folds.

I watch the sun play naughtyly with the cloth curtain through the window, which resembles a narrow rectangular shape, without caring any of my belongings in this bed. I am not able to stand up to turn off the lamp.

You will burn until the kerosene that is about to be consumed in it, I am already very tired, I don't know whether it is from all the blood I lost or my luck standing like a huge mountain on my shoulder.

I watch the worn flowers of the cloth curtain, the flowers scattered around, some of them still blooming in the bud, some of them colorful, delicate like wildflowers on the hills I once loved, but also unfortunate just like the ones who loved them….

We weren't as lucky as the flowers my mother grew in her window, me and my favorite wildflowers.

Everyone rudely chewed and crushed us.

Nobody thought about whether there was life there.

My mother did not like the flowers she grew in her pot as much as she liked, did not protect and protect us.

My brother Ömer's struggle while collecting the pot that he dropped is still in front of my eyes, he read every curse on my poor brother while he was putting the earth in handfuls of pots.

Ömer, the smallest of the house, resembles a rabbit with his small nose and chubby red cheeks.

Every time my mother's slipper meets her goal, she is put on my lap, crying.

There is always a secret bond between me, Ayşe and Ömer.

Since he knows how much I love Ayşe, that naughty boy will not hurt her at all ..

His concern is always the cat of the house and my mother's flowerpots.

Maybe because my mother loved them more than us, the child was jealous and taking revenge on her mind, but my mother would never protect us as much as she protected her flowers in the pot.

I feel a warmth in my heart, which is a little relieved as I think of Ömer.

The longing is bubbling inside me I don't know how long it has been, I was locked in this damn room.

Maybe I say when I get better, I will go to see Ömer.

Will Ihsan allow?

I don't know, the room beneath the vulgar body ultimately carries a heart, I silence the negative thoughts in my brain in case I feel sorry for my state and allow me to see my family.

Omar vallahi my charcoal-eyed rabbit ... missed me as I miss him….

I suggest myself by saying that I have to be good to see him. If I behave Ihsan will definitely send me to our house.

If he doesn't send, I have to find a way and make plans to escape, but my dad will ruin me for running away.

Can I bear the same frustration, exhaustion, again? I do not know ....