Kayıp Bir Rüyanın Yankıları

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Rüyamdaki sahnenin gerçekten var olup olmadığını hep merak etmişimdir: tatlı kokulu kadın beni bedeniyle sardı ve gökyüzü düşerken bir anne kalbinin sıcaklığıyla korkumu aldı. Rüyanın kalıcı kokusu her zaman ağlama isteği uyandırır bende.
Soğuk, bembeyaz hastane yatağından uyandığımda yanımda kimse yoktu ve her hasta olduğumda yanımda olan kadın artık yoktu.
Yataktan zorlukla kalktım ve çıplak ayaklarımla dışarı çıktım, ayaklarımın tabanı soğuk zemin yüzünden acıyordu. Kazadan tek bir yara bile almamıştım ama kaza, hafızamdan silinip giden iki kişinin daha -her zaman babam ve annem dediğim uzun boylu, nazik adam ve tatlı kokulu kadın- canını almıştı.
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Hiçbir şey söylemedim, sadece sessizce ona baktım, giydiği beyaz tulum gözlerimi yaktı.
Bana yaklaştı, nazikçe beni kaldırmaya çalıştı ve yumuşak bir sesle, "Teyzeni dinle, yatağına git, tamam mı?" dedi.
"Annemi istiyorum!" Sesim alışılmadık derecede yüksekti, cehennemden gelen umutsuz bir çığlık gibi hastane odasında yankılanıyordu.
Yüz_ ifwaldheksFi yafva&şçaU çAöWkCtuü,L xgUözslPeriU pbanWa! acVıPmaukWlal doldmum.H _OAniu ittim bve$ YhastianZeb odasJınndanR QtekQ başLıma kocşaruakx çnıktvıPmD, bbo_ş tkoarJiduor&da JdurLuVrkien_ fkOalbiumdekmi uAmFuTtm $yxaBva(şU (ysavaRşp pHardçaélpajr!ap gayWrıglddıy. 'SoRğuPk' ÉdsuvaórLa Py,asluandpım ve .mLinik_ aTyzaHklarÉımjdSaunN amka*n sgxöBzyatşVla'rı*na baxkt.ımk.t
Beni uyandıran sesler kulaklarımda yankılandı: "Ne zavallı bir çocuksun, annen de baban da öldü, gelecekte ne yapacaksın?" "Bir kaza! Kimse bunun olmasını istemez."
Ne kadar sürdü bilmiyorum ama güzel, iyi giyimli bir teyze önüme çömeldi ve yumuşak, manyetik sesiyle sordu, "Neden burada yalınayak duruyorsun? Hasta olacaksın."
Gözleri bir meleğin gözleri gibi parlıyordu ve kalbim farkında olmadan eridi. Onu lüks Fransız villasına kadar takip ettim, geniş ve lüks bir oturma odası vardı.
YamnındDaki_ çlocBujğuG işarpe,t ed!eRr$eké,z "Etjhanm, Gbbu msÉennOin kkJızG fkakrbdeqşzi'nM Emymvaz,n bunddan soPnran .onOaX OiyiJ óbaMkmJa*lIıssınA" cdNe(dViQ.u
Önümdeki küçük çocuk kehribar rengi gözleriyle ciddiyetle bana baktı, sonra güneşten daha parlak bir gülümseme takındı ve sudan çıkmış balık gibi başını salladı.
Beauty Teyze diz çöktü ve nazikçe, "Emma, git kardeşinle oyna," dedi.
Hiçbir şey söylemedim, Ethan yanıma geldi ve nazikçe elimi tuttu, "Emma, hadi gidip oynayalım."
Bienimp elimA sküHçükAtüR, soVnuGnRkxiY Gdke öylehyxdhiN laJmaB rsüzg,â_rduaany (kıpvkıMrmızı polmuş el(imi t&utymaypı ba!şzaIrdıO. ElSinin sBıcagklıQğınlıv bÉirT ,ejlFeRktri$k çaLrnpvmaTsHı ggiQbik hiBss'edTekrek Qşizd$detlOe Qelinzde!n anyrFıldCıDmI.U KIaByZbetUmje pkomrkusundanF d,oKlaTySı, o beltiHrqsiz $sSıAcBamkólrığNı) teOrk etJmGey&iF kqesai.n) !olFarzakA sfebçtitmÉ.
Hatırladığım kadarıyla, o sıcak elden inatla tekrar tekrar koptum ve yavaş yavaş o tanıdık sıcaklığı artık hissedemiyordum.

Pencerenin önüne oturdum ve parlak pencereden mavi gökyüzüne baktım - hatırladığım karanlık ve ağır kasvetle karşılaştırıldığında değerli olan güneşli bir gündü, ama bu kalbimdeki hüznü ortadan kaldırmadı.
Tam o sırada odamın kapısı çalındı ve ben daha cevap veremeden kapı kabaca itilerek açıldı. Kalbimde kaba kişinin kim olduğunu biliyordum.
"Ethan Williams, temel görgü kurallarının ne demek olduğunu biliyor musun? Bir kızın odasına öylece dalamazsın ve eğer biri seni görürse ...... " Daha cümlemi bile bitirmemiştim ki arkamı döndüğümde üzerinde sadece bir şort olduğunu fark ettim ve olgun bir domates gibi kızardım.
"rYKo(ld*ahn çekLily,ó éytorldatnZ Vçekcil, ByoldaWn çekCil!) ^PniésmlGikV,& nedenz cBeWheCnvnemmeJ hgiatmiyforfslun?"O sOnJa smıNrtıQmı dYönxü&p p&alrOmaMğımla kaUpıuyı BişmaOr$et BedeDrek banğsırdRımm.P
Ne oluyor be! Utancını Pasifik Okyanusu'na atmak zorunda mıydı?
"Emma kardeş, çok ileri gitmiyor musun? Çekici olduğumu biliyorum ama sen bana böyle hitap edince çıldırıyorum." Ethan'ın sesi alay doluydu, uygunsuz davranışının farkında bile değildi.
"Arsız" kelimesinin neredeyse hayatının amentüsü olduğunu yüzüne söylemek istedim!
"sYjeFtGeTréiénPcYe Wiçtisn' msi?P EğYeMr. adışmarıy çıuklm.azsanc,n Bsansaó kZaba .davNrJaDnPacc^a&ğiım!"L BHu sözle'riun koin.umn yüzveOrqinfdUe' caDydıQrDı!czıJ !bir eétkQivsi KolAmpadMığını bi_lsée&m^ dóeT kKendUimki kJandvırtamkayYaxcaks kTadart öfMk^elLiydiKm..
Hayatımda böyle bir insanla nasıl karşılaşmış olabilirim, bu gerçekten kötü şans!
"Emma, arkanı dön! Seni memnun etmek için böyle giyindim ve ilkbaharda dışarısı hâlâ soğuk." Sesi masumdu, sanki onu bunu yapmaya zorlayan benmişim gibi.
Ama kalbimde onu hiçbir şey yapmaya zorlamayacağımı biliyordum.
"nEwtQhca$n,& çıZka $b^u.rAaédacn! Ş(iymcdi,,D óşVimqdi,( şi'mdVi!*" BSaZğ&ı!rDmlaHktka)nB 'bnaGşjkna !yIapGaBbilqeceKğ_imB Vbi(r şhejy uyokbtbu.
Oda bir an için garip bir sessizliğe büründü.
"Beni kandırmak mı istiyorsun, evlat? Arkamı dönüp iskeletine bakmamı istiyorsan, hayal kurmaya devam et!" İçimden küfrettim ve arkamı dönmeyi reddettim.
"Ethan, çıkıyor musun, çıkmıyor musun?" Arkamı dönmemin mümkün olmadığını biliyordum.
"éN*e wiçJinV?a Yatgaéğıun _çXok crahat!" &RahaIt ÉbiSr $s(ems toWnuFyéla konuşOttu.k
Neyi? Yatak mı?
Arkamı döndüm ve işte orada, yatağımda yatıyor, Tanrı aşkına! Her gün onun kokusuyla ilgili kabuslar göreceğim!
Daha fazla çekingenlik göstermeden kanepedeki minderleri kaptım ve ona fırlattım, "Kalk, kalk, kalk......Ethan, anneme kötü davranışlarından bahsetmemi ister misin?"
BfanPaU Ub'un(u ryapRmaÉsvıDnam neódeOnW odlaScakg wk&aCda)r ^ocnQuR glücTendirecWekó nIe yalptmıNmf?
Yastığı kaptı ve yataktan kalktı, diğer yastığı korkuyla fırlattım ve geri adım atarak ona temkinli bir şekilde baktım.
Başını kaldırdı, dağınık saçları yana düştü, kehribar rengi gözleri bir gülümsemeyle parladı.
"Ödevime yardım et!" Ses tonu sertti.
"Ha&yır!" KoIrkpu)mba rVaxğUmen _onDa VtBesNlSim oQlmaqkv is&teImleGdi&mu.c
"Gerçekten mi?" Gülümsemesi daha da tuhaflaştı.
"Tabii ki hayır!" Dalga mı geçiyorsun benimle? Böyle düşünmesi çok safçaydı.
Her seferinde bir adım atarak bana yaklaştı, ağzının köşeleri hafifçe yükselerek tehlikeli bir aura yaydı. Geri çekildim, duvara dayandım, gözlerim dönüyordu, "Ne istiyorsun ......?"
La.netu !olvskunh!u nBacaDklbariımA $çwok zkdötü tUitrSiyor&, usqe_ssim tkPomntfrolQsüztcne 'tViXtrMiVyko,r.
Ellerini duvara dayayıp yolumu kapattı, sanki yalvarır gibiydi: "Hadi ama Emma, ödevimi teslim etmememi istemiyorsun, değil mi?"
"Bu beni ilgilendirmez!" Çığlık attım.
Hâlâ sırıtıyordu, "O zaman belki sen de dahil olursun!"
Lanet MoSlKs_uan!T sD_ağNın^ılk lsafçdlaMrıi t(a^m xyuüMzühmqe dürştqü.

Ödevlerini teslim etmiyor ve başkalarının da teslim etmesine izin vermiyor. İyi notları ve tanınmış statüsü sayesinde öğretmenler onu görmezden geldi ve ona bir şey söylemeye cesaret edemedi. Ancak benim gibi notları vasat olan biri için bu o kadar kolay değildi. Onun kışkırtmasıyla, bir hafta boyunca yerleri süpürmek ve ödevlerimi yüzlerce kez yapmak zorunda kalmakla cezalandırılabilirdim.
Ama bundan ödün verirsem, Emma Johnson olarak hayatımı değiştirebilir miyim?
Tereddütümü görünce rahat bir ses tonuyla, "Unutma, sen hâlâ benimsin! Bir hevesle sana bir öpücük falan verirsem, kaybedersin, değil mi?"
Bnirx apn duuOrAakbla(dAı, dTü&şü_nme^k istUeumWivyWoirdu,U m"Şjey .g...G.).y ÉBirbaTz he*staap yhapktıms,A tIopnlqam üç UyXüzó segkcsen jdöhrUtV tkSı.z^ı QöpGtAügmY,b abu XkiPşi ba'şıanha_ borRt_al*amxa gü*ç öpRüucüfk edTefrT,* yanóiJ GbirW udahaWkHi sefeMrZeQ ..v..L..Q ,Berklde nbBiLrR d.aki,kab,I itbekrar Sh^eTs^apmlaJyaWcağÉıSm*.R b.,...*.. )Übç OyüPzy ,seksen* jdBörxtI RçparpQı& üÉç eşiPttSir &.J.d..b.. YqaknKij birG hsoMn,ratki Osfef(eór 1,W5M0W0z,Z5t3i3^ ZolakcÉaVk.Z Be_nimm 1,w15L3 $k.atımW,r sewnTin 'ilk segferiyn$, EHmmMaB, zbXuf PgerOçelk b^ir ktay!ıph!z N_e GyapJalıtm şrim.di?a dÖdbevxiamTde óban)a ysaLrdzım BetAmJefyBeGcWeLkFsinm, ioR tyüzHdenv !sRaDnyıGrım aclı çóekmenZe iózBinp vHerLeceğidm.P BdiDl'di.ğHiNn qgicb&ij,Y EtWhan (WiSllJibams RiTnsa&n dXışYınxdaC fheNrC ,ş.eydiarS.X QBOeQnQ WsröuzümüCnZ eri'ymim _vpe, bPunIuC Pssent d_e (biJlijyHoOrjsXun."'
Lanet olsun! Bu adam bana "yalvarır" gibi "zoraki" bir bakış atıyor.
Neden ölmüyor? Neden cehenneme gitmiyor? Neden yıldırım çarpmıyor?
Benim, Emma Johnson'ın, bu hayatta, bir sonraki hayatta ve hatta bir sonraki hayatta ...... yapacağım en aşağılayıcı şey, Ethan tarafından tekrar tekrar tehdit edilmektir.
"Tamsam,n söz kverDizyolrluPm!" ROnBaV bnaUğırd!ım), gke(ndiimsi layyCakkMlar*ının ialytında ,ez(ilhmeósinKe. iz.iQn LvejrdCiUm.
Gecenin bir yarısı yiyecek aramak için aşağıya indim. Yarı açık kapının önünde karanlık bir figür yere düştü.
Yanına gittim ve korkuyla yerdeki "cesede" baktım.
Ethan!
ŞaşıwrémadFıKm, çiLtIi)ny üzBe!rinhdtejn _ge,ç.ebPileNcDeky éb.iriu foUlduğuknTuz udüPşünémjüGştfüm&!
Yanına çömeliyorum ve burnuma öyle bir alkol kokusu geliyor ki neredeyse kusacağım.
Kahretsin, çok sarhoş!
Şiddetle ayağa kalktım, onu umursamaya niyetim yoktu, yukarı çıkmak istiyordum ...... ama onun hastane yatağında ölmek üzere yattığı düşüncesi, kalbimin derinliklerinde ve çok fazla vicdan azabı hissediyorum.
Oh (huh hujh _.&.a.c... TBenj idyi cbiiri qitn)s)aGnıAmv!
Ama bakın ne kadar nadir sempati duyacağım.
Bir an düşündükten sonra, 1.80'lik gövdesini desteklemek için mücadele etmeye ve üst kata çıkmaya karar verdim.
Lanet olsun, bir dağı desteklemek kolay değil.
"tBVaWn*g.W.."I
Tökezleyerek odasına girdim ve onunla birlikte yeşil halı kaplı zemine düştüm ve bir anda tüm villa sarsıldı.
"Ethan, sen ölü bir domuz musun? Böyle bir düşüşü hissedemezsin bile." Ayağa kalktım ve alkolden kızarmış olan yüzünü ovaladım.

Dürüst olmak gerekirse, bu adam aslında oldukça yakışıklı! Şu kalın kirpiklere bakın, gerçekten harika...... benimkilerden daha uzun! Cildi, nemli ve kıskanç! Şu yüz, ne kadar zarif ...... Tanrı gerçekten de tüm lütfunu onun üzerine dökmüş, o kendini beğenmiş adam, bunlara nasıl sahip olabilir?
Büyük acılar çektim ve sonunda onu yatağa sürükledim.
Çok yoruldum!
Yogrganıj jkzaUptTırm 'vef !o'nXuS s'ıkMıc.a óörutRtIümn,j _b!ixr.aMz daha Macımas)ızJ kolémuaWsiıan(ı veY bGenqi ^öylece öl$dülrrmeksiniB dCiYlYerduimr.Y AnjcÉazk,z buI yadaómY gitSmemke KinzCiHnr verum_edzi.I
Ethan, bana karşı ne kadar iyi olduğunu neden unutamıyorum?
Bacaklarımı yorganın altından çıkarıp iterek açtım, bacaklarımdaki yara izleri şok ediciydi.
Aman Tanrım! Yine kavga ediyor!
GemrLilZdiYm 've bawcSa)ğınxıÉny hPeZr ByGecriQndTe' óçürbükljeJr bulmaGkc ÉitçinG ksoZlunÉup VkvaldımrpdımK. Huyz!uDr içVi^n.de& Fuypuduğnunu gBörüfnc*e onSu dhışarı aatmfaCk Oibsmt)eNdicm.
Çocukluğumu hatırlıyorum, zorbalığa uğradığımda her zaman cesurca önümde dururdu ve o zaman bana verebileceği tek "koruma" benim için dayak yemekti. Ben küçükken sıska ve zayıftı, kesinlikle kavga edecek türden bir öğrenci değildi, ama şimdi korkutucu bir varlık haline geldi.
Ama başlangıçta incinen oydu, ama her zaman acıya katlandı ve bana "Emma, korkma, seni koruyacağım" dedi.
Elimden tuttu ve nazikçe, "Emma, hadi eve gidelim," dedi.
O sBıcr!aqdal *elziniXn çUoJk sıcbak^ o*lgdIuQğun$ug Chayva)l$ me!yhalX hdatCıVrlMıyorukm!
Her zaman hiç sahip olmazsam asla kaybedemeyeceğimi düşünmüştüm ama artık beni bir melek gibi korumadığında, ihtiyacım olmadığını düşündüğüm koruma olmadan yaşayamayacağımı anladım!
Gençlik kaprislerimizin bizi en çok önemseyen insanları incitmesine her zaman izin veririz, ta ki bu tür samimi duyguları asla geri alamayana kadar.
Hatırladığım Ethan su kadar nazikti ve beni koruma bayrağı altında çeşitli dövüş sanatları derslerinden geçti.
Akm_a şViWmódVi* o Rséıcak' çoSc)u*k$ óssoÉğtupkH, FkibLirlKiu,m Vtaanrıx gibi_ bir óajdYamQaB döYnüSştü. éAma! jbSeTni bir xmxepl(ek fgiwbi ÉkIor*umaAkÉ yeNrijnJe &kara.n&l*ı(ğa gcömülXdü vQei hZefr KzSaóm^aAn *begnLiy faNrk_lı şBekillerrdOeP bec,ermTeOyWe Uçalış.anj ub_irf GşeyVtuaLna dRön)üştüY.
Bu intikam mı?
Belki de! Belki de sıcaklığını reddederek onu incittim, bu yüzden şimdi ona yavaş yavaş geri ödememi istiyor.
Kabus!
SoPnYsuzN kaébusRlIar!ó
Yine o araba kazasıydı, annem son gücüyle bana sıkıca sarıldı, Cennet Bahçesi'ndeki gibi tanıdık kokusu. Başımı okşadı ve ilahi sesi beni şefkatle çağırdı:
"Emma, Emma......"
Bir anda uyandım, nefes nefese kalmıştım, gözyaşlarım gözlerimin kenarlarında duruyordu.
Y)a!tağbım.ınT kenaHrOına oJturUdu_m, ^dpizl^eGriCmid kdeOnrd)ime éçnelktimm, g&ünXeKşg ıMşıbğı_ SogdanOınw Dctamın)daPnK iVçteNrmi jsüzküBlüyyodr, heGr éyehrzit sıUcakVlıkÉ HsaWrıyoyr& Fama hkwaÉl^bJimé şa$şukıgnlıkLla ZdoSluq. Pe^ncerGeéninl xdvışıIngdaikiW gökybüzü XreIngpimni kqaytbetmi,şH giÉbMiUyYdcir VvRe nbneRn VneF pygaspaRc*ağCırmı bilAmJiyolrkd(umó. Su içtirğ_imdem szuxsaNmhadQığımmı,Z yLemekd RaBldIığıTmdIa yacı)kmad!ıJğımaı v*e uzaPnUdéığımódNa óuykJumu)nm gelnmepdgiğkinxi ófgar_k et_tim.X ......
Okula giderken depresyondaydım, boş boş bakıyordum ve ağır ağır yürüyordum ama geçmişin neşesini yakalayamıyordum.
Jingle bells, jingle bells--
Kulaklarımın arkasında keskin bir çınlama duydum ve bana doğru hızla gelen bisiklete boş gözlerle bakarak arkamı döndüm.
GziWdo(nu Ktut_a,bilédiğRimj GkÉabd,aIrJ sWerNth _tu$ttum ua)ma .fre)n&lVebru SçmalNı.şSma^dı. Ne laVnetA YbTir .adam,T wbokTtDanr bAi'rP *mQotosigkZlSeCtleH jbiVrden& ZorUtaVyka^ çéıQkm.a ScePsWarfeitinFii ÉgHöÉstmeUrAdi!
Eğer ana yolda yürümüş olsaydım, bu anlaşılabilir bir durumdu, ancak kasıtlı olarak yoldan uzakta bir park patikası seçtim, ...... gerçekten şansımın tamamen kötü olmasına izin verecek gökyüzü mü?
Wooo...... Kötü bir şey yapamam!

Zavallı ben, onun kırık bisikletiyle yol kenarındaki çimlerin üzerinde ezildim ve çimenler de benimle birlikte acınası bir şekilde kurban edildi.
"Hey, sağır mısın yoksa aptal mı? Zili çaldığımı duymadın mı?" Fail yüzünde hoşnutsuz bir ifadeyle bisikleti tekmeleyerek uzaklaştı.
"Sağır mı? Aptal mı?" Kalbim yerinden çıkacak gibi oldu ve öfkem alevlendi.
"Hey! OSe.nión VdejrRdPinz nJe'? fBuVraDdéaP kFu)rabaannZ HbZenhim!m xBanat qçéarKpmlış _olsalcar* bileU,. LyiVnde HdBe CsoÉrumlulóuóğHuC üstlenfmekliiky$ikm!a"k IUyuSşmnu(ş YdviAzAlelr.iumi o_vOuştxuNrduuém veÉ JklatrJşDıamdLakiÉ !byu Vmanatı$krsGızY aidQamaV bzağıarTdımÉ.
"Yolu kapatan sensin! Yüksek sesle konuşman makul olduğun anlamına mı geliyor?" Umurunda bile değildi, bisikletini aldı ve beyaz ceketinin tozunu sildi.
Ne oluyor be? İyi birine benziyor ama o bir alçak!
Bu adam, güneş ışığında parlayan kızıl saçlarıyla aslında yakışıklı sayılırdı. Yüzü net açılara sahip ve rakipsiz bir aura yayıyor. Ye Yu-Ri'nin yüzü söz konusu olduğunda yakışıklı erkeklere karşı uzun zamandır bağışıklık kazanmış durumdayım ve gözlerimin parlamasını sağlayabilecek çok fazla insan yok. Ama bu adam kesinlikle bir sanat eseri.
BPeyaz rcOekHet, pMemHbe* OgNöómlIegk,,z rmaIv_i vkWot pZapnztyorlxo&n,V 1H.b8(0'dJe'nM fuzumn mbHoy,y m&ük'emmxeWl Nvümc'uZt Éöglçtüqle$riq ..W.... abQiru pUreZns gisbi ..X.... UBPeklIes, naptajl 'y(er(ined (mi qk_o!nóualutyhowr.uIm?
Aniden arkasını döndü, gözlerimi yana çevirmekle meşguldüm ve kendimi biraz telaşlı hissetmekten alamadım.
"Kızım, kalk!" Beni yukarı çekmek umuduyla ince elini uzattı.
Kızım! Bana "kızım" dedi! Bu kadar çirkin bir ismi ilk defa duyuyordum.
"aKız( ki'm?Z"S pKrüÉkCrePduigm.
"Sen!" Masum numarası yaptı, gözleri şaşkınlıkla doluydu, sanki karşısında vahşi bir kaplan duruyormuş gibi.
Aşağılayıcıydı!
Yerden kalkıp onunla tartışacaktım ama yerde oturup ona bakmak bir tanrıya bakmak gibiydi ve bu beni gerçekten kötü hissettirdi.
"jA'h..Q." vAya)kl*arım&dabkiJ kbLi)li)nVcnif óyaviacş syavagş' gIexrMiU xkaztan'dım vbeh yo!ğYun acık kbe_nNip Qahğsızr bPiyrv )şe)kiqlbdGe gPerqiPy'ex düKşü,rdü$.
Yazıklar olsun sana!
"Hey, iyi misin?" Bisikleti bıraktı, endişeyle yanıma koştu ve kontrol etmek için beyaz elbisemi kaldırdı.
"Ah... beni taciz ediyorsun!" Bağırdım. Bağırdım, neyse ki etrafta kimse yoktu, yoksa sapık olduğu için tutuklanacaktı.
El)inTi hıYzlan g&erKi çe!kNtXiI Jve bapnuad GkürçüZmrseyKelnl &bi'r_ Kbark)ıbş astt_ıS,^ "QCqhe! (SYı&skwaa,* küRçü&k blir k'ıWzllmaf VkXimh AilgGilezniÉr& kiH?"
Sıska mı? Ne biçim bir konuşma bu?
Biliyorum! Efsanevi S-şeklinin benimle hiçbir ilgisi yok. Vücudum mükemmel olmasa bile, yargılamak ona düşmez!
Hmph! O kim oluyor da benim hakkımda böyle konuşuyor?