Looking For His North Star

Chapter nine

It looked like desperation.

"I love you ...", He said.

Seher wanted to smile. She knew. And she loved him too- with her every breath. She opened her mouth to say her own confession but no sound came out.

Instead, she raised her hand.

She was holding a gun. A heavy gun that felt alien in her hand.

Yaman smiled.

What was happening?

"I love you", Yaman said again.

Then she pulled the trigger.

He fell back, still smiling, a neat bloody circle etched into his chest.

Seher woke up, gasping for breath, almost knocking off the pictures on her nightstand. She looked around, feeling the wetness of tears on her cheeks.

She was still in their room. Yaman was still stretched out next to her, sleeping peacefully. The faint glow of the nightlight smoothened the sharp planes of his cheeks, making him look young. Seher concentrated on his breathing, trying to slow down her racing heart.

It was just a nightmare...

Only it felt too real and vivid to be a nightmare. Nowadays, she couldn't explicate between memories and dreams, clearly. She had to rely on her emotions.

Seher swallowed hard. Her emotions were all over the place. The fear in her heart was real and the metallic taste of guilt burned on her tongue.

What if...

She caressed Yaman's hair lightly. Then she reached over and pulled down his shirt a little bit, exposing his chest. Her hands trembled.

There, just a little right to his heart, a raised scar remained, shaped like a bullet wound. This time Seher did knock out their wedding picture from the nightstand, thus waking up Yaman with a snap.

"What? What?" He blinked at her sleepily. "What's wrong?"

Seher was breathing hard. It couldn't be a coincidence. It couldn't be a coincidence that she had a dream of shooting him right in the place where he had a scar.

"Seher..." Yaman breathed, his voice concerned. "Are you okay?"

Her gaze was focused on his chest as if she could see the scar through his shirt. She recoiled from his outstretched hand.

"Did you see a nightmare?" He sounded fully awake now.

Seher shook her head. She wiped at her tearstained face.

"I..." She hiccuped. "I shot you, didn't I?"

Yaman stilled, his expression smoothing over. "Pardon?"

"I shot you", she repeated. "In the chest. With a gun. Me!"

"You just saw a nightmare..."

"Say I didn't do it!" She gasped. "Say I didn't shoot you!"

His silence was more than an answer.

Seher slid down from the bed and reached for the door, sobbing hard. She'd shot him. She'd shot the man she loved, in cold blood. God, who was she?

"Seher!" Yaman called from behind her but she ignored him, opening the door and plunging into the darkness.

She thought she was a good person. They treated her like she was a good person! All the while she had blood on her hands. Her own husband's blood!