Istanbul Noir by Mustafa Ziyalan; Amy Spangler

Author:Mustafa Ziyalan; Amy Spangler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Detective and mystery stories, Istanbul (Turkey), Anthologies (multiple authors), Turkish, ebook, Fiction, Noir fiction, General, Short Stories, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781933354620
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2008-01-15T08:13:44.527188+00:00

PART III

IN THE DARK RECESSES

ONE AMONG US

BY YASEMN AYDINOLU

Samalcılar

“I will flog the piss out of you, you hear me, you mother-fuckerrr!” he bellowed above me. I thought my ear-drums would burst. I was begging, dying, my knees trembling. The bones, the joints of my hands, had turned to putty.

“Brother, I swear to God, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t!”

They were yanking my head back by the hair on the scruff of my neck and dunking it into the bucket. I couldn’t count how many they were. Each time I held my breath as long as I could. I let it out bit by bit, but it was no use. I couldn’t take it anymore. I inhaled some water through my nose. The salt singed my nostrils, scorched my throat. My eyes burned. They were dunking my head into something, something heavier than water, oilier than water, saltier than water, but what was it? It was like seawater, like tears, what they were trying to drown me in. This time he pushed me hard, harder, into the water, by the back of my neck. I struggled, I cried. You could drown in a fucking spoonful of water. What the hell did I know? What the hell was I doing here?

A crackling sound exploded in my ear. Suddenly, I woke up. I was in the prison ward. The music broadcast had started. Orhan Gencebay buzzed through the speakers: “May I be damned if I’ve forgotten you, if I’ve found another lover.” A dream? It was all a fucking dream, goddamn it. I touched my face, felt the tears still there. My balls and my chin ached from the spasms, from the crying. I’d never been so happy to wake up in this ward. I headed straight for the toilet upstairs, cutting a path through the pungent scent of urine. I didn’t want to let on that I’d had a bad dream. Sixty of us all living together in the same room; sixty people under the constant surveillance of fifty-nine. Somebody’s bound to catch on to your soft spot. My biggest fear, ever since I was a kid, was for someone to be able to read my mind.

But then I really shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve got a penchant for finding myself in the craziest situations. I remember the day I arrived here, for example. They unloaded us from the van, I raised my head, and, Goddamn it, Ahmet! I say to myself. You just stepped in a pile of shit! Now lift your fucking foot. The walls of Samalcılar Prison lay before me. Surrounded by white houses, the place sticks out like a bruise on the skin of a pale lady. Shit had gotten real serious real fast. And to think that dude I jumped with a knife was only packing a hundred bucks. Asshole! Hardly compensation for the price I’d have to pay. Made an absolute fool out of me. And if things keep up like this, I’ll be a disgrace until the day I die.

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