My sister’s room smelled of medicine and bleach, her heart monitor beeped painfully slowly, each one reminding me it could be the last. They’d put several tubes down her throat, enough that I wanted to yank a few out to let her breathe, though I guess that would be counter intuitive. I need to leave this place or I’ll go crazy.
I still can’t understand how it happened. One second, we were fighting about the mess she left my apartment in and the next, I was pressing down on her neck to stop the bleeding, begging people passing by to call for help. All paralysed in fear, all useless. I’m still in shock at the amount of blood that can fit into a person, I mean she’s so small, to the point that we used to tease her as a family about her height. How can that much blood be in someone?
Patients and loved-ones alike looked at me like I was crazy as I walked around the hospital hall, trying to find an exit for a much-needed smoke. An ambulance stood there, its bone-white doors open and bleeding paramedics rushing to get a young boy no older than ten inside on a stretcher. His parents were running after them in tears, begging them to save him.
“Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” I turned towards the voice, it was a tall and elegant older woman wearing a black dress with assorted gold bangles and a pearl necklace. She must live in a fancy mansion with one of those really puffy white cats that doesn’t leave her lap.
“What do you mean?”
She chuckled, “That boy is going to die.”
I almost dropped my cigarette. “Do you have a light?”
“It’s unhealthy to smoke,”
“It’s also unhealthy to lose this much blood,” I gestured at my outfit, “Do you have a light?”
She shot me an exasperated look and handed me a gold lighter engraved with floral patterns and someone’s initials. I admired it for a few seconds before flipping it open and taking a long drag. The static noise in my head died down for a few seconds as the smoke filled my lungs, curing the migraine that had been making me want to scoop my eyes out with each puff.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that” she reached into her purse and took out one of those golden cigarette holders you see in old movies. “So whose blood is that?”
I stared at the floor, “My younger sister’s, we were attacked on the street.” She nods in acknowledgement before handing me Werther’s candy. “I didn’t take you for that kind of old lady.”
She chuckled and told me it comes with age.
“Why are you here?” She looked incredibly out of place with her styled hair, manicured nails, jewellery and very expensive dress, but I guess even the rich are struck with tragedy at times.
“My husband went into cardiac arrest.”
“The doctors here are really good, I’m sure that he’ll be fine.” I don’t know whether I was trying to comfort her or myself, a cardiac arrest is better than substantial blood loss but then again, her husband must be quite old, I don’t know if his body can take whatever treatment he needs.
Before the old lady could respond, doctors and nurses started running inside as the words “Code Blue” followed by my sister’s room number echoed in the hospital. I ran in with them. I must’ve flown across the hospital, I don’t even remember how I got to her room. All I could see was a team of doctors and nurses huddled around her, prodding her with needles and getting the defibrillator ready. I froze as I watched the machine pull at my sister’s chest. I tried to go inside the room, to hold her hand in her last moments but I was met with an ocean of nurses pushing me out, their cold latex-wrapped hands pushing at my back as I heard the word “clear” over and over again. I tried to barter with the nurse guarding the door, to offer her money I didn’t have, making threats I knew were empty, all to just be let in. She told me to stay out of their way or they’ll remove me from hospital grounds, I told her I’d bite out her throat. The bitch locked the door in my face.
I punched the wall before sitting down and praying for the first time in my life. I prayed to Allah that my sister would be safe, that the doctors would manage to save her life and we’d be able to laugh about this someday in our own little twisted ways. I prayed that this was a nightmare, that I’d wake up in a second and all would be well. I googled different deities of health and medicine and implored them to save my sister, promised I would convert to their religion if she made it through.
Before I could even register what was going on, a long continuous beep shattered everything I stood for. Doctors and nurses walked out of my sister’s room with a look of defeat on their faces. One of them walked towards me and said the words I’d been dreading “We did everything in our power, I’m so sorry for you loss.” I don’t remember anything that happened after, all I know is that my ears were ringing and my surroundings sounded like I was submerged in water before it all went black.
I woke up to the sharp smell of ammonium under my nostrils and the warm, familiar feeling of sore knuckles. There was a needle mark in the space between my elbow and forearm with brown leather straps tightly attached to my wrists. I was told the police would be here soon. It doesn’t matter, my sister is dead.
A nurse walked in, hesitant and clutching a platter of rice, beef-chickpea stew and ayran. He set it down in front of me before leaving the room. I stared at my platter, perfectly portioned out with utensils laid to the side. I couldn’t eat it even if I wanted to.
Another nurse walked in. “Nobody unstrapped your arm?” She was older, with wrinkles carved into her face and a hard expression translating years of dealing with unruly patients.
“I’m not hungry.”
She glared at me for a split-second before her expression changed into a fake smile, “We had to sedate you, you might feel nauseous and tired for the next few hours, you’ll be discharged tomorrow and the police will take it from there. Is there anyone we can call to inform them of your situation?” She reached down to untie my right wrist.
“I’m left handed.” I waited for her to untie my other wrist to no avail. “Don’t play nice with me. You failed to save my sister and called the cops on me.”
She left my wrist as is before turning to leave. “You’re lucky the hospital isn’t pressing charges.”
What a cunt.
I reached for my phone to find seventeen missed calls from my parents. Fuck. How am I going to tell them that Fidan is dead? How am I going to tell them that I couldn’t do anything as that man sliced my sister’s neck? We were literally arguing about keys for god’s sake. We’re not even kids anymore, who cares if she left my apartment in a mess, we’re both adults, who care about a mess.
I felt an immense weight on my shoulder as hot tears fell into my untouched platter. What am I going to do? How am I going to tell my parents that their daughter is dead? That it’s partially my fault? The old lady from earlier walked in with a sombre expression on her face and mascara running down her chin. She sat down at the foot of my bed. “May she rest in light.”
I let out a coarse laugh. “What she’s resting in is a fucking body bag in the hospital morgue with vultures trying to peck at her organs to save someone else’s life.”
My phone rung once again. I answered it only to hear my mother sob uncontrollably and scream about how this could’ve happened. I guess the hospital found a way to notify her. “Are you at the hospital too? Are you injured? Did you see the attacker?”
“I’m in room 406, I’m sorry.” I heard the phone drop followed by a click. I could almost hear my parents getting in the car, pressing on the gas pedal and missing every red light to get here. I don’t want to deal with this. I wrapped myself in the covers and went to sleep with the old lady staring at me, humming this soothing tune in a language I didn’t recognize. She must be rum.
A sudden gust of wind swept off my covers, robbing me of my warmth and ripping the hinges off my windows. My door flew open, I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see my parent’s expression, not wanting to hear their cries. That moment never arrived. When I opened my eyes, I was faced with the terrifying reality that they had frozen in time. They were perfectly still, my windows were stuck in the air and the leaves that had entered my room were hanging in the air almost too perfectly. I felt like the old lady and I were the only live people in the world at that moment.
“What the fuck?” I looked at her to find what I can only describe as a bag of skin, bones, blood and muscle on the floor. In her place sat a strange shadowy figure or a cool, black flame ready to engulf me at any second.
I’m not religious, I hadn’t even prayed up until the moment of my sister’s death, and now stood in front of me what I can only describe as a jinn, demon or perhaps even Death itself. Surely it must be some sort of cruel joke, a fucked up flash mob that would end with my sister jumping out of the crowd to reveal that she was in fact alive, that this was some elaborate prank she had organized to teach me a lesson. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Death had stolen her from me and was now laughing in my face.
I reached for the figure, which moved back instinctively. “Do you always try to touch people you’ve just met?” Its voice was cold and gritty, like the sound the soil makes when you stick a shovel in it.
“Only the ones that shed their skin suit in front of me.” I lunged at the thing, whatever it was was my only hope at getting my sister back. “What are you?” I wrapped my hands around it, only to grab nothing. I kept my hand in the thing and watched in horror as the tips of my fingers went black and my palm shrivelled in on itself like it was actively rotting. I pulled out my hand instinctively and sighed in relief as it went back to normal save for a numbness.
“How do I bring Fidan back?”
“Why, by dying of course.” What I assume to be the figure’s shoulders shook as it let out a laugh-like noise.
“I’m not making my parents suffer through the loss of a child twice. Tell me how to get her back.”
“I have nothing to gain from telling you.”
Whatever this thing was, it was taking pleasure from seeing me suffer, I could almost see it in its beady little eyes, sense the malice in them as it eyed me. No matter, I fell to my knees and stared the thing in the face, pride be damned. “I’m begging you!” I gasped for air, desperately trying to grab the thing, watching my hands deteriorate as I did so. “Please, I’ll do anything!”
© 2026 C. H. Gökdemir. All rights reserved.
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