Wednesday, 17 August 2011

to take care of her, if she was ill. That was one reason why she wanted to declare her love for Kamal. She wanted to have somebody to take care of her, when in need. She had spent too long a period of her life without anybody by her side. Too late, but still it wasn’t too late for her. She was a smart lady who would suit standing by side of Kamal, the artist from Karachi, Pakistan.

She wanted to send Kamal a message. “I know he must be very worried, due to my absence for these days, but he should wait a bit more. After all I have got a very big disclosure that I would make to him, which is worth waiting,” she said to herself, laughingly.

She was still pressing the fingers of her one hand by the other. She was not hundred percent fit.  She turned towards the bathroom and started the CD player. Her favorite song by Sevval San was there. She started singing with her. She was too happy.

But at the same sense she was in a hurry too. A unique unexplainable feeling was disturbing her from inside. She was feeling, as if somebody was coming, or as if something was going to happen. Her sixth sense had sensed something, which she could not understand at that moment.

Just two floors down from where Feriha was, Kamal was on the first step of the staircase. The laptop was hanging on his shoulder. Mehmet just a step behind him was smiling. Kamal could not see him smiling. Mehmet thought that this time he would not be worried about disposing the dead body.

He thought of the dead body of Deniz still lying in the deep freezer, waiting to be disposed off finally. Mehmet did not have any idea about that. He looked at the back of Kamal, just inches away from him. He had had to act fast if he wanted his plan to work. He moved.    

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