A Madman's Offense

A very big thank you to Kenji Sato for his work as an editor.

August 30, 1995.

It is the seventh day I have spent at the Black Plane Mental and Nervous Diseases Hospital. It is a rainy, gloomy night outside, signalling the end of summer. Raindrops are trickling down the faded-white iron bars of the window. There is deep darkness in front of me, just like my current state of mind. In the bed next to mine, my poor wardmate is weeping and moaning. Wet footprints mark the floor as I stand there, a slippery sensation upon my hands.

On the day I had first arrived here, I had told the doctor that I was seeing things that weren't there and hearing voices that no one else could hear. During my initial examination, he'd told me that I'd been experiencing a psychological breakdown after the accident and that staying here for a while might do me good.

The first day had been a bit rough. I admit that. The rest has been easier. I have gotten to know my surroundings and the people. There is Nurse Nalan, an overweight woman in her mid-forties who snores while sleeping at the nurses' station on nights she's on duty, having overindulged in food. Nurse Hale who cheats on her husband with Adnan the security guard, whenever she works the night shift. Non-functional security cameras, blind spots just a few details having been observed by someone with a lot of free time.

As for my life before being cooped up here my name is Burak. I am known in my community as a kind, helpful, harmless and honest person. Like every human being, I have my strengths and weaknesses no one in this life is perfect.

I am a twenty-nine-year-old man, 176 centimeters tall and weighing eighty-five kilograms, with light brown hair. My nose has been crooked ever since I'd fallen out of a fig tree as a child. I have never been handsome enough to be the object of girls' fantasies. I'd made the football team in high school but a blow to my knee changed my future plans and I graduated from university amidst difficult economic circumstances.

I grew up in a poor family. My parents had no other children after me because my father suffered from an illness. My late father worked in a canning factory for as long as his health permitted, and he barely managed to make ends meet for the family. He was of the old-school stubborn and often cantankerous yet he did everything he could have done for my mother and me. I earned my own school expenses by working in auto repair shops. After my father passed away, my mother moved to the village to live in my late grandmother's house.

I met Leyla, my thirty-year-old wife of three years, at a wedding of mutual friends. I was captivated by her beauty the first time I saw her. She was a total doll. She was approximately 164 centimetres tall. Her short, black hair was shiny. Her hips were round and shapely. She had full lips, pearly white teeth and a mischievous smile. Her large, oval green eyes hypnotized not just me but I imagine, every man who looked at her.

How she'd been affected by me is still a mystery. Maybe she likes ugly people; I don't know.

We became a couple just a week later. Leyla had a cheerful personality that drew people to her. She always stood out in a crowd. She was a very sociable person with a wide circle of friends. She was a confident woman who loved going to concerts and the theater. She loved wearing miniskirts and low-cut blouses. Because she has an independent nature, I never interfered with her in anything from the very beginning of our relationship.

Those who saw her with me would first look at her then at me.

"Burak you are my safe haven, I feel peaceful when I'm with you," she said.

We got married nine months later. I was surprised that everything happened so quickly.

Until the middle of January, I worked as a manager at a logistics company. My salary was excellent and I had a company car at my disposal. For someone who had lived a poor youth, it was like a dream. Unfortunately, I was fired for getting into a fight with a significant customer of the company. Since then I hadn't been able to find a job in my own sector. I'd been working as a taxi driver for the past few months.

My wife works as an assistant manufacturing manager at a pharmaceutical company. We hadn't faced any financial difficulties since we got married. I earn less than I used to. To be fair, she hadn't said a single word about money since I lost my job. Leyla's family was wealthy. My father-in-law retired from the Ministry of Finance. I wouldn't want to judge but he must have done something shady back in the day. The house he owned, the one we lived in the summer house and the car were not things you could have bought on a civil servant's salary.

Our families and the people around us were pressuring us to have a baby but Leyla still had some reservations. It wasn't about our relationship. She just said she wasn't ready. I hadn't really pushed the topic of having a baby lately because she'd been stressed out at work.

At the end of June the company where Leyla worked downsized due to the economic crisis. Layoffs began. They were undergoing a restructuring process. Even the company's manager of twenty years Leyla's supervisor had been replaced. According to my wife, everyone was on edge, fearing they were going to lose their jobs at any moment. Consequently she and her colleagues were in no position to object to the heavier workload and increased working hours.

During this period, I didn't mind her coming home late from work a few times. It was a job after all. She wasn't going out for a trip or to have fun. There were no trust issues between us. I hadn't seen her behave inappropriately since we had gotten married. Our relationship and our intimate life were still passionate. I continued working, as well as long as the wheels kept turning, I was earning money.

One Thursday evening I dropped off my last client in a neighbourhood near my wife's company. Leyla was waiting for me at home. Their mothers were coming for dinner. I planned to return the car and head home without delay. As I drove past their company, a potential passenger hailed me. He was standing in front of a black Honda S2000. It was a car I really liked. Thinking that a customer is a customer. I pulled over.

I rolled down the window and explained my situation. He was a tall, handsome man in a suit. Pointing to his Honda, he said his car wouldn't start and that he needed to go somewhere no more than half an hour away. He got in the car and we started driving. He thanked me for picking him up. We started chatting along the way and I learned that he worked at the same company as Leyla. I didn't mention that my wife worked there. Perhaps I felt a bit embarrassed.

One topic led to another. We talked about the economy and cars. He said his name was Mert and that he had started the job a few months ago. When I had previously spoken with my wife she spoke highly of the new manager, Mert I felt a slight pang of jealousy. She had described him as a disciplined and visionary man. He had gotten into my taxi by chance.

Just as I was about to mention my wife, Mert laughed and said that he had divorced his wife around the beginning of February, was continuing life on his own, and was much happier. I asked him why he thought that.

Mert said, "This is better. I go wherever I want, I hang out with whoever I want. Freedom is something else entirely."

I told him "Marriage has its good sides too peace, security and a warm home."

Mert replied "You're right but it depends on the person. I haven't even been at this company for two months and I've already seen some pretty sordid relationships. You wouldn't believe it, there's a female employee of mine she's a stunner. Beautiful, sexy, but with no character. She's married and she tells her husband she's working late, but she flirts with me. Seeing things like that puts me right off marriage."

What he said made my blood run cold for a moment. I almost scraped against the car in the adjacent lane. I managed to regain control at the last moment. Mert got out a little further up the road and left me a generous tip. My mind was in turmoil. The woman he was talking about couldn't be my wife. Leyla wouldn't do this to me. I suppressed these thoughts when I entered the house but my soul was restless.

That week, when Leyla treated me with her usual warmth and affection, I was angry at myself for thinking such things. I knew my wife wasn't that kind of woman but still my suspicions grew stronger. The seed of doubt had already taken root.

A few days later in the late afternoon, while I was having tea with friends at the taxi stand Uncle Cüneyt who had retired from the job because his eyesight was failing, called out to me. Leyla had called the taxi stop. This was how she was letting me know she would be working late. I felt a tingling sensation inside. After returning to the station from a customer drop-off the idea came to me to both clear up my suspicions and give my wife a nice surprise. I bought her favorite sugary pastries.

I parked the taxi on a street near the company and walked the rest of the way. It had grown dark. Onur the security guard at the building entrance, recognized me and greeted me. Since I knew the way I walked down the corridor alone. Seeing the manufacturing section working was a bit reassuring. My wife hadn't lied about this. When foreman Faruk saw me, we shook hands. He said Leyla was upstairs.

He escorted me to the entrance so I could go up there. He opened the door with his digital card. I marveled at how far technology had advanced. He said goodbye to me, telling me he was finishing his shift. I went up the stairs to the upper floor of the two-story manufacturing section.

Unlike downstairs, the offices here were dark. A faint light spilled from a room at the far end of the corridor. I walked towards it with the package of pastries in my hand. As I took a few steps closer to the door, I heard Leyla's laughter.

Normally I would have knocked before entering but hearing the sound of laughter, I reached for the handle and slowly eased the door open. How could I have known that what I was about to see through that narrow opening would shatter my world?

"Oh, don't. Someone might come. We'll get caught." Leyla said.

"Nobody will come." Mert said laughing. "Have they ever come before?"

Mert was kissing her leaning her against the desk. Leyla had wrapped her arms around his neck and was returning the kiss. Time stopped at that moment. I froze. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice the door opening. Mert's hands were squeezing my wife's hips over her skirt.

He turned Leyla towards the table and made her bend over. He lifted her skirt sharply. He didn't care if it got wrinkled. His fingers brushed against her skin as he pulled down her underwear. He unzipped his pants, inserted his penis into my wife's vagina. Leyla let out a soft moan.

I was witnessing my wife's infidelity live but I couldn't move. My entire body had gone rigid. The only things working were my tear ducts. How did this happen? No warning. No reason.

Mert grabbed my wife by the hips and began fucking her harder and faster. Leyla was moaning. Just like she used to moan for me in our bed. It was clear this wasn't the first time they had done this. Who knew how many times she had cheated on me while lying to my face? Feelings of disappointment, hatred and disgust were swirling within me all at once.

Mert asked "How is it? Do you like it?"

Leyla answered him "Oh. Ah. It's so good baby. You fuck better than my husband."

I was being pierced by both what I saw and what I heard.

Mert groaned "I'm coming."

He came inside her amidst my wife's moans. He leaned against her. With expressions of lust on their faces, they stood there, breathing.

Mert asked "I came inside you. That won't be a problem right?"

"No. I have an IUD. Don't worry." Leyla replied.

I didn't know she had had an IUD inserted just another fact I'd learned about my wife. The urge to burst in on them and tear the place apart surged up from my feet to my forehead.

Just as I braced myself to take a step forward, a voice inside me said Don't. It was the voice I generally listened to. I slowly stepped back and moved away from the door. I took a deep breath the moment I stepped out of the building. İnside I had felt like I'd been suffocating.

With tears in my eyes, I walked towards the taxi. In a fit of anger, I threw the pastries I had bought for my beloved wife into a metal trash can. The metal box cut my hand. It was a deep wound yet it didn't hurt as much as the pain I felt inside. I returned to the taxi stand. There was no one there. Everyone had gone to work. Only Uncle Cüneyt was there.

He dressed my wound. He must have sensed my distress from the look on my face, for when he asked what had happened. I poured it all out weeping like a small child.

Cüneyt said, "It's a good thing you didn't do something stupid for someone who isn't worth it. You would have ruined your life. There are laws in this country. I never would have expected this from Leyla. Shame on her."

I told him that what we'd talked about should stay between us and that I wouldn't be coming to work for a few days.

When I entered the house I felt as though I had arrived somewhere that didn't belong to me. The events and memories had vanished. The lights in the living room were off and I just sat there on the sofa. I couldn't get what I had seen and heard out of my mind. My marriage had fallen apart. Why had my inner voice stopped me? I should have punished both of them there.

When Leyla returned home she smiled at me as always.

When she noticed my hand she anxiously asked what was wrong. I told her I'd had a minor accident. That show of compassion made my heart ache. Seeing her feigned sadness in her eyes devastated me even more. We slept in the same bed that night. I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking until dawn. Their voices echoed in my ears whenever I closed my eyes I could see them.

The next day my in-laws came to check on me. When Leyla told them I had been wandering around the house like a ghost all day. My father-in-law asked what was wrong. I told him I wasn't well and that I was hearing voices in my head so he took me to see a doctor friend of his. They ran a full battery of tests. When nothing physical turned up the doctor suggested I see a mental health specialist, noting that I had suffered a trauma.

On August 23rd, I read the name on the sign Black Plane Mental and Nervous Diseases Hospital for the first time. Leyla was holding my hand supporting me. I might have exaggerated a little during the doctor's examination. I wanted to get away from everything for a while. While my father-in-law and Leyla spoke with the doctor I looked around. I thought to myself. So I've ended up here.

The doctor advised me to stay there for about ten days. As Leyla said goodbye to me she told, she loved me and would visit me whenever she had the chance. On the first day the walls of that white hospital room felt like they were closing in on me. I got used to the environment by the second day. I'd had plenty of time to think. Leyla came to visit me. The caregivers, the nurses they were all very helpful. Before long, I had learned their mannerisms and how the hospital operated.

August 31, 1995

My father-in-law, the doctor and a police officer are waiting at the door of my room. My cellmate is standing, his face silently turned to the wall. I can hear their conversations.

"Oh, Doctor. How are we going to tell her in this situation? They loved each other so much," my father-in-law says in a tearful voice.

"He'll find out eventually," the doctor replies.

The three of them walk towards me together. My cellmate screams and runs outside.

The police officer states, "Mr. Burak, we need to tell you something. Your wife died in a traffic accident last night."

"What? What are you talking about? What accident?" I reply, shocked.

"Son. Leyla was in an accident in a colleague's car while returning from work late at night." My father-in-law said.

"Eyewitnesses said they crashed into the back of a semi-truck at high speed. There aren't even any skid marks. I am so sorry." He cannot hold back his tears.

The police officer adds, "Unfortunately, Mr. Mert and your wife passed away at the scene of the accident. An investigation will be conducted. The cause of the accident will be determined in a few days."

I start trembling at that moment. The doctor urgently calls the nurse. They give me a sedative. My eyes close.

The next day my father-in-law and mother-in-law pick me up from the hospital. We go to the police station so I can give a statement. I spot a black Honda S2000 with its front end completely destroyed in the police parking lot. My father-in-law touches my shoulder. We receive Leyla's body from the morgue. We bury her in the family cemetery. Wails and screams are mingled with tears. The sedatives they'd given me have turned me into an idiot.

September 5, 1995

According to the accident report, there had been no skid marks. The engine and front end had been mangled, and all of the cables, wiring, and lines in the car had been shattered. They can't be certain as to the cause. Their deaths have been recorded as an accident.

My friends don't leave me alone after the funeral. They won't let me be by myself. No one knows about Leyla's betrayal except Uncle Cüneyt.

I start packing my things as I cannot stay in this house anymore. The memories won't leave me alone. I am going to the village to stay with my mother for a few days.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law came to visit before leaving the house.

My father-in-law said, "You are our daughter's legacy to us. You are like our son. This house was rightfully our daughter's; now it's yours. You can sell it or live in it. We'll handle the title deed procedures when we return from the village."

Before heading to the village, I stop by the taxi stand one last time to say goodbye to my friends. I don't know when I will be back.

Uncle Cüneyt pats me on the back. He says to me, "I told you. There are laws in this country. If there aren't, there's always a plan from above."

I thank him and leave the shack.

He calls after me, "Burak, have you seen my yellow-handled wire cutters? I can't find them anywhere."

End.