Chapter 20

'I had so much left to say'

Dehrin Demir

I stepped into the toy store as if I were crossing into another world, a universe of bright colors and soft edges that clashed violently with the relentless storm inside me. The fluorescent lights above hummed their indifferent tune, illuminating rows upon rows of plush creatures and cheerful trinkets. Yet all I could feel was an ever-present weight of regret and the raw sting of my past mistakes.

I wandered the aisles, my eyes darting uncertainly among the stuffed animals. Every shelf seemed to whisper echoes of innocence, a mockery of the cruelty I'd inflicted on the one person who mattered. I was a grown man, perpetually draped in a perpetual scowl that never quite concealed the churning regret beneath, yet here I was, searching for a symbol of redemption.

I'm here with a purpose that gnaws at me: I need to find a stuffed toy for my little sister.

Is this what girls like? Google you better be right.

Passing by, a group of girls giggled and snickered. Their amused glances cut through the store's manufactured cheer. I felt their eyes on me, and my skin crawled with annoyance; I wasn't built for such frivolity, nor did I deserve it. Still, I pressed on, driven by a determination I couldn't quite understand, perhaps it was the desperate hope to mend what I'd broken.

As I stand amid the rows of soft toys, confused and conflicted, a woman in her forties approaches with a gentle smile. "Ne arıyorsunuz? (What are you looking for?)" she asks in a warm, familiar tone. Her voice is kind, but it also carries an undercurrent of pragmatic curiosity a lifeline for someone who, like me, is tangled in regret.

I pause, then answer softly, "I need a stuffed toy for my little sister." The words feel inadequate, too simple to carry the weight of my apology, yet they are all I have. She tilts her head, her eyes softening further, and asks, "What is the occasion?" Her question is not just polite, it's an invitation to articulate a remorse that has long festered within me.

In that moment, I'm overwhelmed by a torrent of regret. I remember every harsh word I ever hurled at her, every moment I failed to be the brother she deserved. The thought of her vulnerability, her need for kindness, and my cold indifference haunts me. "I...I want to apologize," I confess, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I've hurt her, and I can't ever do it again."

The woman smiled, an expression that seemed to carry both empathy and a quiet wisdom. "Then take your time," she said, gesturing broadly. "Look around. Choose whichever toy reminds you of her, whatever speaks to your heart." With that gentle encouragement, she left me to wander among the relics of forgotten childhoods.

I drifted through the aisles, my mind churning with a tumult of Kafkaesque despair. Every plush toy seemed to offer a promise, a chance to perhaps soothe the narrative of my shattered past. I examined each one with a meticulous gaze, letting my mind wander through what-ifs and should-have-beens. My internal monologue was a relentless echo of self-recrimination, a litany of regrets and sorrow that made every step feel both inevitable and unbearably heavy.

Then, almost as if fate had arranged it, my eyes landed on a stuffed bunny. It was unlike the others, a beacon amid the chaos of my thoughts. The bunny looked soft, velvety brown fur that invited touch, with floppy ears delicately lined in floral fabric. Creamy satin ribbons were tied into bows at the base of each ear. Its little paws were adorned with the same subtle floral pattern, and a gentle stitched smile graced its face, framed by tiny, shiny eyes that seemed to radiate warmth and comfort. In that moment, the bunny became more than just a toy, it was a manifestation of the tenderness I longed to show, a small, tangible token of the care I owed to Yerenica.

It looks like her.

I hesitated, aware that a grown man, with a perpetual frown and hardened demeanor buying a stuffed toy was an anomaly that would surely draw unwanted attention. I could already sense the disapproving glances of onlookers and the smirks of women passing by, their eyes lingering a moment too long. Their judgment, real or imagined, fueled the embers of my irritation. Yet, the sight of the bunny and the hope it symbolized overpowered my reservations. In that soft, unassuming figure, I saw a reflection of Yerenica's innocence, her delicate beauty, a stark contrast to my own world-worn cynicism.

My mind raced back to how I had failed her, the moments of anger and cold neglect that had built the chasm between us. The regret was suffocating, an endless reminder of my shortcomings. I knew that this small act was no grand gesture, it was a tentative step towards redemption, a fragile attempt to patch the wounds I had inflicted. And so, with a mixture of reluctance and resolve, I reached for the bunny and clutched it tightly.

The decision was made in a blur of emotions. I hurried to the bill counter, the stuffed bunny secured in my grasp like a fragile promise of change. Every step felt weighted by my internal struggle. I couldn't help but think that the absurdity of my situation was almost laughable.

I paid quickly, my heart pounding as I left the store. The cool air outside did little to soothe the turbulent storm within me. With the toy under my arm, I walked briskly towards the parking, each step echoing with a mixture of dread and cautious hope. In the recesses of my mind, I clung to the the promise that i'd protect my sister and every step of improvement might bridge the gap between the person I was and the person I longed to become a brother who could, at least in this small way, begin to heal the scars of her past.

I cradled the bunny close to my chest, I dared to imagine that maybe, just maybe, this tiny, soft creature's hug would feel like embracing her, comforting her.

What do you guys think of Dehrin?

When i wrote him i wanted a 'xander' but i also wanted to depict a reality. He's still young. A 19 year old boy with an emotional baggage and so much love for his family in his heart.

In future you guys would see so much of him.