The vibrant streets of Antalya were alive with the energy of locals and tourists alike. Marion found herself drawn into the allure of a clothing store, its colorful display beckoning her inside. As she browsed through the racks, little did she know that a chance encounter would send her world spiraling into chaos.
She caught up with Christiane and Natasha who were also browsing through racks of colorful sun dresses, shorts, and tops. Christiane soon lost interest and said she would meet up with the other two at a nearby place for lunch for kebabs in a short while.
Marion entered a fitting room, hoping to try on a few items she had selected, not seeing Natasha slip into the fitting room across from hers with a bright pink sun dress. She was just about to undress when the curtain to the fitting room was roughly shoved aside and the shouting began.
An old, gray, dirty, and deranged-looking woman began shouting at Marion in Turkish. Natasha didn’t know any Turkish and Marion only knew a little. Neither woman could understand what the crazy woman was shouting about. The only thing they could be sure of was that it wasn’t anything nice. It was obvious by the woman’s disheveled appearance and the way she screamed accusingly at Marion that she was delusional, paranoid, and likely accusing Marion of something she had no clue of.
Natasha peeled back a small part of the curtain covering the fitting room she was in and peered out curiously and nervously.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marion tried first in English and then in German since she didn’t know how to say it in Turkish.
The woman continued screaming and Natasha reached for her phone.
Then the woman lunged at Marion, swinging her fists and kicking at her. Panic flooded Marion’s veins as she realized she was trapped, this stranger’s madness closing in on her. But then she realized the woman was a little smaller and in a moment of instinctive self-defense, Marion’s actions became desperate, inadvertently causing harm to the woman that she didn’t want to cause. Marion shoved the frail woman a little too hard, causing her to slip and smack her head on the edge of the bench in the fitting room.
Shaking, she stopped and stared at the now still and silent woman in stunned disbelief. How has she gone from being about to try on a dress to accidentally killing a woman in just ten seconds?
Then, to her additional horror, Marion glanced up and discovered that Natasha had not only witnessed the entire incident but shot a video on her phone as well. Fear and disbelief etched across her face, Marion pleaded with Natasha to delete the footage, knowing the potential consequences of its existence.
“Please,” she insisted sternly. “I’m not only a foreigner in a foreign country but so are you. If the authorities should get a hold of that video, do you really want to put us through what would happen to us, Natasha?”
Natasha, conflicted and torn, understood Marion’s plight. She comprehended the weight of being a foreigner in a foreign land where seeking help from the police might make them wish they didn’t. Despite knowing that what she was doing was wrong, Natasha decided to use the situation to her advantage after Marion said what she said next.
“Please, I’m not kidding, Natasha. I’m totally serious. I’m begging you to think about this. If there’s something you want that’s within my means to give you, I’ll give it to you. If you want money—”
Marion’s words were cut off when the sound of voices grew closer.
“Let’s go,” Natasha said quickly.
Without thinking, Marion followed the petite American out of the fitting room. Luckily for them, the store was densely packed with merchandise and narrow aisles in between and they were able to slip out unseen.
They had just stepped outside when they heard the screaming, presumably from one of the ladies they’d heard talking on their way to the fitting room as they discovered the body of the deranged woman.
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and then Add to home screen.