I wrote these short stories to raise awareness about honour killings. The UN estimates up to 5,000 occur each year and many go unreported.

2008 AWARD Copywriting Finalist

Scissor

Dear Melek,

I am so thankful that you are now at peace and that I could finally help you after so many months of adversity.  I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for how much you suffered and that I never agreed with the family and I never will.

I did not tell you, but I knew long before the others that you were pregnant.  I was certain of it - just by the way you stroked your stomach when you thought no-one was watching, and how you always felt sick but never let anyone know.  But sadly, you knew as well as I did, you could not hide it forever.  The day Mother suspected, she told Father right away.  Melek, if you had seen Father's face when he found out, you would understand how my heart broke right then and there.

That night, as you slept soundly in your bed, Mother and Father argued until morning.  Father wanted you dead.  He said that you had put a black mark on the family's name and that you had to die in order to clear it.  Mother was devastated.  She did not agree with Father, at first, but when she realised that the other sisters might not have a chance to marry, she finally gave in.  But not without a proviso.  She forbade Father to ask Cahil to kill you.  Cahil was their only son, and if he were caught he could go to jail and Mother would never allow that. In the end, Mother and Father agreed that they would force you to kill yourself, however, Father wanted you punished first.

My dear Melek, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all the times I did not help you.  Like when Father came into your room on the morning of your birthday and cut you all over your body with his razor, while calling you a prostitute and a whore.  And when he put Mother's burning iron to your face while you slept, so no man would ever find you attractive again.  I am so sorry for not helping you then.

I am sorry for the death threats they sent you.  And how they put rat poison and drain cleaner in your room waiting for you to eat them.  I am sorry for all the nights you cried yourself to sleep, knowing that your own parents wanted you dead, and having no-one to turn to.

I cannot even imagine how you felt, every day being beaten and abused, so that every day the lure of suicide grew stronger.  I know you would have given in long before, if it were not for that little person growing inside of you.  That little person who you grew to love like no other and who gave you a reason to keep going.

But it was inevitable, and the day came when your suffering became too much.  How could you possibly go on with all that malice and hate?  I was glad when you finally agreed to take your own life, and thankful you came to me to help, and that this time I would not sit back and do nothing.  I felt comforted to know that an end to your suffering was near and you would finally be free from this life of condemnation and shame.

So that night, I watched you fill the bath while the rest of the family slept.  I watched you take off your clothes and caress your hard round belly as you lowered your body into the warm soothing water.  And I watched you calmly lay your head back as I cut along the radial artery in your arm turning the water a chilling crimson red.  And then, I sat back and waited, and when you finally closed your eyes and drifted off to the sanctuary of Heaven, I cried.  I cried inside, for you and for your baby, but not because I was sad.  I cried because I was happy. I knew at last, no-one could ever hurt you again.

So now, I bid you farewell my dear sweet Melek.  And I want you to know that I will miss you.  I will miss you terribly.  Even if I am just a pair of scissors."

Thousands of honour killings go unreported every year. If you know something please speak out. Because if you don't, who will?

www.stophonourkillings.com