He cowered in the corner of the room with a tremor similar to the trembling of dervishes in
ecstasy. Disgust covered his whole body. He wanted to prick his hands all over his body
like a rasp, to pluck his skin, to make it bleed. It was better to die now with bleeding
wounds. Even if his hands were untied, he should have plucked his hair in tufts and
thrown it away.
Zulayha, began to pull her hair and scratch her face. Her mother, who wanted to stop this,
grabbed he ...