Front Matter - Part 03

This was exhausting work for Rade. His days were arduous with the construction and his nights gruelling with the criminals from the underworld. But, at the same time, he was somewhat able to put aside his problems with Milan and his sister Dushitsa. Or at least he tried. He also spent less time with Trajan. It seemed to Rade that if he didn’t have deal with Trajan on a day to day basis, Trajan might forget about him and Milan.

* * *

But that didn’t change anything.

Even though his sister Dushitsa lived in another apartment, Rade went to see her often. During his visits he noticed that she was progressively looking paler and was getting physically weaker. Every time Rade went to visit her he would asked himself if he had the right to take her fate into his hands. What right did he have to interfere in her life? He even had nightmares that one day Milan would be released from prison and he would tell Dushitsa that Rade had known he was in prison and had seen him during one of his interrogations. How then, would Rade explain to his sister why he had hid this from her? She would rightly be very upset and blame him for having suffered senselessly. She might also think that Rade too might have been involved in Milan’s arrest the evening before the engagement. And that all night he had pretended to be surprised when Milan didn’t arrive. She might even think that Rade had offered to go to his house, to see what had happened to him and what had prevented him from coming to the engagement, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be there!

Every night, without exception, every time Rade took a break between interrogations he thought of his sister’s fate and that tormented him. Also, ever since he had seen Milan in the prison, he

hadn’t found out anything new about him. He wouldn’t dare ask Trajan. He was happy that Trajan never mentioned him again. It became increasingly dangerous to have a relative, a friend, or even just to know a person who was in favour of the Inform Bureau resolution. On top of that no one trusted anyone and everyone was afraid of everyone. There was complete distrust between people. There was distrust even among relatives. People literally locked themselves in their houses and had fewer and fewer visitors. They were afraid of each other. They were even afraid of saying anything in case they were or could be misunderstood. Or accidentally misinterpreted. Or intentionally misinterpreted. And this could be used against them.

Informants began to emerge, like sprouts from the ground, who the government counted on to slander people. Most of these informants belonged to the naïve category of citizens. There were also those who, almost overnight, became professional provocateurs. They attacked their chosen victims like hornets. They would talk to people, supposedly quite naively, about the Soviet Union, about Stalin, about the Inform Bureau and look for reactions. Most people were unable to cope with what was said and how it was said and didn’t know how to respond, whether to deny what the other person was saying or remain silent. In any case, the provocateur, no matter what the person said or didn’t say, would interpret their answer in a negative way. The provocateur would then write a statement against them. Silence in this kind of situation was interpreted as acceptance of the Inform Bureau resolution. Rade was happy that he wasn’t allowed to interrogate political prisoners. He was happy not to have that responsibility!

* * *

Dushitsa distanced herself from her entire family. She kept closing herself in and suffering alone. She wouldn’t even go out with her friends. She even avoided her sister Vera. Her life became going to work and coming back home. She seemed very serious and modest. Immeasurably noble. No, few boys would be happy with her. She acted as if everything was over, like she had failed and everything was lost. Her conversations with her mother and sister didn’t help

much. She was unable to snap back to life because of her great disappointment in her beloved Milan.

It was their late fathers’ name day and, according to tradition, Vera and Dushitsa went to visit their mother. Rade was already at home with her. Their mother was making pita (Macedonian pastry).

Dushitsa dared to say:

“Rade, something has been bothering me these days. As I understand it, people who had nothing to do with politics are being sent to prison during these dark times, could that have happened to Milan? Could he have been slandered by someone? For doing absolutely nothing?”

Rade’s face turned pale. He was afraid of two things. First, his sister finding out that he had seen Milan in prison. But how could she have known? He quickly dismissed that idea. Second, what Dushitsa had said, “that they could be imprisoned for nothing”, was a dangerous thing to say. She could be arrested and imprisoned for just saying that.

Rade snapped back at her rudely and in a loud voice said, “I hope you haven’t said this to anyone before! You could be sent to prison for saying such a thing!” And then, in a serious tone of voice, added, “Have you forgotten what that man (Milan) did to you?” Rade said all this categorically fearing that he might reveal the truth, which he desperately wanted to hide even from himself.

When Dushitsa decided to talk about Milan there was no stopping her. She continued:

“How is it possible that no one knows where he is? Can a person suddenly disappear like that, without any trace?”

“So, you’ve been looking for him?” said her sister Vera.

“I can no longer live without knowing what happened to Milan. Is he alive?” asked Dushitsa in a half-crying voice.

“I understand how she feels and I think she’s right,” said her mother.

“In that case, why don’t you go look for him at the school where he worked,” said Vera in a gentle tone of voice.

“I did go there. No one seems to know anything or wants to say anything. He’s simply gone. Even the school principal said that to me and didn’t want to discuss the subject any further,” replied Dushitsa.

“Then he must be in prison for sure. That’s why they’re afraid to tell you!” said Vera and turned to Rade and said, “You, Rade, you ask around, if that’s what Dushitsa wants.” She then turned towards the others and said, “Maybe he had a fight with his principal and took off.”

In a loud voice Rade yelled:

“Prison is the last place where we should be looking for him! Do we want to blame him prematurely without knowing the facts? If we look for him in the prisons, then we assume that he’s either a criminal or a political prisoner... Leave it to me. I’ll find a way to look for him. It’s best you stay away from this mess because it could turn very ugly.”

The women were silent for a long time. They were surprised by the nervousness with which Rade spoke. To relieve the tension Stefka, their mother, changed the subject and began asking questions about everyday things. Rade left them and went to his room. He was feeling stressed out and didn’t know how he was going to get himself out of this situation. He thought the problem with Milan was in their past and forgotten, but here it was once again. He didn’t know what to do? How was he going to move ahead? Should he come clean? If he told Dushitsa, not that he had seen him but that he understood that he might be is in prison as an Inform Bureau resolution supporter, he would be relieved. But then how would Dushitsa react? He figured he shouldn’t rush to tell her, give it some time. Maybe Dushitsa would forget about him. Or she would find another boyfriend.

One day, while working on his house with his construction workers, Rade saw Vera coming... She looked unusually odd like she had something on her mind. Rade became flustered and hundreds of thoughts rose up in his mind, mostly bad ones which caused him some stress. What reason would she have to leave her job and come here? he thought. When he saw the expression on her face, in her eyes, he suspected the reason for her sister’s visit was about something bad. She looked around and visited the workers looking like she was in a hurry to leave. Rade climbed down to see her. Looking into her eyes, Rade sensed that she wanted to tell him something but was hesitant. He walked several steps towards her before Vera quietly said:

“I don’t want to alarm you but I have to tell you something. Dushitsa and I were at the doctor’s office, a heart specialist. She was referred to him by her general practitioner.”

Rade stood there frozen. He was expecting the worst...

“She’s not well... she’ll have to take medication... Regularly...” said Vera.

“I expected that. I didn’t expect anything good... But it isn’t as bad as I expected,” said Rade and grabbed Vera by the shoulders.

Vera could see that her brother was very upset. She tried to calm him down. She said:

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems given that this was her first examination... She needs to be examined again to be sure. They gave her a lot of medication,” said Vera and couldn’t avoid crying.

Rade was so flustered he didn’t know what to do. He had no strength to say anything or look Vera in the eyes. When she noticed how upset he was she stopped crying. Unfortunately there was one overriding thought in Rade’s mind: was he to blame for what was happening to his sister Dushitsa?

At least once a week Dushitsa reminded Rade to inquire about Milan, as promised, but she always got the same answer – as of yet there’s no information. She decided to threaten him that if he didn’t do it, she would do it herself. She would go to the prisons and hospitals on her own. But that was only a bluff. She was getting sicker and sicker and began to tire very easily. She had lost her appetite completely and the only thing she desired was to know what had happened to Milan. But that too seemed to dull her.

One day she decided to confide in one of her closest co-workers, who was also a sincere friend, about Milan’s sudden disappearance. To reassure her, her friend told her that it was possible that Milan may have gone somewhere abroad to escape if he was in any real danger. It was understandable that he wouldn’t trust anyone so that’s why he didn’t tell her where he went. Dushitsa accepted her explanation. It was possible that he may have fled abroad without telling anyone. But by now he should have informed someone. He’d been away for a long time.

After having that conversation with my co-worker, it seemed possible to me that Milan had fled abroad without telling me. Or I just wanted to believe in something like that. In such a case he probably couldn’t call or write to me. I needed to think that way. To have some hope. Several more uneventful months passed. Almost a year of uncertainty had gone by. Vera told me that she had also asked Uncle Slobodan if he had any news about Milan. But he too had nothing.

As much as I wasn’t interested in politics, I couldn’t avoid reading the news. It seemed there were a lot of people imprisoned because they were allegedly in favour of the Inform Bureau resolution. Some were war veterans and even communists. I couldn’t even imagine that Milan would turn against Tito. All members of our family were with Tito. I didn’t think too much about what was happening around me. I was too depressed from my own tragedy and was also in poor health. There was no room left in me for events from the outside world.

One day my mother said that she had heard that some of the prisoners who were jailed as a result of being accused of being Inform Bureau resolution supporters, whose whereabouts were unknown, had sent postcards to their homes with a few words written on them. Only now had they been given permission to write and only after serving a year or more in prison. After she told me that, my hopes were raised but I had no idea why I even had such hopes. Every day after that I waited for a postcard to arrive... Maybe the mailman would bring one for me too. Several days passed and nothing. No postcard. I started to think that maybe someone had liquidated him over something... and I kept getting angrier at him. I didn’t want to know anything about him... Then I changed my mind again. Maybe it was my way to justify his giving up on me... To free him.

* * *

...It became clear to him and to her, in an instant, that their meeting was inevitable. Her sister’s fiancé, who had disappeared more than two years ago, was standing in front of her! Face to face! It had been so long and they knew nothing about him, about his fate, from that night when he inexplicably disappeared. Without a word. Without a trace. He had just disappeared. Given the expression on his face, she immediately realized that he was more afraid of being discovered than happy to see her. Vera noticed the insecurity in his steps and wondered if he was going to run. He desperately wanted to run. Like a child caught stealing. To immediately get lost. To disappear. Nevertheless, he didn’t run and met her face to face. They looked at each other eye to eye.

“Hello Milan... Where have you been all this time?” askedVera sounding curious.

She shook Milan’s hand.

Milan’s face first turned red and then terribly pale. His face looked like it was made of wax. He couldn’t speak. After mustering some strength he said:

“I’m still gone.”

Vera was confused. She didn’t understand.

“Obviously you’re not gone. Why don’t you come back? Dushitsa still lives in the same apartment... She’s alone,” said Vera quickly, as if being afraid that Milan might disappear in the next instant.

A dark curtain seemed to cover Milan’s face. It looked to Vera like he was going to cry.

“Yes... yes... I will come,” he muttered in barely understandable words, and feeling that he might be afraid of being asked something more, quickly turned the corner and disappeared.

Milan was unable to get his act together for a long time so he didn’t go out. But as it happened he did go out and had accidentally run into Vera, Dushitsa’s sister. Now Vera was going to tell Dushitsa that see had seen him and would open up old wounds... After so long! Would Dushitsa want to see him? he wondered. Would she still want to see him after everything that had happened? And should Dushitsa still want to see him what explanation would he have for her? Was there even the slightest hope that she would want him? How would he approach her? What would he say to her? How would he explain things to her? Many things had happened since the day he’d disappeared. He had experienced much pain, frustration and humiliation in prison. In the few months after he was released from Goli Otok located on a desolate island in the Adriatic Sea. He was unable to muster the courage to go and see her. He was also seriously ill. And even now, he still didn’t have the courage to face her.

Even after running into Vera he still had no idea how he was going to move forward.

He hesitated for a long time. He felt like something was broken inside of him... At the same time he felt the need, the necessity to go and see Dushitsa. At least one time, as soon as possible. Visit with her if only for a while! God, how much he loved her!

The moment he turned the corner and began to walk on the street towards her house he felt like all the air around him had been sucked out. He seemed to sink into the abyss with every step he took. When he reached the threshold of her door he thought his heart had stopped... He wondered if his legs were going to give away and let him collapse. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she started yelling at him and kicked him out? Maybe she wouldn’t open the door for him? What if Vera hadn’t’ told her? He began to choke... He broke into a sweat. He stopped walking again. He began to question his decision to come and see her? Would she understand that, through no fault of his own, he had caused her shame and suffering...? Would she believe him that he only loved her? Now even more. And how would he prove it to her? How would he convince her of that truth?

* * *

I couldn’t contain myself since the day Vera came over to tell me that she had met Milan. And that he might be coming to visit me one of these days. Vera couldn’t tell me more. She didn’t know where he was all that time, what had happened to him and when he was coming to visit me... After so much time had passed…

As I waited for him to appear at my doorstep I kept thinking of how I had managed to survive all the difficulties I had endured over the years. With a tireless, inexplicable fanaticism, as I tormented myself over the years, deep in my heart I believed that someday he would come back to me. I truly believed that he would repent for what he had done to me. He would beg me for forgiveness... But he would return to me. I needed to believe that in order to survive! Not to give up and die before my time!

During our relationship and even after he’d disappeared there were no other men for me. I didn’t give myself to anyone who tried to approach me and court me, let alone allow them to enter my life.

I accepted everything that had happened between me and Milan as our destiny. I reconciled with it. His reappearance seemed like it

had happened in the afterlife... What could he tell me now? About himself. About me...

Step by step Milan was getting closer to Dushitsa’s house. It seemed like some strong force had brought him here. At one point he noticed her silhouette behind a thin curtain in the window. It seemed to attract him. With quick steps he automatically walked the rest of the way to the entrance. He knocked on the door. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the knocking himself. He felt like his movements were mechanical. Like he wasn’t human. Like he had no voice and no words.

Without hesitation Dushitsa immediately opened the door. She wasn’t even aware that she had been standing and waiting at the door. She had waited at the door every day since she’d found out about him from Vera. She stood at the door in anticipation.

She was shocked at his sight. He looked lost and helpless. He looked like a convict who was about to face his executioner at any moment and there wasn’t the slightest hope of being pardoned... He stood there with a bouquet of white roses in his hand.

Milan didn’t remember how he crossed over the threshold. They went towards each other... But their long separation, the bitterness that had gathered in their young, wounded hearts, the sorrows they had endured made their embrace absurd. They shook hands... It wasn’t a warm handshake… Not even a cordial one. For two people who had been separated as long as they had, it was a handshake of reconciliation but without any hope of reunion… They were both silent and unable to look into each other’s eyes. Neither one knew what to say… Where to start... Who would start first…

Dushitsa didn’t remember taking the white roses from his hand, putting them into a vase, or adding water to them.

In a voice that seemed to him like it belonged to someone else, someone who was buried underground Milan said:

“Well, a lot of time has passed... I wanted to before... I couldn’t... I didn’t come... Not because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t... I was in prison.

In the meantime Dushitsa invited him to sit down, in the same armchair in which he had sat countless other times. Nothing had changed in the room since his disappearance.

When he mentioned that he had been in prison Dushitsa looked surprised. When he saw the expression on her face he immediately added, “Not as a criminal but as a political prisoner...”

They both stopped talking. The silence was getting unbearable.

Milan decided to speak again. He said:

“Do you remember that night when we were going to formally announce our engagement to our friends and relatives? I was already dressed in my new suit and very happy to come over to your house. Then, just a few minutes before I was going to leave my apartment, someone knocked on my door very lightly. This was the apartment in the school where I worked. I rushed to open it thinking it was my landlord, but two strangers rushed in and pushed me back into the apartment. They said they were from UDBA and ordered me to go with them. I wanted to know why they were taking me but they not only didn’t answer me, they told me to stop asking questions. That’s how I found myself behind bars. There wasn’t a living soul in the school at the time. No one saw or was told that I was being taken to prison. Even if there were people, I don’t believe the UDBA officers would have allowed me to send you a message. What upset me the most was that it was happening during our special night! I knew how long you had waited for this with all our closest friends and relatives and how excited you were to get engaged. I also knew how horrible it was for you and your family when I didn’t show up. But I couldn’t help it.

...You remember me telling you that my mother and father were killed in the war. My grandmother had also died in the meantime. I was aware that there was no one from my side of

the family to inquire about me. I also knew you wouldn’t ask… to keep your relatives from getting into trouble...”

There was silence again.

Milan spoke again. He said:

“After seven months of relentless torture in prison, I was sent to a desert island in the Adriatic Sea. It’s called Goli Otok. It’s a camp specially prepared for Inform Bureau resolution supporters. I was accused of being an Inform Bureau resolution supporter...

...Everything that happened to me there from the first day I arrived was horrible. It was worse than what Hitler’s Germans did in the World War II camps, where the fascists destroyed people, from all over the world, who didn’t belong to the “pure” Aryan race.

Now we were declared “Stalinists” as opposed to the “pure race” – “Titoists”. They messed with our heads! With our minds! They did all that overnight! Are you for Tito or for Stalin? I had no idea who decided to divide us or why? Are you for our Communist Party - or for the Soviet Bolshevik Leninist party? Why was there this sudden opposition between them? Didn’t we fight in that terrible war against fascism together? It’s over now but didn’t we lead it together and win it together? Are we not socialists committed to the USSR’s example of socialism; the first country that led us to socialism? Are we not a society of people that are equal? No rich and poor, no unemployed, no hungry, no homeless? Was this “quarrel” between Stalin and Tito deliberately designed to liquidate hundreds of true communists? Who came up with the need to quarrel?

People were jailed in Goli Otok without being tried. They were arrested for just saying a single word, maybe even an ambiguous word... They were arrested for asking a question. Sometimes an unfinished question... addressed to their closest friend, colleague, neighbour, acquaintance...

You wouldn’t believe how many people died there. Top personalities! Strong intellectuals! Scientists, writers, musicians, artists, non-communists, communists... Some had dedicated their lives to the struggle for a just society. But instead of being rewarded for their contributions, they were punished. They were accused of things of which they weren’t guilty. They were condemned by people obsessed with power, people who feared they would lose what they had taken without earning it, such as jobs for which they didn’t qualify, money, property, material goods and other things that didn’t belong to them. They feared that someone would organize a revolt and overthrow them and take away their power that provided them all these privileges. I couldn’t come to terms with that! Was that what the revolution and our struggle were all about? So that these corrupt people could gain advantage over the rest of us? Was that the ideal for which many people sacrificed their lives? Was that why we exchanged our existing way of life for a new way where we were all more or less equal…?”

From the moment Milan walked into her apartment Dushitsa remained still and silent as if she didn’t know the man, sitting opposite to her, talking non-stop. It once again seemed to her that all this was taking place in another life. Two metres underground. Why was Milan telling her all these things? Who needed to hear them? How would this change their past? All these things were gone... No one had returned from the afterlife... She wanted to interrupt him... Maybe if he stopped talking for a moment. She wanted him to be the way he was… to be here… to be near her… to be like he was before… The former Milan... Her Milan... But Milan continued to talk... This Milan... He talked non-stop...

...There on that lifeless island, I quickly realized that everything that was being done, with all the physical and above all mental harassment, was done for a person to lose their human qualities. To dehumanize them. To turn them into an anti-human. That was the price of staying alive there, where we were surrounded by non-humans, by beasts... By tormentors without any human qualities... At some point you realized that, with all the monstrous methods of unprecedented, uninterrupted pressure

on you, there was a danger that nothing would remain of you, of your person, of the humanity in you and, because you were unable to kill the beasts around you, you would want to kill yourself. Or... from the horrible abuse you experienced you would go crazy! Many ended up going crazy... They simply went crazy... If they weren’t killed first. Or... if they didn’t die of starvation... or thirst! Thirst, terrible unbearable thirst! It was in that state that we were forced into superhuman physical torture. Simultaneously beaten with hands, feet, metal rods, wooden sticks, wet ropes tied in knots... Many were beaten to death for no reason... Sometimes they just beat someone to death because they had picked up a cigarette butt from the ground and put in their mouth... Sometimes someone was beaten to death for uttering a single word deemed inappropriate... Most often people were beaten to death for not confessing to have done something. Or for not saying something that allegedly had happened when in fact it had never happened!”

All the time he spoke Milan never looked at Dushitsa. He didn’t look to see if she was listening to him... As if all this wasn’t addressed to her. As if he was telling someone else. Confessing to someone else... Telling them what had happened to him so they too would know...

The expression on Dushitsa’s face was that of a mourner, mourning over someone who had left forever. Or maybe she was mourning over herself, knowing that she couldn’t blame Milan for all that she had been through all these years. She was completely paralyzed from what she was finding out. She couldn’t attack him now, not after what he’d been through. She couldn’t even call him insulting names. Even the curses that came from her heart for betraying her love also became meaningless. She couldn’t blame him for ruining her youth. He had left her without joy in the most beautiful years of her life... He had left her without a family, without children... It had damaged her health... She had to take medication every day... Her heart was damaged...

She waited for the right moment to tell him all that. To yell at him. To hurt him...

However, Dushitsa was now facing a new reality. Her beloved Milan was right there in front of her but he looked worn out… wasted! Her lost love was tormented! He had been tossed into the abyss forever for having done nothing. He was guilty without guilt! She felt very sorry for him. For herself. She felt like screaming. She wanted her lost years of happiness back. Her unborn children. Her pleasure of living together with a loved one. Her return of faith in life... But how was she going to do this? Who was going to do this for her? Who was to blame for all this? The beasts of whom Milan spoke since the moment he had returned to her? The ones who took her beloved in the most beautiful moment of her life and returned him to her after they had killed everything inside him? They had killed him. This person here was just someone who looked like Milan... She tried to look into his eyes to at least find a spark from the flame that used to burn in them. But it was in vain! Everything was extinguished. Even his face, the skin on his face was sagging and lifeless. Like all his movements. She became more and more aware that she wouldn’t be able to take revenge on anyone. Not even the evil force that had ruthlessly changed their lives. That had destroyed them... Irreversibly...

Milan’s voice became distant, like an echo of words spoken a long time ago... He continued:

“…I spent almost two years in jail on the island. Finally we were given permission to write a letter to someone close to us. The first thing we were told to write was to express our gratitude to the people’s socialist government and state, which mercifully gave us the opportunity to ‘correct ourselves.’ To return from the wrong to ‘the right path.’ We had to also thank the Party and our great leader Tito for everything they had done for us, ‘the traitors of the people and the Party’.

...After hearing this while standing in line, I was in the front of the line, a strong cramp gripped my entire body. This was yet another humiliation. Perfectly thought out! What cynicism? We had to say thank you? For what? For the atrocities they had committed against us every day? By saying this did they think that they had already managed to turn us all into idiots? They were lying to themselves if they thought that!

...I immediately thought; to whom should I write this letter? I thought of you! Even if I had hundreds of close relatives, and even if my mother and father were alive, I would still have written to you. To let you know how much I cried for you when no one was looking. All night long. How I suffered! One time I came close to writing you but I realized that none of you would be happy getting a letter from Goli Otok. That’s why I didn’t. I didn’t want to cause you further torment. Both you and your family.”

Milan stopped talking for a while. The room went silent!

He began talking again but his voice seemed even more sorrowful and monotonous. He got up and started to pace from one end of the room to the other as if what he was about to say was even more painful to him.

“...In that desolation we had no contact with the outside world. With life outside the camp. We were all innocent convicts, suffering at the hands of ruthless interrogators, brutal policemen and torturers of all kinds. They brutalized us and forced us to turn on each other. There was constant pressure to inform on loved ones, friends, neighbours, brothers, sisters, fathers, sons and so on. If you didn’t want to be harassed and humiliated beyond the extent that a normal human mind could accept, then make a statement against anyone, even a false statement, yes, yes, a false statement. Become a lowly snitch at all costs, otherwise you will never leave that snake pit full of venomous snakes.”

Dushitsa got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She was hoping that Milan would stop talking. If he didn’t she was sure she was going to pass out. She was going to collapse... Everything he said was awful, painful and horrible... Her heart wasn’t able to take any more...

When she came back Milan was still talking... Apparently he hadn’t even noticed that she had left the room.

“...I knew I couldn’t write to you. I knew your family was with Tito. Like it or not, we were on different sides. How could it be any other way? Your brother works for the police, your uncle is a top politician…”

Suddenly there was silence again. A longer silence this time. Dushitsa figured he had finally stopped talking. But she was wrong. He began talking again:

“...Do you know what was even more cynical? When I was imprisoned, I wasn’t an Inform Bureau resolution supporter. I wasn’t at all against Tito. I wasn’t even aware of the causes of the dispute between the Soviet Union and our government. I didn’t know what the Inform Bureau resolution was all about. I became an Inform Bureau resolution supporter in prison! There! In Goli Otok! When I experienced first hand who and what our ‘representatives of the people’s government’ were and the kind of methods they employed against us political prisoners. I know many of them were comrades in arms with those in the Inform Bureau, including some of the investigators and policemen, but that was until yesterday. I’m also sure that many had nothing to do with the struggle against Hitler’s forces, much less with the revolution. Many even cooperated with the occupier and openly fought on its side. Some, as I later found out, were filled with hatred against socialism and communism. Some were former Chetniks and Ustashas. Some of our torturers were convicts, criminals who had committed murder. They were recruited from prisons to be our torturers. They were in charge of torturing the prisoners with the heaviest sentences. Why? Because someone decided that’s how it was going to be, because we had been slandered by someone. We had been slandered by basically anyone, but most likely by a family who had a member of their own family already in prison and wanted them to have an easier time.

... One time I accidentally overheard our tormentors say:

‘Why should we kill him, he doesn’t have to die quickly. We’ll have some fun with him for a while!’

They wouldn’t kill us outright. They liked to torment and humiliate us...

One time I ‘expressed my opinion’. This is what they called it when we were taken to the barracks to speak to an interrogator in front of several prisoners and say ‘I repent for the crime I committed in betraying the Party and the people and I will return to Tito’s way’. Instead of saying what they wanted me to say I said I need some more time. I then heard several voices say ‘gangster! Kill the bloody gangster!’ Dozens of prisoners and some policemen came at me, pushed me to the ground and beat me. I fainted. They poured water on me. I don’t know how I survived. I was badly beaten and of top of that I was placed inside the ‘kibla’ all night for punishment. The kibla was the name of the barrel in which dozens of prisoners in the barracks urinated. I stood in it with my head just above the urine.”

At this point Milan began to cry... He was crying loudly...

Suddenly it seemed too quiet... He realized that Dushitsa wasn’t in the room. She wasn’t in the other room either. Not in the kitchen. Not even in the bathroom. Had she left him alone in the apartment?

He went outside. She was sitting on the stairs. He sat down next to her and asked her to forgive him for talking so much. Why had he told her all those terrible things? Dushitsa was sitting motionless. She was in shock. Anxious... He felt terribly guilty. He remembered how fragile and tender she was. Who knows how hard it was for her to listen to all those horrible things... She had to get out to get away from him... The poor woman...

“Please Dushitsa, you‘ll get cold out here,” said Milan gently. “Please go inside...” he insisted in a tender tone of voice, also letting her know that he wasn’t going in with her.

Dushitsa was still sitting petrified. He saw tears streaming down her face. He wanted to hug her, to wipe her tears but was afraid she might push him away...

Milan took very slow steps towards the yard exit hoping that any moment he would hear her voice calling him back. He was outside now...

No voice came from the yard as he took to the street.

He blamed himself for the despair. Why had he come to her all of a sudden, after being away for so long? He had gotten the courage after he met her sister! Why did he have to tell her about his suffering, though it seemed like it had never ended. By doing so, he once again inflicted pain on his beloved. The only woman he loved.

He walked around the city for a long time, for as long as his legs could support him.

He didn’t go back to the same school where he used to work. Instead they gave him an auxiliary room in one of the schools in B where he could enter from the back entrance. It wasn’t much but enough for him to have a place to stay and sleep. He wasn’t allowed to teach anymore. He worked from time to time as a salesman in a store. The owners knew him from before he was sent to prison. They were his friends when he was a teacher. They must have gotten permission from the UDBA to give him the job. They also gave him some money. Most people avoided him. They were afraid to say hello, let alone talk to him.

Milan kept walking frantically along the wide street without knowing where he was headed. He couldn’t forgive himself for ruining his visit with Dushitsa. For disturbing her peace, which she had managed to find in these past years without him. Where had he gone wrong? It seemed to him that he had failed to reach her, to connect with her. The only thing he had managed to do was upset her even more. He shouldn’t have told her anything about his past. Could that have meant anything to her now, after so much suffering? He felt she needed to know the reason why he was away and about the culprits that had done this to them, as well as the terrible torment he had gone through...

No! It seemed to him that nothing he said had touched her. It seemed to him that she had surrounded herself with an impenetrable

wall, which didn’t allow any sound to go through. It seemed to him that he was talking to her from the other side of the wall. Now his last hope was lost. His hope of seeing her again. His hope for making contact with her. At least as friends... What friends? She might not want to see him even more. On top of everything else she might even see him as the man who had betrayed the Party, the State, the Leadership, the People, as the interrogators and torturers repeatedly told him thousands of times in the prisons and on the dry island concentration camps. She might see him like some “patriots” did in the psychiatric hospital where he was treated several times after he was released from Goli Otok.

He should have known that it would be impossible for her to understand him! He also feared that Dushitsa might think he was guilty of what happened to him. Therefore he was also guilty for their separation and her tragedy. For their bad health. Hers and his. No, she couldn’t think that way… No, she mustn’t believe in such a thing!

...He was huddled under a bridge, half-frozen when a policeman shone his flashlight on him. He was shaking. After he examined his documents, the policeman noticed that something was wrong with him. Without asking him the policeman escorted him to his police car. Milan didn’t object. He didn’t care where he was being taken. A while later he realized that he had been taken to a psychiatric hospital. In his semi-conscious state he tried to get away from the doctors and paramedics but failed. They told the policeman to leave Milan with them and go. They would take care of him. Milan was one of their patients.

Again no one, not even Dushitsa, knew where Milan was and what had happened to him. No one knew that he was in a psychiatric hospital.

I didn’t stop crying for a long time, even after I went inside my apartment. I was in a semi-conscious state lying on my bed... That’s how I fell asleep. A few hours later I woke up all sweaty. I had a torturous nightmare. I didn’t want to think about it but I couldn’t help it. I remember Milan drowning in my nightmare... He was drowning in a dirty, muddy river... I was standing helpless on the

shore... I couldn’t help him... I couldn’t even try. The murky whirlpool pulled him down... The nightmare haunted me all day. And many days that followed. Wherever I went, whatever I did, the images from my nightmare were always with me.

I was constantly haunted by the question: what happened to my consciousness during the hours when Milan was with me? My brain was blocked! Some sort of numbness overwhelmed me. I was lifeless. I was in shock. I had no voice. I didn’t console him, not a word of consolation. I didn’t tell him how much I wanted him and had pain for him... I didn’t tell him that I had waited for him... I became sick waiting for him... Now, after he came back... I didn’t find the strength to listen to him to the end... I had destroyed him... I had robbed us of our last hope... His hope... My hope… Our hope.... I became frightened when I realized that I didn’t know where he had gone… where to look for him. I didn’t even know where he lived or whether he had a telephone or not. I’m afraid I’d lost him again. I was very worried about that! ...Maybe if we met again, something would change. He would come back to me. Deep down in me I now knew that he wasn’t to blame for everything that had happened to us... He wasn’t to blame for how things had turned out between us... It was that evil force that had destroyed our lives. The monster that had the shape of a man, of people... of more people. More monsters, which externally took on a human form.

Dushitsa was hesitant to tell her sister that she had seen Milan. She had no idea how to explain to Vera what had happened between them. Nor why she had behaved the way she had towards him, towards the same man for whom she had cried all these years. She had no idea what had gone wrong inside her?

Why did Vera have to invite him to see Dushitsa this way? Did she know if Dushitsa was ready to see him? She acted completely recklessly! Her intention was good. But when Vera met Milan she should have gotten his address or phone number. Then she should have asked Dushitsa when she wanted to see him. And when that time came then Vera could have arranged a meeting. The way things happened, this meeting of theirs, it looked like a meeting of two people who had suffered a lot for each other. How could Dushitsa find him now when she didn’t even know where he lived?