The Devil Couldn't Break Me (16 page)

He then leaned into me and hugged me and I let him. He cried, I cried some more and I wouldn't let go of him because for some reason I trusted him with my life.

Eventually he persuaded me to get cleaned up and we went to an interview room. It was full of people taking notes and now I was happy to talk and tell them everything that had happened. It was strange, like a huge weight had been lifted from me. When the interviews were over he gave me a case number in a little transparent plastic bag. He told me to call him whenever I was ready to tell them more.

Finally he asked me where I wanted to go, did I have any family in Pristina? I thought for a moment. There was only one place I wanted to go.

“I have two American friends, they are UN peacekeepers.”

I told the policeman I didn't know the address where they stayed but gave him their full names. Within thirty minutes they had found them. The policeman said we would drive over there in the Italian truck and he would come with me himself.

I thanked him so much. I couldn't wait to see Brian and Peter. At last my torment was over.

Reunited with Friends

I was trying to piece a timeline together and wondered how long I had been in the police station. I think I'd escaped at about midnight and it was now 4 a.m. The policeman had heard enough, taken enough statements and said I was finished for the time being, it was more than enough for one night he said and it was time to go. I had insisted that I would only travel back in a UN vehicle, I would not get in a Kosovan police car no matter how much I trusted the old policeman who had sat with me since I had arrived. The policeman was patient and sympathetic and said he understood, said he had called on the original two Italian soldiers who had rescued me. They would accompany me back along with a translator.

I remember staring at the clock for some time and eventually a policewoman announced that a car was outside waiting to take me to Brian and Peter. I recollect being upset that they had been woken at such an unsociable hour. The Italian soldiers greeted me with a handshake and I climbed into the back of a large jeep with the policeman and a translator. The translator leaned forward and directed the Italian driver through the deserted streets of Pristina until I started to recognise the buildings leading up to the apartment in the street where I had been originally captured. I started to panic a little as I began experiencing flashbacks but tried to compose myself and reassure myself that I would soon be safe.

As the jeep came to a stop at the very spot I had been kidnapped I broke down again. Everything came flooding back as if it was yesterday. The policeman put his strong arms around me and I buried myself into his heavy coat as the tears flowed again. I was shivering, I was so cold and tired too and yet it was a strange tired feeling because I felt that if I succumbed to sleep I might never wake up again. My whole system was at breaking point and somehow I realised it. But I knew I needed to summon my last residues of energy just to make it to my feet.

The policeman shook me.

“Is that your friend?”

He said pointing to the doorway.

Peter stood in his pyjamas peering into the jeep.

“Yes,” I said, “that's Peter.”

It was raining but Peter came over to the jeep and I had an urge to run to him. The translator was the first out of the jeep and she began to explain in English exactly what had happened. Peter looked as if he wasn't listening to her. He just kept staring at me with a look of devastation written across his face.

I wondered where Brian was, why hadn't he come to meet me too?

“I'll take care of her,” Peter said as he reached into the vehicle and took my hand.

I climbed out and he held me in his arms as he wept like a baby. Despite the heavy rain that was now falling we stood rooted to the spot for some minutes. The translator was still filling Peter in on everything that had happened to me and I heard Kupi's name several times. I looked over Peter's shoulder and noticed the old policeman looking on. He looked happy and seemed to approve of Peter and figured that I was in safe hands. We walked into the building locked together. Peter wouldn't let me go as he held me close to him. He opened the apartment door with one hand that seemed to take for ever as he struggled with the keys in the locks. I wanted to tell him it would be easier with two hands but I knew he wouldn't let me go.

He took me straight into the kitchen where the small sofa I had slept on was still in the same place. He sat me down and we tried to have some sort of a conversation but as soon as I managed to blurt out half a dozen words I'd break down again and again. I couldn't stop crying, I felt so ashamed. Brian and Peter had warned me of the dangers in leaving the apartment, they'd told me a hundred times and yet I genuinely hadn't known just what lay outside the four walls otherwise I'd never have ventured out. Peter was trying to calm me down and all I could do was to keep apologising. I kept looking over towards the kitchen door expecting Brian to appear at any moment but it never happened. Perhaps Peter was on his own now, perhaps Brian had a girl in his room and thought it wasn't right to make an appearance at this time?

“You need a shower or a bath,” Peter said, “you're cold and wet.”

I nodded and I stood and Peter guided me towards the bathroom. There was a bath in there and Peter started to fill it. I recall the steam rising up from the water as it gradually filled while he was saying something about the power cuts being few and far between at the moment. Peter started to undress me. I didn't have the energy and sat there like a child being undressed for bath night by her mother. Peter stripped me down to my bra and panties and bizarrely left them on me as he lifted me into the warm water.

Peter washed me all over. He washed my hands and massaged my back with hot soapy water and then he washed and rinsed my hair. He washed me until the water was turning cold and then he filled it with more hot water but eventually, as my skin started to crease and wrinkle, he lifted me out and towelled me dry. He brought me a pair of his pyjamas and left me to change. He then came back with a pair of his slippers, three sizes too big, in the shape of ducks. They were yellow in colour and he slipped them onto my feet. We both laughed and then once again he took me in his arms and hugged me tight. We slid onto the bathroom floor and I sat in his lap. I fell asleep in Peter's arms. I fell into a deep, deep sleep and I slept better than I had slept in months.

When I awoke I was on the sofa in the lounge. It was daylight, perhaps mid-morning and I was still in Peter's arms. I could hear someone in the bathroom.

“Who's that?” I asked.

Peter frowned.

“Brian, who did you think it was?”

I remember being disappointed that it was Brian. Why hadn't he come to see me? I looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 10.30 am. I had been there for hours and it was as if Brian was ignoring me.

Peter looked nervous, as if he had something to say. I asked him what was bothering him.

“It's that clear?” he said.

“Yes.”

“The thing is you can't stay here Laura, we have to work. Things have changed. You can't spend one more night here. It's not safe for you and it's not safe for us.”

As Peter's words sank in Brian walked from the bathroom. He looked at me, gave a half smile and started to shake his head. At one point I thought he was going to walk away but he didn't. He walked over slowly and I stood to greet him. He took me in his arms for a split second and gave me a token hug. He was so cold towards me and as we broke apart he turned around and walked back into his bedroom. I felt so hurt... rejected... disappointed and I remember feeling sorry for myself. I remember thinking that after everything I had been through I didn't deserve this from my friends.

Peter repeated that they had to go to work and now that it was known that I had been brought back to the apartment it was impossible to stay there on my own. I wasn't stupid, I knew that, and yet I couldn't help feeling that Brian and Peter couldn't wait to get rid of me. He told me I couldn't stay in Pristina because they would be looking for me. He looked genuinely upset, saying that if it were possible he'd stay with me for 24 hours a day and take care of me but it wasn't.

I was annoyed with myself. I hadn't been thinking when the people at the police station had asked me where I wanted to go. What a stupid suggestion asking to come back here. No, I needed to get out of Pristina and I needed to get out of there quickly. I sensed Kupi and his gang were already making in-roads as to my whereabouts and that they would already be hunting furiously for me. I had to be silenced, I had to be silenced like all the rest, this was what Peter was saying only he didn't quite have the bluntness to put it like that. I was on a death list. I had to be eliminated. According to the older policeman I was the only living soul who could put Kupi and his gang behind bars for the rest of their lives. I needed to get out of Pristina quickly, across the border at least.

It was agreed that Peter and Brian would get me on a bus in the direction of Veliki Trnovac. By all accounts the buses were running quite normally.

I wanted to say goodbye to the apartment and I wandered from room to room in a daze, like a zombie. I stayed some time in the kitchen looking at my little bed where I had felt so safe and yet somehow knew I would never see it again. I felt sad, like a little girl lost, as if I were saying goodbye to a dying relative. I walked into Brian's room and picked up a CD cover.

Carlos Santana, Maria - Maria.
I recalled how Brian had played the track almost constantly. The lyrics of one particular verse seemed to hang in the air as I hummed the tune and although Brian wasn't there, the aroma of his aftershave, Joop, seemed to permeate the room

You know you're my lover

When the wind blows

I can feel you through the weather

And even when we are apart

It still feels like we're together.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to hit out at someone or something, I wanted to smash the CD cover into pieces. I picked it up and held it above my head. That song meant so much to me or at least I thought it did. I was so close to throwing it onto the floor and putting the heel of my shoe through the plastic box. In the end I thought better of it and placed it back into its original position. I walked into Peter's room and the kitchen and then into the bathroom and even though I knew it was all rather childish I said goodbye to everything.

It was time to go. Peter gave me a small American flag and a picture of himself sitting on a motorcycle. He said it would remind me of him. He looked at his watch and said his shift would be starting in two hours so we had to get a move on.

Brian stood in the doorway as I walked towards the door.

“I think it's best if I stay here,” he said.

He turned to Peter, almost blanking me.

“I'll wait for you here, don't be too long.”

I was embarrassed. I couldn't think what I had done to upset this man so much. He stepped forward and gave me a hug. There was no feeling in it, so different to the last time he had held me in his arms.

As we drove to the bus station Peter emphasised the danger I was in and the need for me to get across the border as quick as possible. My old mobile was still in the apartment and Peter had kept it fully charged. I had tried to contact my parents all day but for some reason it wouldn't connect. I tried to think positively and tried to imagine the meeting with my parents later that day. Forget about Pristina and Kupi I told myself, forget about the Kosovan police and Brian and Peter too. Life would be back to normal in Veliki Trnovac. I reassured myself that there had been no power cuts and that the buses were operating smoothly. Things had changed, things had changed for the better and in a few hours I would be back home and reunited with my beautiful parents and I'd start my life over again. They'd cry tears of joy and happiness and my mother would throw a big party and every single member of the family would be invited. There'd be a feast with all the finest fish and meat and no doubt a big plate of
Sarma
, her favourite dish, the cabbage marinated in mincemeat and spices. I could almost smell it.

Peter had made me sit in the back of his car and told me to keep my head down. We pulled into the bus station and he asked me to wait in the back while he checked out the buses. I crouched down in the back so that my head was below the window level of the door.

Peter returned with good news. He said he had checked out a bus heading near to Veliki Trnovac. He'd paid the bus driver who would look after me, he said that the bus was almost full with families on their way to meet their relatives in Serbia. Peter said that he had a nice feeling about the bus and that there were no soldiers on board, no policemen and no groups of men.

He pointed at it.

“It leaves in fifteen minutes, I'll stay here until it drives away.”

So we said our goodbyes in the back of the car. Peter exuded a warmth that Brian lacked, his tears falling freely and he didn't seem ashamed or bothered. We sat there for an age and eventually as the bus engine fired up he ushered me out of the car. I climbed on the bus and took my seat. As it pulled away from the bus station the images of my parents faces filled my head and gradually a smile appeared across my face as the memories of the last few months dissolved away.

My nightmare was eventually over.

Back Home to Veliki Trnovac and an Unexpected Welcome

Those beautiful images of my parents faces kept fading and instead were replaced with the disappointment of Brian's attitude towards me and the realisation that it had appeared he couldn't wait to see the back of me. On reflection I knew everything made sense but it didn't help to soften the blow of rejection. The translator had explained what I'd been through and I would have thought that my two American friends could have somehow persuaded their commanding officer to grant at least one or two days off and I could have told them my story face to face, apologised to them or tried to make it up to them in some way. Yet they hadn't even picked up the phone and tried to contact anyone back at their headquarters. I don't believe in coincidences and I believe that people wander in and out of your life for a reason. I felt sure that this was not the way it was meant to finish with Brian. Somehow, somewhere I would see him again and he'd explain everything. But right at that moment in time it was hard to get over, difficult to see the bigger picture.

I tried to push my feelings of hurt and confusion to the back of my mind and as we got nearer to Veliki Trnovac it seemed to work. I tried my mobile phone again but there was still no answer, but I wasn't unduly concerned because Peter had told me that all nearby communications were in a hell of a mess. It seemed the rebels on both sides were only too happy to target and sabotage mobile phone masts even though it affected their own communications too.

I reflected on my Agi's smile, his infectious laugh, my mother's almost hallucinogenic smell and I so wanted to melt into her arms again.

We passed a sign that said we were only three kilometres from Kamenice and soon after, we arrived at the border into Serbia. It had taken no more than two hours and the security was almost non-existent. There were a few UN soldiers who stopped the bus, peered through the windows and then they waved us on. I gave a sigh of relief. Was it too much to expect that things really were back to normal and people had stopped killing each other, stopped hating their neighbours?

A little while later the driver called me forward and told me we would not be stopping in Veliki Trnovac but in a village close by called Turija. I knew Turija well and it was only a few kilometres from Veliki Trnovac. I told him that was fine. It was a small village of no more than three thousand people and I even began to look forward to the short walk around the mountain to my hometown. It would be a novelty to me. It had been too long since I had been able to walk as a free person.

The driver dropped me off on the highway on the edge of town, at a bus stop strangely named
white sand
. He said there was no need to drive into the village, as I was the only one going there. I wondered how much Peter had paid him over and above his normal wage. I thought he was a little cold towards me and it seemed as if he couldn't wait to get rid of me. I wasn't perturbed and said goodbye and thanked him politely as I almost jumped from the steps of the bus. It felt good to get my feet onto home soil. I had been in Kosovo far too long and I knew it wouldn't be long before I was back where I belonged. I slung my bag onto my shoulder and pulled up my coat collar against the cold as I looked up at my favourite mountain, Beli Breg, towering above me. I had never seen such a beautiful sight in my entire life. Spring was on its way and as I set off walking I was almost startled by the birdsong that echoed all around me. I couldn't think that I had heard any birds singing during my overlong stay in Pristina.

I walked fast with a spring in my step. There were very few people and not once did I see any sign of a policeman or an army uniform that suited me fine. I could hear the very faint sound of gunfire in the distance but wasn't unduly concerned as it seemed many kilometres away and as I spotted the turn off to Veliki Trnovac I picked up my pace once again.

I stood outside the house I had grown up in and took everything in. I wanted to run through the gates and up to the front door and yet I wanted to linger a while and fill my lungs with the smell of the mountains and clean unpolluted air. I felt free. If anyone was to ask me how I felt that day as I stood outside my family home I would have said free, that's the one word I would have used. I felt as free as the birds that had accompanied me on my journey from Turija. As I walked through the gates I tried my best not to think too hard about the bullet holes in the wall. I looked up and noticed a thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney. My parents were in for such a surprise.

The front door was open which I thought was a little strange. It was still quite cold and it made no sense. Nevertheless I walked through the door.

“Agi, Nani,” I called out. “It's me, Laura, I'm home.”

I waited in silence for some time but there was no sound, no reaction. I walked through the lounge and noticed the dying but still glowing embers in the fireplace. As I walked into the kitchen I was further relieved to see the remnants of breakfast on the table. There were two dirty plates and three or four slices of bread and two cups. Although the cups were quite cold the bread appeared to be relatively fresh and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew my parents were here. I sensed they were alive and well.

I made my way cautiously upstairs and checked the bedrooms one by one but there was no sign of them. I walked back downstairs and out into the yard. I stood looking at the house trying to work things out. The door had been open so they couldn't be far and I noticed that Agi's car was parked by the far side of the wall so they hadn't gone shopping or visiting.

There was only one place they could be and that was in the basement where we kept the winter supply of wood. It made sense. The fire burning in the grate needed to be fed as it was almost out. That's where they would be I convinced myself. It was a scene I was familiar with, my father with his arms stretched out in front of him while Nani placed as many logs as he could carry on his outstretched arms.

I walked around to the back of the house and opened the door to the basement. For some reason I didn't call out, but instead crept quietly down the half dozen stone steps. I pushed open the interior door to the wood store and almost cried with relief as I locked eyes with my parents and cried out in joy as I took a few steps forward before collapsing in a heap in front of them.

But it was not the emotional meeting I had envisaged. There were no tears of joy or embracing, no hugs and kisses or outpouring of grief or relief. I had imagined something out of the movies, a scene that would reflect the fact my parents hadn't seen or heard from me in nearly two months, parents who I assumed had been notified by the police or the UN that I had gone missing in a war zone. No. Instead my father berated me.

“You stupid girl. Why have you come back here?”

He looked terrified and angry. I looked at my mother who was crying but they weren't tears of joy. Fear was written right across her face.

“Nani... Agi... Aren't you pleased to see me?”

I pitched forward and they had no choice but to hold me. That's what I wanted more than anything. Their touch. I wanted to drink in their smell and for a few delicious seconds I experienced just that.

“You have to go Laura, please,” my mother said.

I looked at them.

“But I'm home. Didn't they tell you I was kidnapped by Azem Kupi?”

My parents looked confused and they ignored what I had said.

“You have to go,” my father repeated, “the soldiers are still here and it's not safe. They have been here and they are watching and they still...”

We all looked up at the same time. It was the front gates being pushed open and clashed against the stonewall. It was a sound I'd heard a thousand times. A vehicle of some sort drove fast into the garden and screeched to a halt.

Mother burst into tears.

“We tried to tell you, it's not safe.”

“The army,” Agi said, “they're back again.”

Agi was on his feet trying to take control of the situation as he told me to stay where I was. He walked up the stone steps to confront the soldiers. I listened in to the conversation and it was immediately clear exactly who they had come for.

“Where is your daughter?”

“She is not here.”

“Do not lie to us old man, we have people watching this house.”

“But she isn't here I tell you.”

My father protested and I heard a slap or a punch and the sound of a body fall to the ground. My mother pulled me in closer and hugged me tight. She knew and I knew that I was about to be taken away again and we both knew we could do nothing about it. Outside there was lots of swearing and shouting while inside my mother just wanted to hold me, to stroke my hair and she hummed a little lullaby as if she was so happy to have her only child back in her arms once again. I wasn't particularly frightened as the two soldiers came down the stairs. Agi was behind them still protesting and a trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his eye down his right cheek.

He was still trying to save me.

“You have no right to take her.”

One of the soldiers raised his weapon towards my father.

“We have every right old man, we are the Serbian military and we are in control here.”

“You are no more military than I am,” Agi said. “Look at you, you're a damn mess, no badges or name tags and I swear none of you have had a wash or a shave since last week.”

He was right. Although they wore army uniforms and carried guns there was something different about them. They reminded me of the soldiers on the mountain the night Uncle Demir saved the village.
The long haired, tattooed brigade
someone had called them. They swore and cursed as they stepped forward and pulled my mother's arms from me and dragged me to me feet.

“She's coming with us for questioning, she's been spying for the Kosovans.”

I almost laughed at the irony of it all. I had been accused of spying for the Serbs by the Kosovans and now the Serbs were suggesting I'd spied for Kosovo.

But I had no fight left in me. I didn't care anymore. I had seen my parents alive, they were safe and they had seen me too. That was all that mattered at that moment in time. I managed to hand my mother the police case number from Pristina and also the policeman's card. I didn't know if she would contact him but at that point I wasn't particularly bothered. Perhaps the soldiers would question me and let me go, either way I didn't want them to get their hands on that information. I said goodbye to my parents and told them not to worry.

In many respects it was easier being taken for the second time because at least my parents knew who had taken me and I had been taken from my home town. If it makes any sense I felt somehow more content... I no longer felt lost anymore. I was more than willing to die having been taken by the enemy everyone feared.

There were only two soldiers and they blindfolded me and pushed me into the back of a jeep. The doors slammed and they started the engine and drove fast through the gates. I didn't ask any questions as I feared it was the end. Within minutes the interior of the jeep was filled with choking cigarette smoke as the two soldiers chatted to themselves and ignored me. At that stage I wasn't remotely interested in what they were saying to each other.

We drove through a few towns as I heard the noise of the traffic and then after about half an hour the vehicle climbed and turned onto a twisting, winding road for about another fifteen minutes. We were now in the mountains.

Eventually we stopped and I was ordered out. It was so peaceful, so quiet. They told me to keep my blindfold on, saying it was for my own good and I was aware of being led into a building. They took my blindfold off once they had closed the door. My eyes grew accustomed to the surroundings and it looked like the inside of an old farm building. I immediately noticed how cold it was.

“You don't say much,” one of the soldiers snarled.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked away from him.

“She'll talk soon enough,” his colleague said.

We walked along a long corridor with dirty straw on the ground but although it was obviously made to store animals there was no smell of cattle or sheep and no noise either. At the end of the corridor was a door that they opened and we all went inside. It looked like a small office, a box room with a table and two plastic chairs. There was an ashtray in the middle of the table but nothing else in the room.

One of the soldiers pointed to the chair on the far side of the table.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” he said. “Your interrogation will begin soon.”