by Laura Aslan
“No, I, I was born in-”
Before I could say another word he was in my face shouting and screaming abuse and calling me the vilest names anyone could imagine. For the next fifteen minutes or so there was no physical violence just a prolonged assault of verbal mistreatment during which I sobbed and begged him to believe me. In many ways it was worse than the beatings, which of course came soon after. There was a short respite and then he’d start with the gentle questions again, the same questions he’d already asked over and over again and I’d give exactly the same answers convincing myself if I told him enough times then surely he’d eventually believe me.
Azem Kupi wasn’t a fit man and towards the end of that first hour the interrogation and his efforts when he had beat me had clearly taken their toll. He was breathing hard and sweating profusely as he sat leaning against the table. And yet he was still smiling. He looked around at his men who somehow seemed to sense what was coming next. The man in the leather jacket stared at me with a strange look on his face.
Azem looked at him and grinned.
“Okay,” he said, “rape the whore.”
“No,” I screamed, “no please-”
“Rape the fucking whore.”
The men were on me like a pack of wild dogs. This was clearly something they had been waiting for and I wondered how many other poor girls had suffered at their hands. They ripped my jacket off and pinned me to the floor as I tried to kick them away. It was a hopeless cause as one of them sat on my stomach squeezing my breasts as another unbuckled the belt to my jeans. Kupi was shouting instructions of encouragement.
“Take your time boys, I want this spectacle to last a while.”
I tried to scream out but one of the men had his fingers in my mouth.
I could see Kupi laughing.
“See how she likes the Kosovan cock as opposed to a Yankee one. Make sure she’s fucked good and hard.”
I remember a moment of sadness as I realised these were more or less my fellow countrymen, the history of Kosovo was intertwined with that of its neighbouring regions. Kosovo and Albania had been brothers for centuries and my tormenters spoke the same language as I did and by the sound of their names, worshipped the same god as me. There was no doubt these men were Albanian speaking Muslims and they were treating me like an animal, a piece of meat. I recalled my Uncle Demir telling me once to beware of your own dog, because he was the one who was more likely to bite you. One of them ripped at the buttons on my shirt exposing my breasts. Their inhuman treatment was in marked contrast to that of the Americans, a country on the other side of the world, the foreigners, as they were known. They had shown me nothing but respect, love and kindness.
Kupi was in his element screaming and laughing as they ripped my jeans off and I could feel their hands groping at my breasts and their cold slimy fingers sliding into my panties.
The man with his fingers still in my mouth had inched closer to my face and I could smell the stench of his foul breath as he spoke.
“You fucking Serb whore, I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”
I don’t know what came over me but I bit down hard with all my might. As the pain registered he screamed out, ripping his bloody fingers from my mouth and I managed to scream out.
“I’m no fucking whore I tell you, I’m a virgin.”
I don’t know what happened but suddenly the assault seemed to stall. Even Kupi looked shocked.
“What did you say?”
“I can’t be a whore,” I repeated, “I’m a virgin.”
Kupi stood.
“Well, well. A little virgin.”
“I’m not a whore, I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last hour.”
Kupi walked over.
“Repeat that again.”
“I’m nobody’s whore.”
He knelt down.
“Yes you are.”
“No I’m not.”
Kupi edged closer. His teeth were stained yellow and brown and his body odour mingled with the smell of blood and his breath and the sweat of the other men and I did all I could to prevent myself vomiting there and then.
“You are somebody’s whore,” he said leering at me, “now you’re Azem’s little whore.”
***
The fact I’d disclosed I was a virgin seemed to change everything. The attitude of the other men and Azem Kupi had changed. Perhaps now they believed me I thought. They clearly didn’t like the Americans for some reason but now they knew I hadn’t been sleeping with them had perhaps mellowed them. Kupi ordered his men to leave me and they threw me the clothes they had torn from me. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and dressed quickly.
Within ten minutes we were on the move and Kupi took me by the arm as he led me out of the building. He was carrying the black hood but at no point did he attempt to put it on me. As he led me towards a large jeep I looked back to see where they had been holding me. It looked like an old military establishment, run down, dirty and in need of a lick of paint. It stood in its own grounds and as I looked to my left I could see the city of Pristina about half a kilometre away and a little closer, what looked like a hospital and a school. Despite the ordeal I’d gone through I began to feel a little more relaxed. Since my disclosure about being a virgin there had been no more abuse, physical, mental or indeed sexual.
As we walked towards the car Kupi spoke to me normally. He didn’t shout or scream nor did he insult me.
“Get in the car. Everything will be fine.”
I sat in the back with two of his men either side of me and Kupi sat in the front with the driver as we moved off. We drove in the direction of Pristina which reassured me even more. I convinced myself these men were plain clothes policemen and now they had established I was just another refugee seeking shelter they would take me to a police station and telephone Brian and Peter to come and get me and it would all be over. I asked Kupi where we were going. He stared at me hard but said nothing and I thought it best to keep quiet as the buildings of Pristina loomed up in front of us.
We pulled up outside what looked like another rundown apartment block.
“What’s this?” I questioned. “This isn’t a Police Station.”
One of the men laughed.
“No, and we certainly aren’t policemen.”
Kupi told him to shut up. He looked at me.
“Didn’t I tell you everything would be fine?”
Because they still hadn’t put a hood back on me I still wasn’t too concerned. We all walked towards the building. Kupi walked in front and the other men flanked me. I thought about running but I knew I had no chance. They took me up about four flights of stairs, as it was clear the lift wasn’t working with several wires hanging out of the push button control panel. It was a horrible place. I thought Brian and Peter’s apartment block was a bit run down but this was on a different scale and the stairs smelled of stale urine. I recoiled in horror as we stopped in front of a large steel door with a barred iron grill.
“No please,” I said, “you can’t put me in there, I’m claustrophobic and-”
“Relax,” Kupi said, “it’s not a cell it’s an apartment. That door is for security purposes.”
He produced a bunch of keys and threw them to one of his men who proceeded to unlock the heavy door. It opened towards the outside and swung to the left. He pushed it flush with the outside wall and then removed the bunch of keys searching for another. Within half a metre of the steel door was another one, a wooden one, more in keeping with a standard apartment door. This door pushed in over and the man opened it and walked in.
“Where are we?” I asked. “Why are you taking me in there?”
Kupi smiled and pushed me in.
“This is my apartment, didn’t I tell you everything would be fine.
Now you are Azem’s little whore.”
Any thought of rescue or being taken to a Police Station disappeared instantly as he smacked my bottom and laughed. His men joined in the little joke. The apartment inside was as dilapidated as the outside of the building. We walked along a narrow dingy corridor where the greyish yellow wallpaper peeled from the damp walls. It was cold and I noticed a kitchen to my right and a dirty bathroom to my left. We passed both rooms and at the end of the corridor it opened up into a small lounge with a sofa and two armchairs. A small TV sat in the corner playing to itself.
Kupi shouted a name
“Lule!”
Within seconds another door opened up to the lounge and a woman walked through. She smiled as she noticed Kupi and sidled up to him giving him a kiss on the cheek. He showed no response, no emotion and instead told her that he had someone for her to look after. She walked up to me and looked me up and down. I disliked her from that second. She was slim, about twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old with hard, evil features, slightly shorter than me with dark straight hair. She wore a little make up but it could not disguise her rat like face. There were no soft delicate curves, everything had a sharp edge, her cheekbones, her nose and even her chin and as she took my face in her hand and examined me like an animal I knew finally that I had been kidnapped and there was no escape. She smiled at Kupi and gave him another kiss. She said something to him but I missed it, such was my revulsion for her.
She turned to me and pointed to the room where she had come from.
“You will sleep in there tonight.”
“But I don’t want to sleep here I want to go home, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Lule gave a little smirk, ignored me, and Kupi spoke to her again, saying he would be back in the morning. Kupi left soon after along with two of his men leaving one guard armed with a machine gun. He appeared to be making himself a bed up on the sofa and Lule ordered me into the bedroom. Reluctantly I walked slowly into the room. It had a double bed with a grubby duvet and a small, white plastic bedside cabinet and nothing else. I studied the barred window that looked onto a busy street and thought about escape and yet we were so high up. Even the window was padlocked, I couldn’t even shout for help. I burst into tears at the hopelessness of the situation trying to make sense of everything that had happened and wished I could have turned back the clock. I remembered Brian’s last words. Don’t be going outside. Why hadn’t I listened to him for once?
Lule came into the room a little later and appeared to be ready for bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I was stupid.
“I’m going to bed,” she said. “It’s a one bedroom apartment you stupid bitch and we’re sharing this bed.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Or you can take your chance on the sofa with Azem’s guard, Naim.”
“Who are you?” I asked. “What are you doing here? Are you Azem’s wife?”
“Questions, questions,” Lule replied shaking her head. “No, I’m not Azem’s wife. I guess you could call me his mistress. He looks after me, feeds and clothes me and fucks me whenever he feels the need.”
I had never heard a woman speak this way before, I was totally disgusted and I think Lule sensed it which encouraged her even more as she appeared to enjoy shocking me.
“Ahhh... the pretty little virgin, soon to be Azem’s other whore and then he’ll have two.” She looked at me inquisitively.
“You really are a virgin.”
I nodded.
“Well, well, isn’t Azem the lucky one.”
The Den of Iniquity
Lule and I slept together in the double bed that first night. Such was my distaste for her I turned my back on her. Within a few minutes she was fast asleep and snoring like an old dog. I envied her sleeping so soundly and prayed that I would drift off too, but sleep wouldn’t come. I wondered if Lule was a prisoner too, I hadn’t asked her but I had noticed that when they had locked the apartment when Azem and his mob had left, it had been the guard they’d thrown the keys too and not Lule. Had I misjudged her? Was she in the same predicament I was? I didn’t like the look of her but was there some justification in her attitude and hostility if she too had been locked up against her will for weeks or even months on end?
I replayed the events of the day in my head and Brian’s words came to me again and again. I remember looking at my watch as midnight came and went and the time dragged by as I watched the small pointer creep past one and then two and three in the morning as the city fell silent. I couldn’t quite believe I’d left my mobile phone in the apartment as I went for a magazine. It was very small and fitted quite easily into my pocket and perhaps there might have been an opportunity to call for help if Kupi and his gang had missed it. They certainly hadn’t searched me and who knows, when they’d left me alone there might have been an opportunity to call Brian and told him exactly what had happened. I’d even read somewhere that by leaving a mobile phone switched on the location could be pinpointed quite accurately. It was all incidental now as I pictured my phone sitting on a shelf by the front door of the apartment. I had looked at it and remembered thinking - will I take it with me? Pointless, I thought. I’m only going for a magazine.
There had been another power cut and there was no electricity in the apartment and at 4.10 a.m. I got an uncontrollable urge to pee. I was so frightened and didn’t want to move. The thought of having to walk into the lounge and bypass Kupi’s guard on route to the bathroom filled me with dread. These men had almost raped me and talked about it as if it was an almost regular occurrence and I ran the scenario through my head and pictured him waking as I disturbed him. I had a vision of the guard trapping me on the way back from the bathroom, pulling me down onto the sofa and overpowering me.
I paced the floor of the room for at least an hour until my bladder cried out no more. It was no good, I had to go and I opened the bedroom door as quietly as I could. To my relief the lounge reverberated with more snoring from the sleeping guard. Although it was pitch black my eyes were well accustomed to the dark and thankfully I managed to negotiate the sparse furnishings and tip toed silently past the sofa and made it to the bathroom without rousing him.
After I’d finished I instinctively reached behind me and nearly made the mistake of flushing the toilet. It was an old toilet and no doubt noisy and it could have been disastrous. My hand hovered on the toilet handle as I said a silent prayer of thanks to the almighty for stopping me when he did. So instead I left it unflushed and crept quietly back through the lounge, into the bedroom and slid back into bed. I managed to fall asleep after that but for no longer than an hour at the most and then I was awake again and the nightmare was back.
My watch told me it was just after twenty minutes past six. I lay wide-awake as I watched the daylight gradually light up the small dingy room. It was an awful place. One table with makeup on and nothing more than a box room in need of an major overhaul. Some of the wall paper near the ceiling was hanging off and the once white paintwork was stained a dull nicotine yellow. It smelled of damp and cigarettes and body odour and there was an occasional but distinct waft of ammonia.
I told myself I should be shattered and I longed to fall asleep if only for an hour or two but the adrenalin coursing through my body would not allow it. I had been snatched from a street, beaten and abused and nearly raped and forced to spend a night in a building that was alien to me, sleeping with someone I loathed. I was cold and I felt dirty and as much as I wanted to sleep I knew it would not happen.
It was 8.30 am when Lule woke up. She looked around the room and focussed on her new bedmate as the events of the previous evening registered once again.
“Ahhh,” she said, “why if it isn’t our little virgin. Mother Teresa.”
Lule sat upright and twisted her legs over the bed as she s
at for several seconds before standing. She reached for a packet on the cabinet, pulled out a cigarette, lit up and blew several plumes of smoke high into the air. She walked over to the window and looked down into the street below. It was a dull grey day and little droplets of rain fell against the windowpane that had a crack in the bottom right hand corner.
“Another beautiful day in paradise,” she said with a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders.
As she walked towards the bedroom door she turned and faced me.
“I think it’s best if you stay in here Mother Teresa. You don’t want to tempt that guard out there with your cute little untouched ass,” she laughed out loud. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Lule returned about twenty minutes later. She brought me some bread with a small sachet of honey and some water.
“No electricity so no coffee and the bread is a couple of days old so it’s a little hard. I’m sorry,” she said, as she shrugged her shoulders in a way that said that’s the best you’re going to get.
I stayed in the room for the rest of the morning too petrified to move. I’d seen exactly what Naim was capable of as he was fully prepared to rape me before Kupi called him off. Lule was probably right; it was best to stay where I was, at least for the time being.
That first day was a blur as I nearly wore a hole in the bedroom carpet pacing back and forward. I stared out of the window a hundred times looking and imagining a way I could get out of there and escape. But it was impossible and I knew it. The window was padlocked and barred and even if by a miracle I could have overcome those obstacles I was several storeys up and as far as I could see there was no fire escape in which to get down to ground level. I thought of a way to break the window and shout for help. That was a possibility. The window pane was already broken and the leg of the bedside cabinet could certainly complete the task. And yet would I even be heard above the noise of the traffic? It was quieter first thing in the morning but then again it was quieter because there was nobody around so would my screams and cries for help fall on deaf ears. I talked myself out of it. The guard, the vicious, brutal, bear of a man was less than ten metres away, it would take him no more than a few seconds to reach me and then what?