Chapter Five. Nastya
Nastya was so excited about her big day, that she got to the church very early. She was bubbling over at the prospect of marrying Antonio. He was such a good man! He made her feel so safe. The love she felt for him was endless. Never since her father's death had she met any man that she could even trust, let alone fall in love with. This would be her special day. She had been shown to a little room where she could prepare herself. The church had been decked out with flowers, by her Moldovan, and Romanian friends, outside the sun was shining, it couldn't have been better. She was having a dream wedding, a wedding fit for a princess. In reality, by Italian standards it was a very small affair, but for Nastya it was the biggest, most amazing ceremony she had ever seen. Everything was perfect. The floral arrangements were just so pretty, her friends had even tied white ribbons around the trees leading up to the entrance of the church. She caught a glimpse of herself, reflected in the glass of the window. She saw a happy, smiling face. She could hardly recognise herself. It seemed like a lifetime since she had been so happy. The last time she had been this happy was probably when she was nine years old, living on the farm in Hrac Mic, where she had grown up. She still remembered it all so well. In her mind's eye she could still see it now. It wasn't really a farm, it was more just a modest bit of land, where they could grow some food, and keep some animals. The farm was in a very poor farming community, in the hills of eastern Moldova, not far from the border with Ukraine. They had very little, but her life, while full of hard work, had been nice.
Even at nine years old, she helped her mother with the chores, working on the farm, and looking after her two little brothers. She was her father's special little girl, and, when he had time, he would show her different trees, and plants, and explain things to her. His face always wore a beaming smile, and even those tough times wouldn't deter him from enjoying what he had. He was a big, strong man, with such strong arms that he could lift anything, all by himself. His face was beautiful, and he had a wild crop of the darkest black hair. They would always laugh when they were together, and she learned so much from him. He was always working hard, but would make sure he would find some time to spend with his little girl. His 'inger mic dulce', that was what he used to call her. His sweet little angel. Now, she couldn't even remember his name. To her, he had always been 'tatic', daddy. Up until now, those had been the only happy times of her life. It was only the thought of her 'tatic' that had helped her through the many difficult times. Difficult times that started right then, when she was nine years old. Towards the end of summer, not long before her tenth birthday, everything had changed. She never knew the details, but one day, her 'tatic' never came home. That evening many of the people from the community, including a lot of relatives, came to the house, and talked, and cried, and discussed things she didn't understand. She remembered someone speaking of it having been 'just bad luck', but she never understood what had happened, other than the fact that her father was dead. He was never coming home again to his 'inger mic dulce'. The next day her father was buried in a plot at the edge of the property. Then everyone left, and her life ended. Her mother had always been cold, and hard, with her, showing affection only to her two little boys. Now, without her 'tatic' to protect her, her mother became even worse. She would always yell at her, and no matter how hard she worked, no matter how hard she tried, it was never good enough for her mother. Food had never been in abundance, now there was precious little. Most evenings, Nastya would go to bed hungry. Any food to be found would be first given to her little brothers. She didn't mind, she loved her brothers, and was happy that they wouldn't go hungry. A few months passed, her tenth birthday came, and went, without even being mentioned by her mother. Things were getting harder, and harder.
Then one evening, one cold evening, her uncle arrived, with a box of food for them. She heard him talking with her mother, but couldn't hear what they were saying. Then her mother yelled to her:
'Nastya, go with your uncle!'
As usual, she quickly followed her mothers orders. She jumped up.
'Be good with your uncle, he is a good man to us.'
Her uncle Petru took her by the hand, and led her into her mother's bedroom. Nastya couldn't understand what was going on. Petru roughly thrust his hand between her legs. She cried out:
'Mami!..mommy!'
Her mother yelled through the door:
'Be quiet, do as your uncle wants. He is a good man to this family.'
Nastya was so confused, she didn't know what was happening, but she knew it was not good. She screamed for her father. Then, between her legs she felt such pain, a pain she had never experienced before. Nastya couldn't remember what happened after that, her next recollection was of waking up, with her mother holding a wet cloth to her forehead. For the first time she could remember, her mother spoke nicely to her.
'Nastya, you are a woman now. A woman's life is never easy, but we must do what is best for the family. Your uncle Petru will help us with food, food we desperately need, now that your father is no longer here. All he wants in return, is that you are nice to him. Do this, Nastya, do it for your brothers. They are relying on you. Without your uncle's help, they might not survive the winter.'
Nastya spent that night, and all the next day in bed. She couldn't move, for the pain she felt between her legs. She couldn't understand what her uncle had done. Why would he want to hurt her like that? What did her mother mean, be nice to him? Nice, how? She couldn't understand any on it. Maybe it had just been a big mistake? Her questions were soon answered. Petru came back the following week, in his arms, again, a box of food. Not a word was spoken by anyone. Petru took Nastya by the arm, and dragged her into the bedroom. She didn't want to feel that pain again, and tried to get away from him. She pulled away from him. He pulled her back to him, and punched her, repeatedly, in the face, and stomach. Nastya didn't know what was happening, she felt so dazed. It all felt like it was happening in a dream, a nightmare. Her head hurt, she felt dizzy, and couldn't concentrate. Then she felt it again, the searing pain between her legs. She wanted to cry out, but no sound came from her mouth. She wanted to resist, but her little body just couldn't move. She lay there, until the pain ended, and Petru left. Her mother came in. With a wet cloth, her mother wiped the blood off her face.
'Nastya, it will get easier. This is what all women go through. It's easier if you don't fight it. You are just making it harder on yourself. Just let him do his business, and it will be over sooner.'
Nastya wanted to ask her mother what was going on, but she couldn't talk, through the pain. Her face was swollen, the pain between her legs was crippling. She didn't want to be a woman, if this is what it meant. If only her 'tatic' was here, with her father here, she knew she would not have to go through this. Her father would never let his little angel suffer like this. She wanted to cry, but with all the pain, she couldn't even manage that. The lovely, happy life she had lead, now seemed like it had been a thousand lifetimes ago. Lying there, she wondered if she would ever be happy again.
That winter Nastya kept trying to fight off her uncle, always being beaten senseless for her efforts. Her uncle would punch her repeatedly, in the stomach, in the face, all over her small body. She was constantly bruised, and always in terrible pain. Finally, with her spirit broken, like a wild stallion whipped into submission, she gave in. She didn't have the strength to fight anymore, and just let her uncle do what he wanted, without resisting. A sort of mental numbness took over her. She was living life, but without feeling like any of it was real. Hey body was going through the motions of living, but her mind was totally shut down. She could feel nothing. She had no interest in anything. Even looking after her two little brothers, was now just a job to do. She had no feelings towards them, or anything else. In her mind, she remembered her 'tatic', her daddy, and tried to remember his smile, but she couldn't remember what his face looked like anymore. Months turned into years. Nothing changed for Nastya. Her life had ended at nine years old. When her father had died, she had died along with him. All that was left was an empty shell. A body, without a soul. Unfortunately, for her, her body developed into that of a beautiful young woman. She was tall, like her father had been, and slim, probably because she ate so little. Her breasts had grown, and she started to attract attention from unwanted corners.
One day, a man from Chisinau, who was in the area visiting family, stopped by their farm. He had heard of the beautiful girl who lived there, and wanted to see her for himself. He entered their house, without even knocking.
'Where is your daughter? Let me see her.'
Nastya's mother was surprised, and immediately very afraid of the man. He was around 40 years old, very hard looking, with a scar across the left side of his face. He didn't seem like a man to mess with.
'Why do you....?'
'Bring her out, now! My name is Nicolae Melnic, you do as I say! Where is she?'
'She is working in the barn.'
'Show me.'
They left the house, and walked across the yard to the barn. Nastya had been giving feed to some rabbits they kept, for food. She saw them coming, and walked out into the sunshine, to see what was going on.
'What is your name, girl?'
'Nastya.'
'You are very pretty. You will come with me, to Chisinau, to be my wife.'
Nastya saw that he was very ugly, and hard looking. But the news that she would be his wife left her totally indifferent. She had no life here, she would have no life in Chisinau. It made no difference to her. Her mother was trying to discuss the situation with the man, to dissuade him. In reply he slapped her to the ground.
'Get in the car. Don't bother getting anything from the house. I will get you what you need. Move it!'
Nastya didn't even know how to open the door of the car, she had never been in one before. When she hesitated, her husband to be opened the car door, and pushed her in. As the car pulled out of the property, Nastya didn't even look back. She was leaving nothing behind, she was going to nothing. It made no difference to her. At eighteen years old, Nastya left her family, and would never see any of them again.
'These are the rules. You do as I say. You don't talk unless I tell you to. Do you understand?'
'Yes.'
'You cook, and you clean. The other woman, my brother's wife, will show you what to do. If you complain, I will beat you. Do you understand?'
'Yes.'
'I will not tell you this again.'
After something like three hours of driving, they entered the outskirts of Chisinau, the largest city in Moldova. Nastya looked out the window at all the houses, and wondered what her new life would be like. Seeing all the people, and different places, gave her a slight feeling of hope. Maybe here, she could find happiness? The car pulled into a courtyard, surrounded by two houses.
'Veronyka!', yelled Nicolae.
A stern looking woman, of middle age, came out of one of the houses. The one on the left of the courtyard.
'This is my new wife. Show her what she has to do.'
The woman took Nastya by the arm, and took her into the house on the right. She explained to her all the work that was expected of her, and where she would be sleeping. Nastya couldn't understand it all, it was all so new to her. She had trouble remembering all the jobs expected of her, but was too scared to ask for further explanations.
'I am married to Nicolae's brother, Vadim. I will get some clothes for you. If you need anything, you come to me. Nicolae is very violent, so be careful to do as he says.'
That night Nicolae brutalised her, in much the same way her uncle had, for all those years. Nicolae stank of alcohol, and after finishing with her, promptly fell asleep. Nastya lay there, not able to sleep, and wondered what a world without men would be like. She hated men, they had only brought her pain, except for her father. But he was gone.
She had been told that she was to be Nicolae's wife, but there would never be any such ceremony. She soon learned the rules of the house, and what was expected of her. If she got anything wrong, Nicolae would beat her, violently. Sometimes, after he had been drinking heavily, he would beat her anyway, for no apparent reason. When Nicolae was away with his brother, Veronyka would come and see her. She was a very cold, stern woman, but slowly a sort of friendship grew between them. Veronyka told her that the brothers were criminals, always looking for ways to make money. Quite often they would be away all night, and sometimes even for a few days. Nastya never knew when Nicolae would walk through the door, so she remained always on alert, and tried to keep up with all the work that was required of her. For the first year she wasn't allowed to leave the property, and Veronyka did all the shopping for her. A couple of times, when Veronyka knew that the brothers were away for some time, Nastya would accompany her to the shops. Once, they even stopped for a cup of coffee. Nastya liked living in the city, she would look at all the people, and wonder what sort of lives they lived. She wondered if one day she, too, could have a life. Eventually Nicolae gave her a shopping allowance, and let her leave the property. At first, just in the company of Veronyka, then, even by herself. Those were the moments in her life that Nastya enjoyed the most. When she was walking the streets she felt free. Her constant grip of fear relaxed a little, and she would dream of being someone else, living someone else's life. She never spoke to anyone, except the shopkeepers, but she enjoyed looking at all the different people, and things on sale. She had to be very careful about how she spent the money Nicolae gave her, and, if he thought she had spent too much, he would beat her. Veronyka had two sons, and Nicolae wanted a son as well. Nastya never became pregnant. This was just another thing that would send Nicolae into a rage, especially when he was drunk. He would abuse her, and yell that he should never have chosen such a useless woman as his wife. Nastya didn't know why she couldn't have children. It never occurred to her that maybe her uncle's constant beatings, at a very young age, had been the cause. In any case, Nastya was glad she didn't have children. It was hard enough for her just looking after herself, in such a violent environment.
The worst beating she suffered happened after she had been with Nicolae for around five years. She never even knew the reason behind the beating. One evening, Nicolae came home, stinking of alcohol, and started yelling at her, and beating her. He beat her so badly that his brother had to take her to the hospital. Nastya had three broken ribs, a broken jaw, and bruises over all her body. Nobody called the police, and, at the hospital, no one asked her how she had sustained her injuries. It never occurred to her to complain to anyone, for her it was just part of life. She thought it was probably like that for all women. Actually, the days she spent in hospital, then those at home resting afterwards, were probably the most relaxing she had spent for years, at least since her father had died. For a few months after that beating, Nicolae left her alone, but then things returned to normal. Nastya knew that Nicolae had other women, she could smell their perfume on his clothes, but rather than being jealous, she was happy about it. It meant he would leave her be at night. Nastya didn't know it, but another big change in her life was approaching. Another big change.
One afternoon Nicolae came home with a man Nastya had never seen before.
'Nastya, sit down, I want you to meet someone.'
She knew something big was afoot, because normally when Nicolae would bring home his associates, she was expected to make herself scarce.
'Nastya, my friend Ion needs someone to help him in his restaurant in Italy. I told him you are a good cook, and a hard worker. He will pay you well, and you can keep all the money you make.'
Ion was a thin man, probably in his fifties, with a thin mustache that gave his face a sinister look. He looked like trouble, but when had men never been trouble for her? Nastya knew that she wasn't going to find herself in a better position, but on the other hand, it could hardly be any worse. Probably it would just be much the same. All in all, she found herself to be indifferent to the idea. So far in her life she had never decided anything for herself, and so she just accepted it. Anyway, it was not as if she had any choice in the matter. The emotional numbness of her life would just be moved to a new location.
'My wife and I have a small restaurant, and it is hard finding good workers in Italy. We will look after you. You will love Italy.'
Nastya could tell by the permanent scowl on the thin man's brutish face that he would not be looking after anyone, especially not her.
Over the next few weeks she had to go with the man, Ion, to various offices to get various bits of paper stamped. A month later she found herself at the airport, ready to start another phase of her miserable life. The only friend she had ever had in her life, Veronyka, went with her, to say goodbye. They hugged each other, and cried. Neither of them knew exactly what was going on, but both of them knew they would never see each other again. A few hours later, she was in Italy. At 30 years old, Nastya found herself in a new country, with a different language. On the flight Ion hadn't spoken a word, and when they arrived, Nastya was just expected to follow him. At the airport a man was waiting for them, and drove them, for about an hour, to their destination. He stopped the car in front of a pizzeria, called 'La Bella Donna'. While they were getting their bags out of the car a short, fat, angry looking woman came out, pointed at Nastya, and yelled:
'You, with me!'
She followed the woman, who she later learned to be Tatiana, Ion's wife, through the restaurant, through the kitchen, to a little room at the back.
'This is your room. You make sure you do what I tell you, and things will go well for you. If you mess me around, you will find yourself in big trouble. I am the boss of this restaurant, you do what I tell you. Understood?'
Nastya nodded, and was left to unpack her bag. The room was small, with just enough space for a single bed, and a small chest of drawers. It was more than sufficient for her, as Nastya had very few possessions anyway.
Tatiana came back to get her, and explained her duties to her. Her job would be to wash the dishes in the kitchen during the evening, when the pizzeria was open, and then to clean the restaurant during the day, when it was shut. She would work at least fourteen hours a day, and if she didn't do a good job she would get slapped by Tatiana, or beaten by Ion. No one mentioned how much she would get paid, and in fact, she was never paid any money at all. They would buy clothes for her, and whatever else she needed she would have to ask for. Sometimes she would get it, most times not. That first evening, she worked until one in the morning. No sooner had she gone to bed, when Ion came into her room, and, without a word, beat her, and raped her. When he was finished, he calmly put his clothes back on.
'You say a word of this to my wife, and I will kill you. Do you understand?'
Nastya nodded. After he left Nastya lay in bed thinking about her father. She couldn't now remember what he looked like, so she just thought about how kind and funny he had been with her. Nastya wondered if he had been the only man in the world who wasn't cruel. Why couldn't other men be like him? She thought about how her life had changed so much, over the years, but how, in many ways, it was all much the same. To be in Italy was so vastly different from her home, back in Hrac Mic, but there was the constancy of being beaten, and abused, by men. She thought it probably didn't matter where she was. Her life would always be the same. She fell asleep to the smell of pizza, and the pain from the blows she had taken.
A routine in Nastya's life soon developed, lots of hard work, no money, and constant abuse from both of the owners of the restaurant. Ion would come to her room, after she had finished work, at least a few times per week. Even when she didn't try to fight him off, he would always beat her. Mainly he would punch her around the body, so as to not leave any tell-tale signs on her face. He knew exactly where to aim the blows to cause maximum pain. Tatiana warned her to stay away from the rest of the staff, at the risk of a good beating. In the early years Nastya never spoke at all, with anyone. However, by listening to the cooks, and the girls who served the tables, she soon realized that Italian was not vastly different from her own language. All of the staff were foreigners, mostly from east Europe, but among themselves they would speak their common language, Italian. Slowly she started to understand this new language. On the odd occasion, without the owners knowing, she would try to talk a little with the others. For some reason they all seemed wary of her. Maybe they, too, had been told not to talk with her, at the risk of a beating? She worked very hard, and at night, when left alone by Ion, she would fall into a deep sleep immediately. She didn't dream anymore, she tried to remember her father, but any recollection of him had faded. Nastya never thought of trying to run away, she knew that everywhere would be just the same for her. At least here she had plenty of food, and her own room. Things could always get worse, and she was constantly expecting something bad to happen. The only person who would smile at her, and say hello, was the woman who delivered the drinks to the restaurant. She was a big woman, muscular, with short hair, and tattoos on her arms. Nastya had never seen a woman like that before, but she had a friendly face, and would always smile at Nastya. Normally when she would deliver, Tatiana was there to check the delivery, and sign the paperwork. Nastya knew full well to stay out of the way when Tatiana was around.
One day, after Nastya had been there for around seven years, Tatiana was not there when the drinks delivery arrived, and Ion also was nowhere to be seen. The delivery woman came in with her cartons of drinks, on a hand trolley.
'It looks like you are in charge today, eh?'
'No! I no in charge!'
'Hey, take it easy, it was just a joke. What's your name?'
'Nastya.'
'Hi, I'm Elena. You've been here a long time now, haven't you?'
'Yes, many years.'
'Do those bastards treat you well?'
Nastya was scared. She didn't know what to say. If she told Elena the truth, Ion would kill her. She just stood there, mute. Elena looked at her with a concerned expression.
'Nastya, do they treat you well, here?'
'I must work. Please, go!'
'Are you scared of them? Tell me, I will help you. I have never liked those bastards.'
'If I talk, they kill me! Go, please!'
Elena was visibly stunned. She realised that she had stumbled onto something big.
'Nastya, tell me, what do they do to you?'
'I no tell you, please, leave me alone!'
'Do they pay you?'
'No.'
'They have never paid you, while you have been working here?'
'No.'
'Where do you live?'
'I have room out back.'
'Right, you are coming with me. Come on, let's go.'
'No, please, I can't! They kill me!'
'Listen to me, Nastya, here in Italy no one will be killing you. We are going to the police, and they will put those bastards in jail. In Italy you get paid for working. Come on, quickly, get in my truck.' Nastya was so used to following orders that she did what she was told.
What followed for Nastya was the scariest period of her life. At the poice station, big, tough looking, menacing men, asked her all sorts of questions. She was so scared, she wished she had never spoken with Elena. She knew that she would get the worst beating of her life, when Ion got his hands on her. The policemen were very abrupt, and kept asking her questions, about all sorts of things. Mostly she tried to say as little as possible. She knew this would end badly for her. She wanted to leave the police station, and go back to the restaurant, as if nothing had happened. She was so scared. Then, a kind looking woman police officer took her to a room, just the two of them, and asked if she wanted something to drink. Something broke in Nastya, and she wept uncontrollably. The woman put her hand on Nastya's shoulder, and said:
'They will never hurt you again.'
Nastya looked up at her, and the officer smiled at her. For the first time since she was a little girl, Nastya felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could get better? Was that possible? She decided that she may as well tell the police woman everything. In any case, just by being at the police station, she knew what was in store for her back at the restaurant. Over the following hours she told her story. The work, the beatings, the abuse, both physical, and sexual. That evening the officer, Nastya never knew her name, took her to a house, full of women and children. She was shown to a room, which she would share with another woman. The kind officer sat down on the bed with her.
'Nastya, this is what we call a safe house. We call it that because here you will be safe. Safe from the people who have hurt you, and no one will know where you are. We have arrested the owners of the restaurant, and they will pay for what they have done to you. So far we haven't found your passport, or any document of yours, but don't worry. We will sort that out. You will be allowed to stay in Italy, so you can testify against them in court. You can stay in this house, free of charge, as long as you need. Eventually, we will help you find a job, and you can begin a new life.'
The fact that there were no men in the house, and none ever visited, was a great relief to Nastya. She had found a world without men. Slowly, she started to feel safe. She got on well with all the other women, especially with her room mate, a woman from Romania, called Raisa. The two of them would talk about when they were children, back home, and how it all went wrong. The common factor was men. Men had also ruined Raisa's life. Nastya decided that she would try and avoid men for the rest of her life. She felt safe with women, but didn't think she would ever be able to trust a man. She helped out with the cooking, cleaning, and looking after the children. As she was so used to hard work, it all seemed like being on holiday for her. Strangely, she broke down crying quite often. She couldn't really understand why. Nobody was beating her. Why did she cry so much? Through all the beatings, and abuse, she had never cried, not since she was very young. Now that she was safe, she couldn't stop crying. When she would break down crying, the other women in the house would comfort her, but no one asked her why she was crying. Nastya guessed that they probably all had similar stories, and didn't need to know the details.
After a few months passed, she felt it was time for her to find a job. The woman in charge of the house had told her that if she worked, she would earn money. Nastya had never had money, had never been able to buy what she wanted, and the thought of that appealed to her, a lot. The only problem for her was that she was so scared of being around men, that she wasn't sure she could ever leave the safe house. She didn't have to worry about Ion and Tatiana, the police told her that they had been deported to Moldova, but she was just frightened in general by all men. Then, she was offered the perfect solution. A cle