The Labyrinth of Vukovar

By Blanka Raguz

In this thriller about love, betrayal, and the price of revenge, Marta comes of age in Croatia shortly before the fall of communism in Europe. After the atrocious war in her homeland destroys her innocence and her hometown of Vukovar falls to the enemy, she is forced to flee. Left only with haunting memories and difficult questions, Marta tries to rebuild her shattered life in New York, but the unforgiving metropolis holds challenges far greater than she could have foreseen. There she finds the man she once loved and lost, and has to confront the ghastly events from her past. Trapped in a labyrinth of secrets and lies, Marta struggles to find a way out and return to the light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 26, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418419707

Blanka Raguz

Croatian-born Blanka Raguz holds a bachelor of fine arts from New York University, Tisch School of the Arts. Although she has long been a resident of New York, she maintains a lifelong interest in Croatia’s cultural heritage and history. Ballad for Emma is her second novel.

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© 2004 Blanka Raguz. All rights reserved.

Revised Edition

Cover photographs

by Blanka Raguz

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/27/2017

ISBN: 978-1-4184-1972-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-1971-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-1970-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2003099409

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

1 Vukovar, Croatia, 1991

2 Spring 1973

3 1974 and After

4 Vukovar, 1979

5 New York City, 1979

6 Vukovar, 1979

7 Vukovar, 1980

8 New York, 1982

9 Vukovar, 1984

10 Vukovar, 1985

11 Croatia, 1989

12 Croatia, 1990

13 Croatia, 1991

14 Croatia, 1992

15 New York City, 1993

16 New York City, 1995

17 Jerusalem, 1998

18 New York City/Croatia, 1999

19 Vukovar, 2000

About the Author

In memory of Croatian soldiers and civilians who fought to preserve the beauty and freedom of Vukovar.

1

Vukovar, Croatia, 1991

It was a war day in the middle of November. More wounded people were brought into the hospital. Since there were no painkillers left, all amputations and surgeries had to be performed without anesthetics. The heavy screams of the suffering echoed through the hospital, competing with the sounds of detonations and shelling.

Emergencies came in one after another as Marta and the other nurses struggled to keep helping the wounded. The next in line was a soldier whose uniform was drenched in blood. She froze when she saw the soldier’s face, immediately recognizing his hair, his wrinkled hands, and the pained expression in his eyes. The man resting on the portable hospital bed was soaked in blood. His eyes were open and gazing at the ceiling; his body was shaking. Sweat streaked his face. His skin was as pale as death.

Oh God, this can’t be, she thought the moment she saw him, and she grabbed his hand, whispering, Dear … it’s me, Marta. Do you hear me? She called his name but received no response. He continued to stare at the ceiling with the same remoteness. Do you recognize me? she repeated desperately. Please, look at me.

His eyeballs moved slowly. His lips stretched into a barely noticeable smile.

A few minutes later, a team of doctors marched into the room and started preparing for the surgery. Given the looks on their worried faces, Marta knew that his injuries were serious. It seemed as if his life was hanging on a piece of invisible thread, along with her hope.

Hang in there, please. Don’t leave, Marta begged, holding his hand.

She heard no reply. There was just a weak squeeze of her hand, which gave her enough strength to remain standing. In the next moment, he fell into a coma. Everything around Marta turned into a silent, impenetrable darkness.

2

Spring 1973

The silence of a pretty day was broken by the sound of an oncoming train getting closer and louder as it passed through the sunny countryside—chugging along the river, through a spectacular landscape of wheat and cornfields, green meadows, and vineyards, and arriving at the rail sign on the road displaying the name of the town: Vukovar.

Marta stood by the tracks and waited for the train, holding and smelling the pebbles in her hand. There was an innocent longing in her eyes. She was only seven, and it was May Day of 1973—the day when everything would change. As the train rumbled by, she stood and watched the red and grey cars marked by communist stars and huge signs that read Yugoslav Railroads.

Marta’s fascination with trains had begun early in her childhood. She would watch them thunder along the endless railroad for hours on end, imagining the remote places they were headed to and pretending she was a passenger waiting to board one of them. Even the ballast next to the railway track seemed quite unusual, featuring a unique kind of smell, color, and shape, which evoked a craving for new ideas and unknown faraway places she desired to see. It made her feel as if she could reach the deepest ends of the world through the stones as she walked along the railroad, gazing at the trains with curiosity and melancholy. Every single train represented a farewell. And so did this one.

As it kept moving away from her, Marta ran after the train across the meadow of dandelions. After a short run, she eventually let go of it. Unable to catch up and feeling breathless, she watched it enter the town station. After all, the train was too fast for a little girl like her.

Marta strolled back to the nearby street, mingling with the cheering crowds of people who stood all around, waving red flags and communist posters. Obviously, the celebrations for the May Day holiday were already in full effect. All around her, the public buildings were decorated with photos of Yugoslav president Tito as well as the communist thinkers Marx and Engels. Moreover, numerous red flags displaying the communist symbols of hammer and sickle hung all around, along with the flags of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

Such was the May Day atmosphere in the communist country in which Marta had been born and was living. As she moved forward, Marta encountered a cheering May Day parade of the gathered communists, dressed in their olive uniforms decorated with red stars. They marched to the rhythm of the Communist international hymn, playing trumpets. Aside from them, numerous citizens stood by, watching and greeting them with applause.

After a short walk through the crowd, Marta arrived in front of the hospital gate. The hospital was a sizable modern building. From the earliest time she could remember, Marta had associated the hospital with her parents. It was the place where they worked and made a living for their family.

After waiting for a few moments, Marta spotted her parents. They waved to her, emerging from the hospital and coming close to the gate where she stood. Marta was happy to see them. Her parents, Ana and Filip Tomic, both enjoyed good reputations in town as excellent doctors. Among others, their clientele consisted of prominent and powerful communist officials who often pressured them to join the Communist Party. Yet Marta’s parents had somehow managed to abstain from making such a move and persistently declined the offers without causing greater damage to their careers.

As usual, Marta was happy to pleasantly surprise her parents after their long hours of work. Mama, Papa, have you seen the May Day parade? she asked, all excited.

We’ve seen it through the window, Ana said, unable to hide a somber look on her face.

Maybe we could go for an ice cream together? Marta was hopeful.

Not now, Marta. Papa isn’t well. We’ll talk when we get home, her mother explained.

Marta looked at her father, searching for an explanation, but he didn’t say a word. From the serious look in her mother’s eyes and the warning sound of her voice, Marta understood that no further discussion was allowed. Something was up; she knew it. And it didn’t seem right. Holding together, the three of them proceeded through the crowd in the direction of home.

***

A few hours later, Marta was completing her homework in a humbly furnished room, seated at the desk by the wall picture of Jesus and little angels. Beside the picture was a big poster for the movie Gone with the Wind, showing Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler tightly embracing one another inside a room elegantly furnished in colonial style. Gone with the Wind was Marta’s favorite movie, and she was delighted to have this poster on her wall. It seemed like a real treasure in her girlish world.

Although she tried to concentrate on the school assignment, Marta couldn’t stop wondering about what was going on. Why had her mother said that Papa wasn’t feeling well? What was happening? Even as they came home, nobody had told her a thing, although it was more than obvious that something was wrong. Instead, they had sent her to her room to do her homework.

A little later, she heard the sound of a teapot echoing from the kitchen, irritatingly loud. Yet it couldn’t muffle the quiet sobs in the background. Realizing that her mother was crying, Marta quietly tiptoed to the door and peeked into the living room.

She saw her parents sitting together on the sofa, having tea. Her mother was in tears. In the corner of the room, Marta noticed the light raindrops dripping through the roof and falling onto the cheap rug. The house was old, and it obviously needed a renovation—which they didn’t have the money for. No matter how many times her father had tried to fix the roof, there was always a problem when it rained. Yet neither Ana nor Filip was paying attention to the leak at the moment. They seemed totally consumed by some huge problem. Although they continued speaking in low voices, Marta was able to overhear their words.

"Shame … It’s all just because you took part in the Croatian Spring movement … and that was two years ago. I wonder, why now?" Ana sighed deeply, looking at her husband.

It’s obvious. A purge is going on. The protests of students and intellectuals have managed to shake up Tito. I’ve heard he’s even preparing a new constitution. And before he gets it enforced, he wants to get rid of all opposition.

How can we explain this to Marta? Ana asked, her voice full of worry.

Filip didn’t reply but only shrugged as they stared at each other. In a moment of silence, Ana finally became aware of the leak. It was such a mess! Anxiously, she got up and grabbed the bucket that stood in the corner, obviously prepared for such occasions. She positioned the bucket under the leak, completely frustrated.

I wish for Marta to have a decent life, Ana said.

I know. We’ll find a way to protect her. They can take my job from me, but not my dignity.

His words touched her. Unable to hold back any longer, Ana broke down in tears. Feeling sorry for her, Filip got up and hugged her.

What if they fire me too? she sobbed.

Hopefully, they won’t. You weren’t involved in anything. Just try to be strong. We shall overcome this. We have to.

How? What can we do?

We must endure. The communists have been in power for almost thirty years now, but that has to end. One day there’ll be no more communist Yugoslavia, and Croatia will be a free country.

Sounds like a beautiful dream that will never come true.

It will, my dear. It will.

Seeing her parents in such anguish, Marta couldn’t hold back either. She closed the door carefully, trying to remain unnoticed. In tears, she knelt before the crucifix that hung on the wall next to the framed family photograph. The photo showed baby Marta and her parents in front of the Church of Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.

Dear God, please help my father get another job … please. And protect us from the communists. She prayed with the desperation of an innocent, terrified child.

All of a sudden, Marta heard loud knocks from outside. Instantly, she got up and peeked through the door into the living room again. Everything happened so fast that she didn’t have time to think or even breathe. Her father opened the main door, and two strange men stepped into the living room. They said they were Yugoslav militia agents and demanded to talk to her father. They were dressed in gray raincoats and looked quite cold and repulsive with their icy, stony faces.

One of them pulled a warrant out of his pocket. Filip Tomic, come with us, the man ordered Marta’s father, who stared at them, his face totally blank.

Ana grabbed Filip’s arm in panic, as if to protect him. Why? Why do you need my husband? she asked, facing the agents.

One of the agents lit a cigarette and blew smoke into her face provocatively. Let’s call it a … consultation, the agent said, blowing another puff of smoke and looking around the room contemptuously. As he noticed a wooden crucifix on the wall, the muscles in his face tightened.

Filip took his raincoat off the hanger, not saying a word, and put it on. Ana watched him, on the verge of tears. He gave her a pained look and then walked to the main door. The agents followed him. As they all left, one of the agents shut the door behind them abruptly.

Ana shook at the sound of the door. All of a sudden, the space around her seemed claustrophobic, almost ghostlike. In the next moment she noticed Marta peeking through the slightly opened door of her room. Ana’s heart dropped at the sight of her little daughter staring at her, tearful and afraid. Poor child! What great terror she must be going through! Swallowing her tears, Ana spread her arms, and Marta rushed to her embrace. She held her little daughter without saying a word. Both were crying, a mother and her child, feeling the terrible weight of the harsh and merciless moment.

***

The night was long. At times it seemed almost endless. Hours went on and on without any news of Filip. Throughout the night Ana and Marta remained together, cuddled on the couch, as the rain kept pounding against the window. By the middle of the night, the bucket was almost full of rain, which continued dripping monotonously from the leak in the ceiling. All that time, Ana couldn’t stop praying. She was totally consumed by despair as she held a wooden rosary in her hands, praying and trembling at the same time. Her eyes were set on the heavy clock on the wall. At the moment it was pointing at 4:00 a.m. Ana sighed deeply, feeling that the clock’s hands were moving slowly. Too slow for her!

Let’s pray together again … all right? Ana whispered, seeing her daughter open her eyes. Although Marta had tried to sleep and at times even managed to doze off, her sleep was actually fragile, and she could not relax. She kept tumbling on the couch throughout the night and looking for her father over and over again.

Ana began to pray. Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name …

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, Marta continued along with her.

And so they kept praying through the night, remaining watchful. Both were terrified of the morning and what it was about to bring.

A few hours later, as daylight penetrated the living room, Ana was still praying. Exhausted from fear and worry, Marta had finally fallen asleep in her arms. Watching the sunlight, Ana stared ahead, feeling on edge and not knowing what to expect of the new day.

Hearing a sudden knock on the door, she turned. Who could be arriving at their home so early? Was it someone bearing news or yet another Yugoslav agent? Ana felt fear taking over her entire body. She pulled away from Marta slowly, trying not to wake her up. Whatever it was, she had to face it. On the way to the door, she held her rosary, struggling to remain strong. With her trembling hands she turned the key and opened the door.

In front of her was Filip. He stood all alone. His face was bruised and his body visibly exhausted. He must have been through hell. Yet Ana couldn’t believe the sight. It was overwhelming. Filip was alive! Regardless of everything, he was back home and breathing! They stared at each other, overcome by emotion, each unable to comprehend the moment. Then she moved toward him and embraced him tight as if to assure herself that no one would take him away again.

Filip put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. She was so warm and comforting. What a relief it was to feel her closeness! What a joy it was to be reunited with the family!

As if she felt something, Marta opened her eyes. At the sight of her father standing there, embracing her mother, a happy smile glistened on her face. Papa! Papa! Marta exclaimed joyfully and jumped off the couch, rushing to his embrace. Her happiness had no boundaries. Her father was back! He was alive! Nothing else mattered anymore, at least for the moment.

3

1974 and After

After the ugly episode with the Yugoslav agents, nothing was the same as it used to be for Marta and her parents. Everything that was going on was hard for Marta to understand, especially political developments that were behind the family’s troubles. It was a strange time for Marta on many levels. Although still a child, she tried to sort things out in her head. For as long as she could remember, she had known there were two kinds of truths. There was a truth spoken secretly within the walls of her home and another truth spoken in the school and general public. This other, second truth was imposed by the communists. Even at the earliest stage Marta had been able to distinguish between the two and had learned how to balance out the ideas. She always believed that the truth spoken by her parents in the privacy of her home was the real one, whereas the stuff she was taught by the communists was artificial and enforced by the regime. From the earliest time, Marta had understood that living her life was something like acting in the theater. She had to play her role of good student and loyal subject to the state, even at an early age. It was all about suppressing her thoughts and emotions deep inside and not showing to the communists that she didn’t really like their imposed set of values. Marta eventually developed a peculiar instinct that helped her recognize what was allowed and what could put her and her loved ones in danger. From the earliest age, she learned the fundamental rules of survival in Tito’s Yugoslavia, the most important of which was praising and glorifying Tito as the great leader and marshal of Yugoslavia and never raising any questions or bringing up any issues that could upset the authorities or clash with the communist worldview. In her own way Marta did her best to fit in with the majority of her schoolmates while following her individual path at the same time and having a normal childhood.

Marta’s family lived in the town of Vukovar, which was a moderately sized community where people aimed to lead ordinary lives. Yet many of them also had a tendency to mind other people’s business. Some even used to spy on the others, which Marta wasn’t quite aware of at such an early age. The system was so corrupt that it pushed people to spy and report to the communists on their neighbors, friends, colleagues, relatives, and even spouses and lovers. They had to keep reporting on other people’s opinions and conduct for the communists’ purpose of screening the citizens, identifying the anticommunists among them, and punishing them in a timely manner to avoid further threats to the ruling communist elite and their corrupt regime. Prevention, brainwashing, manipulation, and repression were some of the key tools of the communist agenda. Preventing people from having certain views and actions, from reading anticommunist materials, or from having critical conversations about the current regime meant paving the way for the secure future of the ruling Communist Party and eliminating its potential enemies. For any individual who dared to have challenging or critical thoughts, communist Yugoslavia was a prison of body and mind. It was considered dangerous to criticize the regime in any way or to criticize the country’s supreme leader, the marshal and the president of Yugoslavia—Josip Broz Tito. Throughout Marta’s childhood Tito remained almost a pagan communist godlike figure. He was the ultimate authority figure, celebrated and placed high above the masses. His image was shaped such that he was considered untouchable and infallible in the eyes of his subjects. It was a perfect product of successful brainwashing propaganda, essential to the communists. In such an atmosphere where children were influenced from the earliest age and taught to love Tito, Yugoslavia and the communist system were educational pillars of the society. However, for children such as Marta who were growing up in families critical of communism, it was hard to ignore the facts and pretend to be loyal to the communist doctrine. Yet Marta and those like her knew that they were always being watched either by their teachers or by fellow schoolmates, especially those whose parents were active Communist Party members. Marta was especially aware of that and tried to be careful at all times not to blurt out something wrong, for fear of her parents being punished by either imprisonment or political persecution.

Aside from all those difficult elements, Marta’s hometown of Vukovar was a relatively safe and picturesque place to live. It was an architectural blend of modern and old, a symbiosis of styles with a dominance of baroque and socialist realism. The town was located on the banks of the river Danube, at the most eastern spot of the Socialist Republic of Croatia, which at the time was one of the republics within the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Besides being ruled by the communists, Yugoslavia was situated on the crossroads of the Soviet-controlled European East and the pro-democratic capitalist European West. The country held a rather significant geostrategic position that was well used by Tito, who took advantage of it in order to serve his own interests and the interests of his party. Most of the period of Tito’s rule was also a time of the Cold War and great division between the worlds. The so-called Western Bloc represented prosperity and democracy, and the East was covered by the iron curtain of communism, behind which many people were suffering all kinds of human rights abuses and persecutions. Placed in the middle between the two blocs, Tito’s Yugoslavia was set apart by an apparently milder version of communism in comparison with the Soviet Union and other European countries of the Warsaw Pact, yet it was inhumane and repressive in many ways. However, people considered it a significant relief that, unlike in other communist countries, Yugoslav citizens were allowed to travel abroad as long as they were not involved in any anti-regime political activities. Thus, people who wanted to live peaceful lives and stay out of trouble had to keep their mouths shut and stay away from sociopolitical issues, pretending to neither see nor hear any evil.

Yet regardless of the ongoing political issues and her parents’ personal struggles with the system, Marta’s life was mostly peaceful. She lived in a somewhat shabby but comfortable house that used to be her grandfather’s property. The house was not far from the Danube and was located in the heart of Vukovar. In mostly difficult economic and political circumstances, Marta’s parents strove to provide her with the best, although it wasn’t quite easy for them. Besides dealing with numerous other problems, they were faced with constant pressures to join the Communist Party. Yet somehow, they bravely resisted such demands and remained dedicated Catholics and private citizens who regularly attended religious services, generally unpopular in the eyes of the regime. Intellectuals like them were especially watched by the communist espionage, who found their religious devotion contemptuous. However, Ana and Filip remained firmly committed to their beliefs, conveying the same religious ethics to Marta as their only child.

At the time of Marta’s growing up, church attendance was seen as the only way of expressing the hidden pro-democratic views of the freedom-loving citizens and anticommunists who suffered repression by the Yugoslav communist regime. Through their faith in God, people still dared to demonstrate that their minds and their will were not going to be crushed by the communist dictatorship. It was a challenging time for anyone not belonging to the Communist Party because no matter how hard some people strived to remain uninvolved and untouched by politics, it was literally impossible to achieve any results in a claustrophobic and mind-controlling totalitarian atmosphere without receiving the green light from the party. The party ruled literally all aspects of the society, deciding who would be allowed to live and prosper and who would not.

In such a political climate, after her father lost his job, Marta began encountering an increasing number of problems. In a town like Vukovar it wasn’t possible to hide anything from the public view. Already a few days after Filip was fired from the hospital, everyone knew what had happened and secretly buzzed about it, avoiding comments on the political aspects of his job loss. In the following weeks and months he tried to secure another job in the medical field or any kind of office position anywhere else, but eventually he had to give up. For a while he remained at home, but that turned out to be the worst option since the household bills could not be paid by only a single salary. Eventually, upon failing to find alternate employment that would be more appropriate to his professional skills, Filip began working as a physical laborer in order to provide for the family. There was simply no other choice since he was apparently blocked from the party circles and couldn’t get anything else. Soon afterward Marta began encountering the unfolding bitter consequences of her father’s social decay as she became a target of her peers’ mockery.

It all began one morning on the way to school when Marta met up with her classmates Sonja and Katja, who were walking in the same direction to school. A little later, as the three of them took a different route than usual in order to cut their path short, they passed a huge hangar slightly removed from the street. Among the workers dressed in the identical blue uniforms and carrying and loading cargo from the hangar into the trucks, Marta noticed her father. He was bathed in sweat as he carried some heavy boxes. Obviously, he was exhausted and humiliated by the harsh working conditions. As he noticed Marta walking by with her classmates, he smiled and waved to her. She waved back, saddened to see him struggling like that. Her reaction didn’t escape Katja’s watchful eye.

Isn’t that your father? Katja asked curiously.

Marta nodded, feeling uncomfortable and sad at the same time.

Why is he here? Isn’t he a doctor? Katja asked.

Marta shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say. Really, what could she tell them? She knew she had to keep quiet about her father’s problems with the system. Her lack of response intrigued her schoolmates even more. Both Katja and Sonja laughed mockingly, realizing that something was up.

You know, my father always says that there is something fishy when a doctor or a professor becomes a physical worker overnight, Sonja pointed out. He must’ve done something wrong to end up like this.

Marta felt a throbbing in her chest. Sonja’s words were so mean! She had to defend her father! He hasn’t done anything, Marta said, unable to handle the provocation. Come on, we better hurry up, or we’ll be late for school. She rushed ahead.

As she sped up her pace and left Sonja and Katja behind, the two exchanged meaningful looks and burst into laughter. Marta, my father is a Yugoslav Army officer, Sonja insisted. "He knows everything that’s going on in town. Don’t think you can hide anything from us!"

That’s right, Sonja! Ask your father! Katja exclaimed.

Marta felt as if she were about to puke. Her schoolmates were so mean. It seemed as if they took pleasure from her family’s struggles.

Marta turned back and cut them off. Mind your own business, both of you! She had had enough and wasn’t going to allow them to insult her father any further. Red from fury, she sped up even more, leaving them behind. She couldn’t stand their mockery! It hurt so much! They’d always been kind of mean but never like that day. Thinking about everything, Marta realized that for as long as her father had worked as a doctor, her schoolmates had showed her at least some kind of decency, although they had always bullied her in a way. But now that her father had been forced into physical labor and was degraded in their eyes, they would lose their last bits of concern and begin treating her worse than ever. It was so sad! Marta tried her best not to cry, although she wasn’t quite able to hold back the emotion. Hearing the accusatory words about her father and feeling exposed to her schoolmates’ bullying was unbearably hard. She hoped that this awful situation would change by some miracle and that her father would get back his job at the hospital. Only this would silence the hurtful comments.

Marta walked as fast as her legs could carry her and soon found escape in the solitude of a school theater. Luckily, the theater was empty since no rehearsals were scheduled yet. All alone, Marta remained in the theater for about twenty minutes until she calmed down and found enough strength to join the class. She was almost never late for school, but this time she felt so beaten up by her schoolmates that she needed to regain her composure. Like many times before, the peacefulness and the mystique of the empty theater filled her with serenity and content. It had been her place of refuge from the first time she had stepped inside of it. As she climbed onto the stage, she slowly relaxed and began talking out loud, improvising something totally spontaneous in order to forget reality. It actually worked! After a few moments on the stage, she became another person, transforming herself into one of the characters from her vivid imagination and shutting out all exterior influences. Once again she was at peace. And more than anything, she felt free! This kind of cathartic entertainment held no boundaries, giving her the possibility to become anything her imagination could conjure. Again, she felt her soul being flooded with peacefulness and joy. If only she could remain on the stage forever! If only she didn’t have to return to the class and suffer the consequences of her schoolmates’ ruthless, selfish behavior! How miserable they actually must be, Marta thought, recalling her mother’s usual saying that lack of goodness and compassion in people was living proof of their own spiritual misery.

As she heard the school bell ringing and marking the beginning of a lecture, Marta knew her time was up. She had to leave the theater and join the class if she didn’t want to end up in trouble. Yet she did feel better. No matter how hurt she was by her schoolmates’ bullying, she decided not to allow them to crush her. On her way out, she recalled the words her father often used to say to her: Always remember who you are, your pride and dignity. And don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.

That’s exactly what Marta intended to do. Although she was just a child, her heart was big enough to conquer the obstacles in the way of her search for happiness. Despite everything, she felt there were still good things waiting for her somewhere along the road.

Everything shall come to pass, she thought, recalling another saying. Indeed, that was true. Even the harsh times that had come with her father’s loss of job would end someday. When? She couldn’t tell. But no matter what, she knew she would make it through by keeping the faith and believing in her dreams.

4

Vukovar, 1979

Several years later, Marta’s life in Vukovar hadn’t changed very much, at least on the surface. As trains continued passing through the town and fascinating her imagination, Marta had grown up and reached her teenage years. She attended school and continued her involvement in theater as her greatest source of personal fulfillment and joy. Her mother had managed to keep her job in the hospital, and her father still worked as a physical laborer.

Even years later, he was not allowed to practice medicine and return to his position. In general, the situation with Marta’s schoolmates was also more or less the same. Through time Marta had remained the subject of their constant bullying. Although older, her schoolmates hadn’t become any wiser or developed better characters. As a result of their mean and abusive behavior, Marta was forced to withdraw even deeper into the world of her imagination and to keep avoiding their company as much as possible. As much as she could, she shut them out of her personal little world, not allowing them to get close. In the wonderful realm of her interests, such as Hollywood movies, music, and books, there was hardly any space for