The Black Veil of Deceit

By Sophia Alexiou

Tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome, how can any woman not have her eyes feast on a man who not only has those qualities but also carries himself very confidently? Mustafa had all those external qualities and much more. When our eyes locked that evening, I felt like a teenager. My heart was racing, I felt giddy, I truly felt special, and in a crazy way, it felt like I hit the jackpot. I knew he was significantly younger than me, but I did not care. I needed something exhilarating and wild in my life, and he seemed to fulfill that desire. I had no idea that the wild I had in mind was the total opposite of the wild I ended up with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796044966

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Copyright © 2019 by Sophia Alexiou.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2019909157

ISBN:                  Hardcover                       978-1-7960-4498-0

                            Softcover                         978-1-7960-4497-3

                            eBook                               978-1-7960-4496-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/16/2019

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All names of characters, places, and establishments

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CONTENTS

Disclaimer

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1     What Did I Get Myself Into?

Chapter 2     Family Life and Marriage

Chapter 3     Divorce and Independence

Chapter 4     Passion to Pain (Part 1)

Chapter 5     Passion to Pain (Part 2)

Chapter 6     The Pain Worsens

Chapter 7     The System

Chapter 8     Tunisia—My Hell on Earth

Chapter 9     Getting Out

Chapter 10   What Was Next?

Chapter 11   Back Home

Chapter 12   Off to Egypt, but for What?

Chapter 13   Mother and Son?

Chapter 14   Vacation Time

Chapter 15   Round and Round?

Chapter 16   It All Makes Sense Now

Epilogue

Preface

They say writing helps you heal. My story is no ordinary tale; it is sad to hear and hard to believe. After waking up from that nightmare, a lot of things in my life have changed. It was a shock realizing that the world was not as innocent as I thought it was. I now hide behind the walls I have built around my heart, afraid to trust. I decided to write this book to speak about my horrifying experience and how I pushed through it.

I wrote it for myself at first as a healing mechanism, but very quickly, the therapy became an aspiration to use as a tool for women around the world. This book was no longer for me. It was for the next potential victim, to see the signs and walk away before it’s too late. It took me over three years to complete this book. It was very hard for me to write. It brought back all the bad memories; it made me feel sad, scared, angry, and terrified. My house felt haunted; there were moments that I had to pause from writing for long periods of time as I felt as if I were reliving it all over again. Writing this book brought me disappointment, resentment, and hate.

My name is Sophie. I was born in Egypt and raised in Greece as an Orthodox. My parents gave me the best of everything there is in life: private education, quality clothing, and amazing vacations. Some people may think I had it all, but I was deprived in many ways that had a huge impact on me. I wasn’t allowed to attend social events with my friends, and I didn’t have the freedom to date throughout my teen years. On the surface, it may have appeared as if I had it all, whereas I didn’t feel like I had what I needed to be a healthy teen.

I fought for control over my life. My parents won for a long time, but I never gave up, and eventually, my life was mine. I was in my prime, dipping and doing it in one of the hottest clubs in town, and that’s when he walked in. Tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome—how can any woman not have her eyes feast on a man who not only has those qualities but also carries himself with great confidence? Mustafa had all those external qualities and much more. When our eyes locked that evening, I felt like a teenager; my heart was racing, and I felt giddy. I truly felt special, and in a crazy way, it felt like I hit the jackpot. I knew he was significantly younger than me, but I didn’t care. I needed something exhilarating and wild in my life, and he seemed to fulfill that desire—I had no idea that the wild I had in mind was the total opposite of the wild I ended up with.

It doesn’t matter where you come from or what you do in life; mistakes are inevitable. They are made to teach us lessons, and instead of judging others for their mistakes, we should learn and support one another. Enjoy the story that is my life, and be prepared for a roller coaster of emotions.

Introduction

Most of us have that certain someone in our life whom we consider extraordinarily incredible. Ten years ago, my journey in life brought me to know such a person, Sophie. That first day we met working at a call center, I had a strong gut feeling that Sophie was different from other women I knew. Our friendship developed in ways I never could have imagined, and it sure didn’t take long before I realized I was very fortunate to have such a positive influence in my life.

Sophie is a devoted mother and a loyal friend. Despite so much chaos and violent abuse she had to endure, Sophie never fails to amaze me with her ability to make me laugh. This woman possesses an astounding amount of perseverance, determination, and never-ending unconditional love for others and for life. Sophie does not keep things in her mind; she says what she means and she means what she says and this makes her an authentic, trustworthy person. We need more people like her in this world. Her inspiration to write this book is hope—hope that, at the very least, one person suffering in silence is empowered. Her mission is to help as many people as possible, to let them know they are never truly alone and that someone is always out there somewhere willing to listen.

So who is this Sophie? Sophie was born in Egypt and raised Greek Orthodox. She was very fortunate to have parents that gave her the best of everything physical there is in life: private education, quality clothing, and amazing vacations. Some people would say she had it all, yet she was emotionally deprived in many ways that had a profound effect on her.

Growing up, Sophie wasn’t allowed to attend social events with friends, was forbidden to date throughout her teen years, and more. On the surface, it may have appeared she had it all, whereas in actuality, she didn’t have what was really needed to be a healthy teen. Her first marriage gave her three fabulous children; however, it was destined to fail as it was an arranged marriage. Neither of them could ever really have the true love other couples experience because there was no opportunity to find common interests. In time, her husband ultimately left her for another woman, and the fallout from his actions was astronomical.

During her emotional recovery, Sophie met a younger man, Mustafa, who not only was a tall, dark, and handsome individual but also had chiseled features and piercing eyes that ignited a fire in her that she never experienced in her forty years of life. As she went deeper into this relationship, his bad moods eventually transformed into hateful words, and often, she was the target. It wasn’t long before we all saw how wicked Mustafa’s temper could be. He became possessive, so much so that he forbade Sophie from speaking with other men. More and more, she saw that there was a serious cultural barrier. The desire to work out cultural barriers while lugging around unresolved emotional baggage through her life set the stage for several months of hell that included Sophie being heinously abused.

She spent an inordinate amount of money trying to help this man who ultimately had no respect for her, and she even tried to help him from being deported. She went from being a self-sufficient woman with some savings to a desperate woman working fourteen hours a day, living paycheck to paycheck in order to raise her kids, all because she wanted a man.

Sophie is a phenomenal person, and that is why she sees life to be not only beautiful but also precious. She’s counting on her positive vision to be contagious. For abuse victims, it’s not always easy moving forward in life, but Sophie knew she had to move forward, otherwise there would be no true happiness tomorrow. After years of healing and moving forward, Sophie realized her happiness wasn’t complete until she could reach out and help others. She wants her story of suffering and joy to not only be heard but also to be used as a lesson. Sophie has many years ahead of her still, yet she wants to leave something behind, hope. The desire to help other women (and teens) from falling into an abyss of desperation all for the sake of a man is now her life’s mission. Escape from the Darkness will hopefully help other women to recognize the warning signs in their life and get out of a toxic relationship before it is too late.

Chapter 1

What Did I Get Myself Into?

Curled up in the fetal position, my body trembled as I slowly opened my eyes in that gloomy, cold room. A strong, evil presence loomed; it was heavier than anything I have ever felt. My head was in agony after being dragged down a long hallway by my hair; and my spine ached horribly from literally being thrown onto a lumpy, smelly, old spring mattress. A foul taste lingered in my mouth, and the last words I heard were Shut up and listen, or you’re as good as dead. Then the door slammed, and I heard it being locked.

Shocked and bewildered, I tried to gather my thoughts, but trepidation kept getting in the way. There’s no way this could be real; well, that’s what my mind was telling me, but my body was in agony and telling me otherwise. I slowly opened my eyes and glanced around the room. It was lifeless with no decor—a tiny window with bars on the outside provided a view of a beautiful green yard, and off to the far side, I could see a house. A freezer was next to the bed, and the filthy old floor tiles felt cold.

Where am I? The promise of a fabulous vacation rapidly turned into a hellish nightmare. Under normal conditions, I could say that Tunisia is very beautiful and historical, but positive thoughts weren’t prevailing. With no way out at this point, all I could was pray. I prayed for my children, who were at home in Canada, and I prayed that one day, real soon, I’d be home with them. The weather was warm, but cold chills made me shake worse than any Canadian winter ever could. Fear infiltrated every cell of my body.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and glanced around this dreary room. I felt a sharp chill run through my spine, and all I wanted to do was scream; but nothing was coming out. I desperately tried to open the window, but it was impossible, and even if I could, all I could do would be to scream because the bars prevented any hope of getting out. I dragged myself to the door and leaned on it and started to weep. Pounding with what strength I had, I cried out, Let me out! Please let me out! It didn’t seem that long before my fist was red, and blood trickled slightly down my arm.

Trapped in a ghastly, horrifying situation, I had no option but to wait things out. It pained me to move around, but I tried to find a comfortable spot on that coil-riddled bed and crimped my body into a position that gave me some sense of false security.

I fell into a light slumber and tossed and turned most of the night. Sleep did not come easily, but I knew I had to try. My mind was racing, and fear was intense. Was he going to come back in the middle of the night? How can anyone sleep well knowing there is a raging lunatic only steps away? Thankfully, I managed to get some rest, but it was a terrifying long night. Stiffness, aches, and pains greeted me on this day. I had no idea about the timing, but I could tell it was morning. Slowly I made my way off the bed and desperately searched for something I could urinate in; there was nothing. I was petrified to yell for someone to help. I don’t know which hurt more: the physical pain or the psychological pain of having to just make my way into a corner, try to squat, and let it go.

Some time passed by, but how much, I don’t know. Then I heard footsteps coming toward the door; I heard the lock opening, and the door flew open. I didn’t even have time to think. I reacted and tried to make a run for it, but he managed to grab both of my hands. Flailing my body as best as I could, I desperately tried to force him to let go, and within a split second, my body was flipped and smashed onto the tiled floor. He kicked me just below the ribs, and pain shot into every cell in my body.

Please. I sobbed. Please let me go. I promise you’ll never ever see me again. I won’t tell anyone. Please, please. I could hardly get the words out, but somehow, between crying and taking a couple of breaths, I managed.

He grabbed my neck and pulled me out of the room; I couldn’t even ask what was happening. He dragged me into the washroom and ripped my clothes off. Filled with trepidation, I feared what was next, yet there was no energy to fight him. He took his clothes off, turned the shower on, and pulled me in with him. I closed my eyes and desperately tried to emotionally escape from my body as he sexually assaulted me. With great intensity, he kept slapping and yanking hard on my breasts. My eyes were shut so tight, and I prayed real hard for God to take my mind to a faraway place where I could escape. I think my prayers were answered because it didn’t seem like I was in that shower for long before I was back in the room. I had no recollection as to whether I dressed myself or not, but I sure was glad to be in a change of clothing.

I made my way toward the tiny window and listened to the neighbors fighting. How I desperately wished someone spoke English; would it even matter? Men didn’t seem to have any respect for women here. And if I got someone’s attention, would they even care? I stared at the blue sky and the trees, wishing and praying so hard to be out of this room, out of this country, and back home with my family.

Once again, quite some time had passed, and I had no clue what time it was. I sensed it had to be late afternoon or early evening. I saw a man stumbling toward the house across the way, but I knew not to yell. He was Muslim and obviously quite drunk. His wife was standing outside. He started beating her and dragged her into the house. All I could hear were her piercing screams. There’s nothing that can convince me otherwise that men in Tunisia are women abusers. I felt ill listening to that poor woman getting violated in the worst way imaginable, and I couldn’t help her. My heart went out to that woman, and I prayed for her as I plugged my ears as best as I could.

His footsteps came down the hallway, and I braced myself. The door opened, and he was in a rage. His anger was fierce, so much so that I swear I saw flames in his eyes. He slapped me and laughed and kept slapping me all over my body. I felt pain and immense hatred for him with every slap he gave me. His sadistic laughter every time his hands belted my body hurt as much as the physical pain; my pain was his pleasure, and all I felt was the strong urge to throw up all over him.

There was not a doubt that Mustafa looked like the devil minus the horns—rageful, evil, and possessed? How can any normal person have emotions that go from one end of the spectrum to the other in less than a second unless they are possessed? I had done some reading in the past about possessions, and I knew black magic was frequently practiced in many areas of Africa. Was this happening to Mustafa? Or was I desperately grasping for answers?

Sit down and don’t make a move. Fiendish laughter echoed from his mouth. If you move even slightly, I’ll be back with gasoline and a match. He stood motionless, yet his eyes threw out a look that was paralyzing. Never had I ever seen such evil; and worse, I was at the mercy of this vitriolic animal. I can’t remember how long he stood there, probably only a minute, but it sure felt like an hour. He eventually left the room without saying anything further; he slammed the door shut and locked it once again. What did I get myself into?

The Early Years

My childhood, now a distant memory, was very conservative—and boring, might I add. I only remember pieces here or there, mostly from what my mother told me.

My mother was a theater worker who met my father when he was just starting out to be a doctor. I am not sure what drew my father to my mother. Maybe it was because they were both Greek born and Egypt raised or that he loved the challenge my mother gave him. Either way, they got married and lived in a beautiful home maintained by maids and cooks.

Egypt Culture

Egypt’s culture and customs are truly cosmopolitan and the perfect fusion of many of the other cultures and traditions here. Here, the tradition introduced by pharaohs is prevalent as well as the tribal culture and traditions, and even the customs of invaders are somehow seen present amid modern Egypt. It’s like a melting pot here, where multiple cultures and ethnic traditions have created a new concept of living and a mentality that embraces new and advanced thinking that creates a liberal ambiance all around.

Egypt’s population is quite high, about seventy-one million, with the majority being Sunni Islam at about sixty-two million. Out of the rest, eight to nine million are Coptic Christians. Sunni and Copt are both sensitive and adhere to respective religious rules and customs. In Egypt, family integrity matters a lot, and the head of the family takes the entire responsibility to run the family in a proper manner, with great focus on behavior. The family integrity of the Egyptians is in sharp contrast to the nuclear family concept in the West. Here, people put special respect for the family value and family relation. Perhaps this is one of the reasons traveling in cities in Egypt is safer than any other top global destination, even for women traveling alone.

The lifestyle of Arabs is often different and often found enveloped with some mysterious facts. As a result, people often find these people mystic and sometimes offbeat. But in reality, these people are truly a friend at heart; they love people and greet people with the best hospitality. They often like to call people at their home. However, if someone expresses disrespect and unfriendly gestures, these people take it as an insult and they become aggressive.

The rules and regulations common in Egypt may seem quite a bit different, which can make people outsiders at Egypt at times confused. In order to understand the air of Egypt, you need to learn about their culture, customs, and family values. Once you’re able to understand and respect their values, traveling in Egypt will be even fuller of enjoyment and excitement.

In Egypt, Ramadan is a holy month for Egyptians. People celebrate the month with friends and relatives. During this month, Egyptians stay awake at night and spend time in prayer and spiritual activities. Also, they donate to charity and indulge in the renewal of relationships as well as sharing love and affection with one another. The Egyptian holiday season goes on throughout the country.

At the age of two, Egypt was no longer allowed to be called my home as instructed by Gamal Abdel Nasser, who became ruler in January 1956. He disliked Christians with a passion, so we were ordered to leave no matter our stature. Doctors and lawyers all had to leave. My parents were smart and spoke five languages—English, Arabic, French, Italian, and Spanish. We were expected to leave and leave behind all our riches, but my grandfather was very determined and refused to leave behind all that he worked hard for all those years he lived in Egypt.

He cut the inside of the suitcase to hide money and jewelry and sewed it back up so that it would not be detected when he passed immigration—if he was able to keep a straight face, that was. His efforts were successful, but as for many, he had to leave behind his house and cars as they were unable to sell anything. They were to travel to another country and start from zero, while someone else could pick up and continue living the life they had.

My mom was trying to meet the deadline for us to leave the country, but she needed signed proof from my father as they were trying to ensure she was not running away with me. My father was in the navy at the time for eighteen months, so she had to contact him, which was very difficult; and she advised him of what was going on. He then wrote a letter to immigration to advise that it was okay for us to pass without him.

We had to travel by boat to Greece, where we were greeted by my aunt who assisted my mother in finding somewhere to rent. It wasn’t long after that our neighbors realized we were different and started making fun of us for it. My mom was twenty-four and didn’t know how to cook or clean due to the way she grew up and had to hire help, which was different for the people of Greece.

Greek Culture

Greece is a country of great interests and diverse cultures. In general, the Greeks are particularly proud of their culture and speak of their country with an intense passion, feeling that the culture in Greece is the definition of their national and ethnic belonging. Traditions, religion, music, language, food, and wines are the major composites of the culture in Greece and constitute the base for those who wish to visit and understand today’s country.

Customs and traditions in Greece and the Greek islands are an important aspect of the Greek culture. The Greeks are very superstitious and believe a lot not only in religion but also in supernatural or paranormal phenomenon. Traditions and superstitions vary from island to island, from villages to villages, and from region to region.

Most Greeks are named after a religious saint. A very important tradition is that everyone who has a name coming from a saint celebrated by the church celebrates his name on a given day of the year. On the name day of someone, his friends and family visit him without invitation and offer wishes and small presents. The hostess of the house offers pastries, sweets, and hors d’oeuvres to the guests. In Greece, name days are more important than birthdays.

It is a custom in Greece to get engaged before getting married. The man has to ask for the hand of the woman from her father and close family while the two families give presents to the bride and groom. The couple exchanges wedding rings that are worn on the left hand. After the wedding, these rings will be worn on the right hand. In Greece, the