NO FORGIVENESS
NO FORGIVENESS
A Novel By
HELEN NICKOLSON
Adelaide Books
New York / Lisbon
2018
NO FORGIVENESS
a novel
by Helen Nickolson
Copyright © 2018 by Helen Nickolson
Cover design © 2018 Adelaide Books
Published by Adelaide Books, New York / Lisbon
adelaidebooks.org
Editor-in-Chief
Stevan V. Nikolic
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except
in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For any information, please address Adelaide Books
at [email protected]
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ISBN13: 978-1-953510-09-9
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
How could she wash herself of the blood and the semen? How could she cleanse herself of the betrayal? Would the memories of being raped and sodomized ever leave her mind or would they always be entrapped in her subconscious to present themselves in nightmares? Yes, the physical pain would eventually go away, but the mental anguish would never disappear. She knew that for a fact, and she shudder-ed at what her life would now become. She knew she was to blame for what had happened because she had been so stupid—so, so stupid to allow herself to trust those who should be trustworthy but weren’t. All her life she had trusted so readily, so easily, and consistently she had been hurt and disappointed. She thought that something must be wrong with her to never learn from the painful lessons that had steadily followed her from early childhood, but she was an optimist and her heart went out to others too easily.
She had just been warned by her own mother that same day, before her mother left to visit a sick relative, to stay far away from Ophelia and, now, she could blame no one but herself for not having listened. Her mother had earnestly and sadly explained, “You, your sister, and all your siblings are special to me. I love you all, but I can also see that you are very different from the others, and you must learn to protect yourself! I hate to say this, but I have eyes and have seen you struggle to be loved and accepted especially by your older sister Ophelia. I’m sorry to tell you that this will never happen since, for whatever reason, she took an immediate dislike to you when you were born. Perhaps this dislike is normal when two daughters are born so close to each other, and the older feels jealous at no longer being the center of attention. I don’t know, but I have seen Ophelia rage at you and don’t think she can control it any more than when the two of you were only children. I’m afraid that she would again push you into the fireplace as she did when you were only one, but she knows that you would be able to physically defend yourself now. No, I’m afraid that she will do some-thing more warped than that, something that will hurt your soul instead of your body. Listen, I’m telling you this so harshly because I have to leave for one day and one night, and I don’t want you to let your guard down!”
Despite the warning, she hadn’t taken her mother’s words to heart. Her mother had always protected her and, in her own way, had caused Ophelia to be even more unkind and jealous of her. She had even defended her sister occasionally to let Ophelia know how much she cared for her and how much she wanted to be friends. However, no matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to gain her favor with Ophelia. Ophelia would simply look at her and taunt her by saying, “Do you think I’m stupid you little twit? I see how you kiss up to everyone and know you’re just trying to kiss up to me. You want the neighbors to say that you’re not only prettier but also nicer. Ha! Your time will come when you’ll wish you had never been born.”
Having heard her mother’s warning and having heard Ophelia’s evil words more than once, she now realized that she had been stupidly immature to trust Ophelia. She had been told more than once to not go anywhere alone with her older sister. But how could anyone have truly expected that her sister would so callously turn her over to that brute Giorgio? He had always been a brute, and he had so cruelly misused her—her body and her reputation. Everyone knew him and his family; everyone knew of their cruelty and heartlessness and disregard for others. The parents had earned their reputation and they had trained him to be as cruel and heartless as they were themselves. Those horrible people were a scourge and embarrassment to their villagers and to the entire Greek nation! Never would she have considered him for her future bridegroom and her mother would never have approved of her marrying him, as she made obvious when he stopped by their house the previous month to ask for her hand in marriage.
Her mother had been polite to Giorgo and offered him a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and some gliko as she would have to any guest in their house. This was the custom and good manners were expected regardless of how one may have left about their company. However, upon hearing of Giorgo’s request, her mother was barely able to hold down the bile that leaped to her throat, and Giorgo was astute enough to comprehend how reprehensible the thought was to her. He was insulted, but he believed in his ability to get whatever he wanted and thought to himself, “All right Old Lady, you may not want me, but I will get the prize whether you approve or not. I know how to make things happen, and you will not stand in my way.”
So, yes, she had known that Giorgo wanted her since both she and Ophelia had overheard the conversation. Actually, they had eavesdropped from the adjoining bed-room, which wasn’t hard to do since there were only two rooms in the house that their father had built. There was the sleeping area that the women shared, and there was the living area where her brothers slept and also worked as the living room and kitchen. It was there that Ophelia had thrown her into the fireplace.
Neither she nor Ophelia said much upon hearing Giorgo declare his love for her although both of them knew that he should have been asking for Ophelia’s hand since she was the older of the two. Ophelia merely grimaced and muttered that she wouldn’t have wanted him if he had asked for her, but she knew that Ophelia felt the insult and there was nothing anyone could say to make her feel better.
She hadn’t really paid any attention or given Giorgo the time of day before his proposal and she didn’t act any differently after. She had her own dreams and desires and Giorgo was simply irrelevant to her. He was not part of her life and never would be. In her mind, he would look else-where and find someone else and stop thinking about her. He wasn’t bad looking and some might even consider him handsome in a coarse kind of way. There had been talk about his availability and not all of the young women had feared him or his family despite their reputation. Some of them even considered him desirable in a risqué fashion.
She, however, was a very naïve seventeen-year-old in the little village of Kato Kourouni in Evia, Greece, which had approximately two hundred people. Born on October 10, 1901, or so her mother thought since no birth records were kept for females, she hadn’t ventured far from the villa
ge and had no desire to do so. She loved the lush, green landscape and mountainous terrain and, despite the physic-ally hard daily life she and everyone had to endure, she looked forward to every day whether it was working out in the fields or in the house. Washing clothes was especially hard since she had to walk down a steep pathway to reach the spring with abundant water, but again, she didn’t mind. That’s where she could talk and laugh with the other women and catch up on the latest news from those who had visited other villages. The very worst part about her life, in her mind, was that they had to use an outdoor area several yards from the house to relieve themselves, but she hadn’t experienced anything else so having the pit latrine didn’t preoccupy her. It wasn’t really worth thinking about.
The picturesque village of Kato Kourouni was in central Evia on a mountain slope with poor soil for farming but a striking terrain and lush vegetation where she would be content to live the rest of her life—with the right man of course. Katerina hadn’t seen much of the world and didn’t expect to. She didn’t really even care about the rest of the world and didn’t feel it could offer her anything better than what she at home. It was 1919 and World War I had been over for almost a year, and she was happy that no more Greek men would need to die. They had already lost about 5,000 and Greeks were tired of wars and fighting. Katerina and her family felt so lucky that neither of her brothers had been old enough to fight in the war, but they also felt guilty that some of their neighbors had lost sons; the grief on the parents’ faces was etched deeply and reflected the mourning in their hearts. To Katerina, it was incredulous that anyone would fight to death and be so cruel to fellow human beings. For that, she prayed every Sunday that the world would become a better place, and she lit a candle for those who had died so needlessly.
Whenever she thought of Giorgo, which was very infrequently, she couldn’t understand why he would even want her. It was obvious that she wasn’t interested in him, so she had figured that he would get the message and just leave her alone. Didn’t he have any pride? He should have realized and not have humiliated himself by asking for her. She had never even looked him directly in the face although the face was handsome. Whenever she had crossed paths with him, she had kept her eyes downcast and had moved out of his path as quickly as possible. No matter how handsome some thought him to be, she wasn’t interested. She had sensed his evil and sly nature and had stayed out of his sight as much as possible. The one and only time she had shaken his hand, she had felt nasty vibrations zip through her arm and immediately afterward washed her hands with soap.
On the other hand, Michael, the man of her dreams, from a nearby village is the one she loves and has loved for several years. Everyone always spoke so well of him, and he was not only handsome but also sweet. His eyes lit up whenever he saw her, and he, unlike the typical Greek male, treated her as an equal although she, like most girls, hadn’t been allowed to go to school; he talked to her of events taking place in the world and Greece, discussed why Greece had even entered the wretched war, and, most importantly, always treated her with respect. He had never touched her other than to politely shake her hand, and the rumor was that he was going to ask her family for permission to marry her. She had heard that and hoped with all her heart it was true.
They would make a good couple in both looks and temperament. They were both hard-working, honest, and kind. He was tall and fine-looking with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and long legs that she imagined were also muscular. His eyes were also dark and usually had a twinkle that reflected his quick amusement with whatever life dared present him. He was ready to deal with the world, to be just but to also defend what was his. His hair was dark and curly and she knew he would never become bald although she would love him even if he did. But she was an equal match and turned heads easily whenever she entered a room or passed by a table of men at the local kafenio where the men went for coffee or a drink every afternoon. That’s where they talked politics and thought they were going to solve the problems of the world although they pretty much said the same things day after day while their wives worked at home. Her body was long for a woman of her era and her curves were curvaceously distributed in a Rubenesque fashion with an ample bosom, small waist, and rounded hips. Her hair was jet black, her skin milky white, and her eyes a deep green. She knew she was a knock-out and proudly held her shoulders back and her back straight.
Giorgo, like most men young and old, had been struck by her beauty. He desired her and lusted for her. He had truly thought that her mother would agree to his proposal of marriage and that he would have this gorgeous woman in his bed to do with as he wished night after night. He wanted her so much that he had offered to forfeit the dowry that typically went with the bride. That he had gone beyond what any other man would do only made his embarrassment at the rejection more unbearable. Now that his dreams had been dashed, he still desired Katerina but thought she was arrogant in how she displayed and carried herself. He wanted to teach her a lesson and wondered if her sister might help him. After all, word had gotten around that Ophelia was jealous and unhappy that Katerina got all the attention.
Katerina had had no inkling of what had been going through Giorgo’s mind. She walked through her day with her head in the clouds thinking only of Michael and their future. But now, after what Giorgo had done to her, how could marriage with Michael take place? It would be a miracle if Michael could understand and accept what had happened without blaming her. She had lost her innocence because of Giorgo and Ophelia and could no longer expect Michael to want her. He, like all other men, desired a virgin on his wedding night and she no longer had virginity to offer him. She, the trusting idiot, had so easily been misled by her sister and knew that no man other than the brutish barbarian Giorgo would have anything to do with her in the future. She needed to survive his assault but could neither comprehend nor deny what had happened since it had occurred just a few hours earlier. Katerina found it too hard to think and felt herself starting to shake. Panic was taking over and she could sense her body starting to shut down. She had been attacked so horribly, so viciously! And, she knew that she would have to marry Georgio to maintain her honor and that of her family’s, especially since her father had died two years earlier and she had no male relatives old enough to protect her. But she didn’t want miserable Giorgo with his heavy, hard hands and forceful penis which he had used as a weapon against her. The thought of him ever touching her again made her stomach churn and brought a sourness to her throat, but she knew that she didn’t have time to get sick. There would be plenty of time to vomit later.
In order to focus and stay in the present, she spoke to herself out loud in a scared but determined voice, “Katerina, you must get out of here before that bastard comes back and does the same things all over. You need to get out of this dirty little pigsty of a hut that he dragged you into. You saw what a cruel animal he is and he’ll only hurt you again if he finds you here.” He had been so cruel and hurt her so badly when he pushed himself into her, over and over, without any regard for her inexperience, her virginity, and her innocence. It had especially hurt when he went after her from the back.
If she could only find some water and a cloth, she could at least wipe off his scent and the physical evidence of his abuse. Yes, she thought, she could do that and then some-how escape back to her own home. She knew she had to get out quickly and said over and over to herself: “Katerina, concentrate! You need to get out. Don’t become hysterical now. Keep your wits about you and you will find the way.”
At the same time, she desperately wondered if she could keep this shame a secret, but, deep down, she knew that her sister wouldn’t let her do that.
“Oh, my sister,” she cried. “How could you have handed me over so easily? We are of the same blood but it meant nothing to you. I wish you had killed me somehow without my ever knowing how much you hate me. You know that death would have been easier for me than this.” That betrayal, her sister’s, was worse than any of the physical tort
ure she had been through and tears ran hotly down Katerina’s cheeks. She had been taught by her mother and father that family was supposed to love each other, protect each other, and be loyal to each other above all else. But Ophelia had always acted strangely toward her and, in her gut, she had always recognized Ophelia’s hostility. Perhaps it was because of their looks.
Because of comments she had heard, Katerina had always known that she was beautiful and that her sister was not very attractive. They resembled each other a bit, but Katerina was light and evenly toned while Ophelia was dark and somewhat splotchy; Katerina was tall and shapely while Ophelia was squat and plump; Katerina walked lightly and gracefully on her toes while Ophelia sort of shuffled along a little bent over. Katerina had felt the jealousy oozing from Ophelia daily and had always tried to be extra kind to her sister. It just hadn’t made any difference. She had had to pay for her beauty. Inwardly, she had always known that Ophelia had despised her from the time of her birth. Ophelia had been envious of Katerina’s beauty and kindness, and it must have been fate that she would lead Katerina to this monster Giorgo for him to destroy any chances of happiness that she had in this world. As these thoughts ran through her head and emotions raged in her heart, Katerina found it even more depressing knowing that Ophelia probably felt justified in her actions and triumphant in tricking her.
Through unchecked tears, Katerina remembered how Ophelia had come into the house that same morning with a smile on her face and suggested that they go together to the August 15th festival in another little village only two miles away. “Come Katerina, our mother isn’t here but there’s no reason for us not to go to the dance. We’ll have to walk there, but we can do that in a about an hour or so at the most. I’ll even let you use some of my powder because I don’t think I’ve been very nice to you lately.” She knew how much Katerina loved to dance and how hard it would be for her to refuse going to a festival. Festivals and celebrations is what they all looked forward to. There wasn’t much else in the little mountainous villages of Evia to be excited about. Life was very difficult and the days were full of work either in the house or in the fields.
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