Ruins of Autumn

39• I Remember You.

•Over six months before the prologue•

    When she heard the phone ringing, Anila immediately thought that someone had sent her the intimate video of her and Blerimi, and now it was all over the internet.
 
    Shame tortured her fragile emotional state, and with trembling hands, she turned on her phone, went on WhatsApp, and saw the message that an unknown number had sent her—the video she was waiting for had arrived.
 
    She dropped the phone on the grey-covered bed in her room and burst into tears. Now there was no escape. She couldn't even go next to the window because someone could film her and make fun of her on social media. Her parents and her sister would get the mark of shame, and she would lose them too.
 
    She should have killed herself a long time ago. She shouldn't have been stopped by the fact that her parents would be devastated if they lost another child, and Visara needed someone by her side. Now they would rather for her not to exist at all than to have experienced such a scandal from her.
 
    "Ania."
 
    She ignored Visara's distant voice from the corridor and took a deep breath.
 
    "Ania?"
 
    Her sister entered her room, and Anila immediately wiped the tears from her face.
 
    "Ania."
 
    Anila woke up and looked with bewildered eyes at Visara, sitting on the edge of the bed. The latter stepped back, frightened by the sharp, harsh gaze of the dark cinnamon-brown eyes of her sister. 
 
    Anila turned her head towards her phone on the bedside table and took it to check for notifications, praying through her teeth that the WhatsApp message containing the video had been a dream and not an event in the recent past, but she couldn't remember at the moment that it had been realised.
 
    She had only gotten a message from her boss at work to remind her of the meeting at the company at 1:30 p.m. She left the phone on the black bedside table and dropped her head, a little relieved, on the pillow. It had been a dream. She was safe for some time.
 
    "What is it?" she asked her little sister icily, with her eyes closed and her face to the wall.
 
    "I'm going skating. I thought you would want to come too."
 
    "No," Anila said shortly, so that she wouldn't think more about why she couldn't go there and cry in front of Visara.
 
    "Will you get ready for work? It's almost eleven o'clock. You have an event where you must be present," her sister pointed out.
 
    "Yes," she replied bitterly, and she turned towards the window to sleep again.
 
    "Ania, do you know how much damage can be done because of sleeping for so many hour..."
 
    "Visara, leave me alone!" Anila raised her voice in exasperation, and her sister got up, exhaling from the bed.
 
    "You've become such a pain!" she remarked, outraged by her behaviour since the death of their brother, Amarildo. She was going more insane with her depression than Anila, who was in that state. "Go out with a friend, at least. You will rot inside the house the whole time."
 
    Anila covered her head with a sheet to hide her tearful eyes from the fresh memories of six years ago with Brunilda. She hadn't met her since that day they had their last fight, and every time Anila had wanted to text her on Instagram to apologise to her, she hadn't found the courage to do so.
 
    She waited until the door was slammed shut by Visara's exit for her to push away the sheet, let more tears wet her pale face, and the rest of them to end up on the grey pillowcase. She let out a muffled sound of sobs and brought her knees closer together, next to her elbows. 
 
    The suffocating reality often made her so aware that she would never be freed from the kind of prison she had been put in because of herself and some other people. Her mind only went to medicines and the knives in the kitchen as the only way she could be free forever.
 
    Blerimi was still a threat to her with their video and the photos he had taken that night. Who had those materials now? It disgusted her to think that her naked body was being used to earn money, gain online recognition, and create all kinds of imagination from many people who could even discover her identity and would want to take more intimate videos and photos with her without having Anila's approval. They could also hurt her family, so as to threaten her to accept.
 
    That feeling was stronger than the guess that perhaps Blerimi hadn't shown those film materials to anyone, and after he had been married, he had deleted them so that his wife wouldn't find them. He had taken revenge on Amarildo for Xhuliana Agolli, so he hadn't even made a copy of that video and photos because he wouldn't need them and the existence of them would only be a problem for him.
 
    It was such an assumption that kept her spirit alive and gave her enough strength to leave the house and go to work. Her sister was studying Architecture at the university, and her parents had retired. She was obligated to work for the family, at least until Visara finished university, and then she would also receive help from her.
 
    She hadn't had the courage to tell her family about Amarildo and Xhuliana, nor that the latter's brother had used her to take revenge. That's why she had been forced to listen to the praises of what a righteous man Amarildo had been—to wear black clothes for him—but that she had actually worn them for herself and still wore them.
 
    She had locked herself at home and had also isolated Visara out of fear that the one who had killed Amarildo could have planned to kill the other members of his family too. Anila had strongly suspected that the culprit had been Blerimi, but the lack of concrete evidence had led her to suspect that it could have been someone else, and she had to be careful.
 
    Visara was rebelled more and more over the years, not to be stuck inside the house anymore, when the killer was probably dead, and they were fearing for nothing, and after learning of Blerimi's death, Anila had agreed for her sister to go to school on the condition that she would accompany her in the morning and on the way home after school. She herself had started working from home for a cosmetics company, and after Blerimi's passing away, she also went to work more often to get used to hanging out again for Visara.
 
    The weight of holding inside everything that had happened to her was exhausting her weak spirit, and she was feeling the cracks in the foundations that were holding her up. The time didn't seem distant when the goblet would be filled, and she would either confess everything or she would decide to end the torture and put all the weight on the soul, finally freed from the body, which Anila felt had expired long ago.
 
    Visara returned half an hour later to her room and found Anila still sleeping, her face covered by the white sheet. Anila took pills to sleep.
 
    She placed the two plates of sweets on the bedside table and slowly sat down next to her so that Anila wouldn't wake up, alarmed that something bad had happened.
 
    "Ania," Visara touched her left leg. "Ania?" She reached out to pull the covering sheet and look at her face. 
 
    "You drove my soul nuts!" Anila stopped her with a harsh voice. "Ania, Ania, hour and minute. As if there is no one else on this planet but me." She removed the sheet herself and looked at her sister as rudely as the words she said after. "Are you dying? When you're dying, call me." She rested her head on the pillow again with the wet surface from her tears, leaned her head back to the dry part, and closed her eyes to sleep.
 
    Visara sighed deeply, hurt by those words, which she no longer believed that Anila was saying to her because she was depressed from the grief of losing Amarildo but because she liked that arrogant behaviour, and therefore she no longer communicated so happily and politely as before. She longed for that side of her sister's character that she had always wanted to possess as well.
 
    "Mom has prepared trilece." Visara didn't give up on trying to fix things with her. "I brought you a ration. Get up and eat. You will like it." She touched her arm in a caress, and her hearty smile faded from the silence received by Anila, who didn't even bother to open her eyes as a sign of reaction to her. "Ania, I didn't mean those words before. I said them out of anger at that moment, but I won't anymore. You are very good, and I feel blessed that you are my sister."
 
    Anila opened her eyes slowly, exhausted, and felt bad for the behaviour shown to Visara. She needed the presence of an optimistic person in her life. Herself wasn't always enough, and living with pessimistic people all her life was a lot of a challenge.
 
    She rose with exhausted energy from her bed and rested her weak shoulders on the headboard. Her sister handed her the plate of the dessert, pushed her long, dark hair out of her face, and smiled at her as she ate the ration herself on her plate.
 
••••
    Anila chose a black long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and black trainers and left her hair loosely parted in the middle to go to work that day, where an event would be organised to give some certificates and gifts to the newly promoted employees at work. She was the winner of one of the new positions as well.
 
    She waited for a few minutes at the bus station with a sharp, inquisitive gaze constantly around and occasionally empty in pursuit of the war square, where she felt like she was. Everything seemed to her to be only depressing, and no colour was enough to give her the slightest liveliness; desperation was at its peak.
 
    The silent criticism to herself, that she had been selfish by thinking only of herself and the situation she would be in if she had gone skating, made her feel malicious towards her sister, and she regretted that she hadn't accompanied her. What if Visara was bothered by someone and she had no one around for protection? Anila could've found a way for an hour to keep the lingering memories of the past under control and go with her; no matter how bitter they were, no matter how much they never stopped attacking her with mirages that Blerimi was still there, and his presence would remind Anila of how she had broken up with him.
 
     She looked at her sneakers and pictured a pair of skates on instead. She remembered the time when she skated without being held hostage by any fleeting thought, and with longing to repeat that hobby of hers, she moved her right leg a little, but that was enough to feel a stab in her chest from the knife of her memories embedded in her soul. She immediately stopped moving her leg and, in a stupefied state, returned the limb to its previous place.
 
     She brought to mind all those girls and women who were in her situation, and those who were worse, who had gotten pregnant from that crime, and hadn't been able to abort the child; others, who had aborted, and sometimes regretted for punishing someone, without being guilty at all, but they got themselves together, by thinking that even that child for sure wouldn't want to have been born, with that beginning of their story of their creation and remind their mother only of suffering through their existence, that the father would have taken the child, taken advantage of the opportunity, that someone bound him to the woman, and would torture her again; those who were forced to meet their perpetrator every day, but they had nothing in hand, to take revenge on him. Maybe he was also a part of their family. The other members of that family had no idea about his wickedness, and they couldn't tell because they knew that their other family members were going to kill him, and they didn't want anyone to go to prison because of them too.
 
     All of Anila's plans to kill Blerimi had ended up being crushed by her fear of losing Visara. She had thought several times to get rid of Blerimi by offering it as a deal to someone who worked in the underworld, and in exchange for his murder by that criminal, she would do another illegal job for him, such as the selling of narcotics, but her sister had been an obstacle again. That criminal, who would agree to kill Blerimi, could even want to demand more from Anila, and if she didn't agree, he could blackmail her with Visara. That's why Anila had agreed to return to level zero again, and she was brought down by thinking that she was so weak that she couldn't even avenge herself; that much a worthless human she was.
 
    She slowly stood up when the urban stopped in front of her, and with her head down, she only looked at the space on the floor of the urban where she could pass. She had sent the car to the service, and for a while, she would have to stand in the presence of people, thinking that when she was in the crowd, no one could hurt her.
 
    The two doors behind her back closed, and she immediately looked around for somewhere to hold on to, alarmed that the driver could start the urban at any moment and she would fall from not being able to stay in balance. She stopped looking in front of her when she met someone's familiar gaze.
 
    Two harsh jade eyes with a hint of the emerald green colour in them were judging her severely for her inability to stand unaided.
 
    The tattooist of over five years ago, Sidorel Nura.
 
    With a friend of hers, Blerta Mino, she had gone to his studio because Blerta had wanted to get a tattoo done there, and Anila had deliberately left a negative impression on the tattoo artist.
 
    Now, wearing a white t-shirt, cerulean jeans, white trainers, and having the same features she remembered of him, short dark hazel hair and a down-to-earth demeanour, only indicative of his age at that moment', not of that day years ago, it seemed as if he was also glancing back at her comment about the tattoos, only to affect him negatively.
 
    Anila immediately lowered her gaze, her pride hurt by his judgement, angry that Sidoreli had easily understood her need for help and was now mocking her.
 
    As soon as the urban started, she braced her knees to stay on her feet, but it wasn't enough effort to stop herself from being pushed further. He reached out his right hand to her, clasped her left arm, and pulled her easily to him, thanks to her mechanically taking steps towards him, as if her legs were programmed, to immediately obey Sidoreli's silent instructions, where they had to go.
 
    "Thank you," Anila said, without looking him in the eyes, guessing what kind of look she would get from him, and she stood behind some girls standing like her next to the window, although the tattooist wanted to free up the space where he was standing with his back leaning against the guard in front of the two seats, where two men were sitting.
 
    Sidoreli let go of her arm and didn't say anything. She looked to the right and behind to hold on somewhere, but several other women were to the side, and behind her, there was only a little space in the corridor for the urban conductor to pass.
 
    The urban immediately stopped, and Anila's body went in the opposite direction of Sidoreli without giving her any time to strengthen her knees so as not to move.
 
    He grabbed her arm again and pulled her close to him so she wouldn't bump into anyone else. Anila stood in silence, with her gaze on the girls in front of her and his hand steady on her arm. Sidoreli was squeezing her arm lightly, helping her stay in balance and ready if there were sudden stops again like before. The energy she had once received from him as someone who offered security had now turned into a feeling that she didn't need to be afraid and stay away from him because he meant no harm. 
 
    From weariness to succumbing each time to exaggerated suspicions and taking measures so as not to risk anymore, she didn't try to break away from the touch of the tattooist and ignore the intuition that some people were really, as they seemed, although she had been burned before, because she hadn't listened to her intuition when she had been warned about Blerimi, and now it was telling her that there was no reason to be alarmed about Sidoreli.
 
    The bus conductor approached to give the tickets to the passengers, where she and Sidoreli were, and Anila was forced to stand facing Sidoreli until she paid the money, and the employee left.
 
    The bus made the next unexpected stop because of a car that had gotten in its way. She immediately placed her right hand on his chest and her left under the right forearm of Sidoreli, whose hand had tightened her arm further, so that Anila wouldn't lose her balance even more.
 
    "I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed that he would think that she had touched him intentionally, just to get his attention, and she stepped away.
 
    "It's okay."
 
    His calm voice, seemingly unaffected by her, made her look up and glance at him for just a second.
 
    Anila wished with all her heart that Sidoreli would forget that day as if by magic, as she could not think of how much of a negative impression she had left on him, and she didn't feel comfortable at all when she imagined her suspicions to be true.
 
    The next stop was his destination. She went to sit in the free seat near the doors, and as the bus went in the direction Sidoreli was going, Anila looked casually at him from the window and immediately turned her head forward when the tattooist looked in her direction.
 
••••
    She noticed her boss, Ilirjana, in the yard of the company along with some other colleagues, and out of politeness, she went over to them.
 
    "Good afternoon," she drew their attention with a soft voice and vague notes of gloom in the spoken word.
 
    "Good afternoon," the others replied, and continued the conversation about the next trip.
 
    Anila listened attentively to distract herself from her thoughts and was afraid that in those moments her video could be published on the Internet, all the employees of the company would watch it, she would be ashamed in front of their eyes, and she would no longer be able to work somewhere else. Those who now smiled politely at her would later look at her with disgust and mock her.
 
    Anila turned her head from the entrance to the company's yard to fix her attention elsewhere. She noticed a man and a girl of about eighteen years old walking in their direction and stopped looking at the acquaintance on the left, Sidorel Nura.
 
    Did he also work for the company? If he were already employed, she would have already known.
 
    She turned her gaze to Ilirjana, who was saying that between Hungary and Austria, as a travel alternative, she would like to visit Vienna, Austria.
 
    "Will Majlinda also talk about the trip in this meeting?" Sonilda asked about the company's administrator.
 
    "At the next meeting," Ilirjana told her. "Today, only the prizes and the gifts will be given, and we will have a party."
 
    Anila had decided not to go to the party. She would take the certificate and the gift and then return home.
 
    "Will you give a speech, Anila, when you get on stage?" Ilirjana asked her. "The other colleagues wish to say something."
 
    "No," she answered dryly, as soon as Sidoreli passed by the group. "I don't like speeches."
 
    He turned his head to Anila and gave her the same heavy judgmental look he had given her at his studio, as if she were an arrogant person, pretending to have very high standards, just to put others down and make herself feel special by not liking the things that they liked, and he ignored her furrowed eyebrows in anger at being judged by him.
 
    What was his problem? She wasn't going to force herself to like things that other people liked, just to not be separated from the crowd, and he wanted everyone to be the same.
 
    Indifference to the existence of the dramatic man, just to appear as if he wasn't as arrogant as many others he knew they were, seemed to be the right solution, and she behaved like that.

    Her presence wasn't felt at all during her stay in the company; only when Majlinda said her name did she get up from the last row of chairs to walk across the hall and go on stage to receive the certificate in front of over a hundred participants.

    She didn't even accidentally turn her head towards the others in the audience to notice Sidoreli's shock as soon as he heard her full name and saw that it was she who was called to go on stage.

    Maybe he was getting alarmed prematurely and was wrong in his suspicions. Perhaps it was a coincidence that Anila had the same last name as Amarildo Idrizaj.