Refik was released shortly after Alisa’s death. I feared my mother’s heart if she were to see him on the street, so I brought her to live with me. He married in Croatia. His wife had a daughter from her first marriage. When I saw their photo at the beach, I whispered, “God, protect this child.” Two years into the marriage, my nephew told me that our cousin and Refik’s wife had taken photos of him at an amusement park. I sent my cousin an angry message. Later, my nephew showed

The morning light crept through the curtains, soft and cold. February had wrapped the city in frost, and inside the apartment the silence felt heavier than the air itself. The baby babbled in the corner, stacking blocks with the kind of joy only toddlers know. She smiled at him, because she always did. Because he deserved to see her smile. Refik was already awake, controller in hand, pretending to be funny, pretending to be harmless. To anyone watching, he was just a man play

Refik had already been jailed once for kidnapping and endangering Alisa’s life. We believed prison might finally sever his grip on us, that steel bars could contain his violence. But even locked away, his shadow seeped into our days—an invisible presence that haunted every silence, every sudden knock at the door. At that time, I was in Zagreb, waiting for an interview that could secure my move to the United States. Alisa remained with our parents, finally able to sleep withou

THE FALSE WITNESS When the time finally came for court, we thought justice might begin. Alisa was fragile but determined. The courtroom was cold, the air was heavy with whispers. Refik sat there, smug, as if nothing he had done mattered. A girl who lived below them was called a witness. She had heard everything, the screams, the fights, the threats. She was the one who could confirm what Alisa endured. But rumors swirled that she was involved with our cousin Halid, that she w

A Bomb in the Rice While Alisa was still living with Refik, my mother discovered a bomb hidden inside a bag of rice. She took it quietly, her hands shaking but her resolve unbroken. My father showed her how to open the safety catch, how many seconds to hold it before throwing, and how to reset it if needed. Later, Refik confronted our mother, holding a bomb. “Tell Alisa she has three seconds to come,” he said. My mother pretended to agree. Instead, she sent Alisa away and car

Hope had once flickered like a fragile light in the storm of her life. But that light was shattered; brutally, mercilessly. Threats became her daily language. Beatings, starvation, and violations stripped away her dignity. Every day was survival. Every moment reminded her that the man she had once trusted was now the source of her deepest fear.   The violence escalated until it consumed everything. She was treated with cruelty that denied her humanity, forced into humiliation

One evening, while music flickered through the village hall, a man named Refik approached me and quietly asked, “Where is your sister?” I froze. Refik had a bad reputation in our village. People said he was the worst man in Mramor, just like his father. The stories about him were whispered, never spoken loudly, but everyone knew. I ran home, my heart pounding, and confronted Alisa. “Why is he looking for you? Are you out of your mind?” I yelled. She tried to calm me. “People