Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-five
Dearest Kat,
It has been a long time since I wrote to you, and I am sorry for that.
I know you must of course be angry with me, and disappointed.
I received six letters from you, all on one day, and words alone cannot express how much it meant to read them.
It is funny, katsikáki, that the way you write is also the way that you speak, and while I hold your letters, it is possible for me to pretend, if only for a few hours, that you are here with me. That is the greatest gift.
The reason I have not written sooner is a simple one, though it is hard for me to confess it.
Things have happened here, Kat, many things that cannot be forgotten and perhaps not ever forgiven.
Michalis tells me that if God put us on this path, then He must also be willing to understand the reasons for such violence.
Men have died at my hand, men who were not so different from me, young and brave and righteous.
They sought to steal my country, and for that, I stole their lives from them.
My fellow soldiers compare such barbarity to sums on a blackboard, but life and death are not so simple; it is not two plus two equals four, it is only zero, nothing, emptiness.
I fear that there will be a day of great reckoning for us all, but the gate has been opened now, and nobody can close it.
We must stay, and we must fight, and many more people will be killed.
The line here is held, but we are tired.
The mood is one of trepidation, for we know that Mussolini is as tenacious as a mosquito.
He will hover, waiting for the right time to strike, and then he will come with the fury of the Nazi power behind him.
The men speak of it often, whispers passing between the battalions, the echoes of marching boots following us to our dreamless beds.
I do not sleep, Kat. The darkness I hold inside is total.
War will not end here, in the shadow of these mountains stained by blood.
You must prepare, Kat. Ration your food, build shelter in a place that cannot be found, collect anything that can be used as a weapon, remove bricks from your walls, and hide your treasures inside.
The brothers Atlas and Zephyr will be able to help you.
Show this letter to them, make them understand what is coming.
Both men are fighters, and they will teach you if you ask them.
I know that you are defiant, but you must also be smart.
Do not allow your anger to make you reckless.
Think only of survival; do whatever you must to remain safe.
I wanted more than anything to shield you from the horror of who I have become, but to do so would be to lie to you, and that I could never do. We are one soul, my fierce girl. We are each other’s conscience, each other’s pain.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
S