'The man . . . the part of his face I could see . . . they'd tried to model the mask on what his face had looked like. He'd . . . he'd been such a fine, handsome young man . . . and when he looked at me . . . oh, God! There was such love and such pain in his eyes, and I felt so horrible because I could barely stand the sight of him!
'He . . . he would stand and stare at me, and there was this desperate hope in his eyes . . . and I could tell that he wished for a miracle, that I'd be able to look beyond his disfigurement and give him all the love and care that he deserved!
'Sometimes when I lay in bed at night, I'd try to tell myself that I would find the strength to do just that, if only to atone in some small way for what my father had done. But by morning my resolve would disappear, and I would get up and go to work, as I did every day, and things would remain just the same.
'I'm sorry!' she said contritely, withdrawing herself and wiping the tears from her face. 'I've made such a mess of your dress-'
'Don't be silly!' Anana admonished. 'Wait 'til you have a baby on your shoulder one day. Then you will see a real mess or two!' She gave Kara a shrewd look. 'Is this why you have reservations where marrying Roman is concerned?'
Kara squirmed uncomfortably at this, was silent for several moments, then, swallowing, nodded and said, 'I suppose. But, yes, when I look at him . . . oh, Anana, I can't help thinking of that man from the asylum and feeling so horrible and dirty and guilty!'
Anana considered Kara's words for some time. Eventually, she said, 'You will tell Roman of this. Soon. Tonight. No? Well if you won't I will.'
'I don't want him to know!' Kara protested. 'I don't want him to look upon me with disgust-'
'You're talking nonsense!' Anana told her. 'You must tell him. This is just the sort of thing he will need to know if he is to be able to help you to heal.'
Kara gaped at her in incomprehension. 'Heal? What do you mean? Nothing bad ever happened to me!'
'Yes,' Anana told her firmly, 'it did. You were made to feel responsible- to carry the burden of guilt. That is a form of violence, Kara, an insidious variety that is hard to see and even harder to define. There is nothing worse than being made to feel guilty merely for being alive.'