Facades

It was a Tuesday afternoon, I had just gotten out of school and started my daily trek to the orphanage, alone as always. The sun was not fully down nor fully up, a shade of orange covered the streets. It was that period between night and day, the period where you're left indecisive on whether this counts as day or night. It was neither day nor night, something in between.

But like all things such petty moments of indecisiveness must come to an end, night always comes, while it seems for a moment that it could get stuck like this forever, it never does. It always comes to a resolution.

On such an indecisive day (or night) I walked to the orphanage, my mood was neither good nor foul, I merely idly hung my head in disinterest as I walked.

During the route to the orphanage I would often take shortcuts here and there, I hated having to run into any of my classmates and suffer through awkward eye contact, that indecisive moment of whether to say hi or not was extremely excruciating for me back then, despite everything that had happened I still had some faith in humanity, some fleeting hope of genuine human connection. Despite boasting such a cynical attitude; deep down I thought a half-hearted thought along the lines of 'maybe having a friend wouldn't be so terrible'. After that night such thoughts became distant past.

I was walking down the main street before I took a right into an alley that linked two streets together, I used to take it everyday. It was more of a small neighborhood than an alley, there were several balconies on your left and right, sometimes you had people standing there smoking a cigarette or fiddling with their phones, the alley itself was anything than empty, it was quite long and slightly wide and so it served as a home for homeless people, there were some tents here and there but not too many, I'd say on a given day there was two or three, they usually kept to themselves and the alley was wide enough that I could walk past them without interacting.

As I did everyday I entered the L-shaped alley, I walked for a few minutes before turning right to the other part of the alley leading to the street, as I strolled I noticed an unusual commotion which caused me to look up and see it.

It was one of my classmates. She was pinned against the wall by some guy in casual clothes, she was struggling, twisting her torse left and right and trying to free her tied up hand while he attempted to undress her by tearing her skirt off leaving her only in her white underwear. There was no two ways around it. I was witnessing a sexual assault, or at least an attempted one.

I only really recognized that the girl was a classmate due to her uniform and the fact that she had colored horse tail style haircut, and given it was school hour an the guy wore casual clothes I deduced that he was probably some outsider who just happened to witness some girl stupid enough to take an alley as a shortcut. Or maybe he dragged her here, I didn't know. Regardless of how, it was here. Right there in front of me.

I looked around for a moment to see if anyone else saw this but no one was looking at it, they all just hid in their tents pretending not to notice even though the girls manic cries were unavoidable. The people in the balconies were no different, they each shut their windows and head on inside.

It was a truly bizarre situation. You would think at least one person would do something. Some hot headed youngster or I could only assume he was a known thug around these parts? Or maybe he was part of a famous crime organization no one wanted to cross. I again didn't know, but those would be only two possible explanation for an almost universal lack of action. However no explanation was needed for why no outsider wandered in. This was a quite large alley filled to the brim with homeless people, needless to say no one dared go in on a normal day, only me who got used to it more or less.

However, all of that was only an afterthought, regardless of rhyme or reason, it was happening, there, right in front of me.

I froze for a few seconds watching it, my eye brain still couldn't process what my eyes were seeing, in that familiar place I always went through.

Like I said, back then I was indecisive, I'm not sure what exactly went through my head but it was something akin to "maybe If I help her she'll like me." Or something of the sorts, whatever it was, it led me to intervene.

As soon as he put his hands in her white underwear and started molesting her I decided to charge in. I lunged forward with all my speed ramming into his torso and pinning him to the ground. I didn't really know what I was doing or what to do next, I just did it.

As soon as I pinned him to the ground he took notice of me and immediately flung his fists towards me knocking me back. The fist was not that powerful, or maybe it was but I was already fairly used to getting beaten, it didn't shake me up that much, however I was still bleeding heavily.

The girl was still in shock standing right where we left here, but as soon as she saw he was getting back up she tried to pick up her skirt and make a run for it but was immediately grabbed by the guy with one hand and slammed against the wall. He then pulled a knife out of his pocked and pointed it at me.

He then looked at me and said. "I don't have time for you now scum. Lay a hand on me again and you're dead." He said with a sharp voice then turned around to the girl again.

Back then I was still a runt, not much in height and not much in build, he most likely just thought a punch would scare me away. But it only made me angry. Back then I was often susceptible to manic fits of anger, It subsided with time, but back then was when it was at its worst.

Me seeing him pay me no mind made me angry.

Me seeing him now completely rip off her underwear made me angry.

Me seeing people act as if nothing's happening made me angry.

How much this reminded me of my parents made me the most angry.

Seething with anger I reached into my school bag to grab a pen then charged manically at him with all my speed knocking him on the ground once more. But this time I wasn't waiting for a punch.

"Filth! Scum! Animal! Low life! Fucking bastard!" I shouted as I stabbed his eye continuously, each stab causing his body to convulse trying to stop me, each stab causing fountains of bloody to spray rapidly all across the area leaving all three of us covered in blood.

I couldn't stop, I had no control over my body. I just kept stabbing and stabbing into the flesh even after he stopped moving, my heart was beating fast enough to cause chest pain, I could feel heated blood on my face and arm, all of which caused me to just stab harder. I knew once the stabbing stopped I was gonna have to face what I did so I prolonged it and prolonged it until I was forced to stop as my eyes were blinded with random bursts of blood.

Afterwards I got off his body and sat besides it, I was still in shock, so was the girl who kept shaking next to me. I looked over her way, I don't know why but she started screaming and ran down the alley covering her lower half with her torn pants. I guess it must've been a look on my eye. I still wonder what that look was to this day.

Nonetheless I immediately came to my senses, my first instinct was to just leave but I couldn't leave covered in blood. I took off all my bloody clothes and put them in my bag, but now I had nothing to wear, how was I supposed to go back to the street in my undergarments?

That is when I felt something poking my leg, I looked over and one of the homeless people gave me some pants and a shirt. I guess he must've felt guilty. I happily took it off his hands, wore it and escaped the same way I came in.

I was a hero wasn't I? Saving a girl from sexual assault? I don't think any other act could be more accepted a heroism by society. But what about the aftermath? Shall we perhaps examine that?

Police ran an investigation but they eventually reached no conclusive evidence, the scene of the crime was a dump after all and was contaminated in more ways than one. However they did manage to confirm I was there but they didn't know whether I was there at that time or just walking. None of the homeless people ever gave any testimony and the girl never came forward.

I was interviewed by the police but I didn't say anything, I didn't want any trouble and if the girl didn't come out this could definitely be made to be just a regular murder. As such the case become another unsolved case and just went into some drawer somewhere. But its effects didn't stop there.

Rumours spread, they knew I was interviewed and they knew one of our classmates had a sexual assault type of incident there. That's all they knew. But I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in the school, so the link to make was very easy and very straight forward, at least in their eyes.

Such misunderstanding could've easily been cleared had the girl spoken up. But the shame was too great, whether she was forbidden to speak by her parents or whether she herself couldn't I don't know. But the fact remains that she kept her mouth shut. She transferred schools later that year.

And for those remaining two years of high school everyday was hell. Passive avoidance turned to active bullying. Beatings were regular, snide remarks were always there and just general hazing. I tried to change schools but the orphanage wouldn't allow it. The air running there often felt like "just be glad we even let you go to school." It always felt everything given to us was some debt to be paid or something we should be thankful for and keep our mouth shut.

It was in those two years that my indecisiveness disappeared. In what happened to my mother and what the girl did I saw it; what a human really is when push comes to shove.

I'm sure some remain heroes to their very end. But in the end that's nothing more than them viewing other's opinion as more valuable than their life. It was the most pathetic thing to do. Be a hero.

Deep down everyone cared about himself. The only important person in your life is you. Everyone else can go to hell. And those who lives for others are no heros, they are the most dysfunctional people of all. It had been the thing I believed in the most. And still was.

I was no longer indecisive. No longer confused. I knew what I am and I knew what I want. I was the only sane man in the world.

That's why. When faced with the question "would you kill again?" I had only one answer.

"If I could avoid it I would. But if I had to I won't hesitate." It was quite a simple formulaic answer, one I had believed in ever since that day. And it wasn't going to change now.

However, getting asked that; remembering this story. It was just the push I need to go back to who I am. I was in a daze those past few days, still taking it all in. But now I remember clearly. I'm me. And I'll always be me.

"I see. You are a good man comrade...." am I? I wonder what a man who calls me 'good' is like? A fool or a devil? "...I think we'll be great allies from now on." He said extending his paws forwards as if to indicate a handshake.

I reluctantly shook his hands back.

"That depends on what it is exactly you want me to do." I said with a sharp calm look. He seems to have noticed the change in my attitude as he broke into a smile, but one different from before. It was more of a satisfaction smile than a boisterous laugh.

"Oh our task is very simple comrade, very simple indeed." He paused for a second then continued. "We only want to survive."

"Survive how?" I asked, I felt him leading me on and decided to take his bait.

"You catch on quick comrade." He said with a devious smile.

He then went back to his chair and sat down in a comfortable position then said.

"Have you ever heard of the black plague?"