Page 18

Aoi

I’m speechless and utterly devastated.

How can such cruelty befall an innocent child? How can someone harm a vulnerable being without scruples?

I taste the bitterness of the undeniable truth that the world is doomed to cruelty. People are disgusting and selfish. There isn’t one to help the other because everyone is too busy looking at their own asses.

Every day it’s the same. Children, women and men alike are all victims of humanity’s sins.

But no one cares.

Many pretend to care about others’ hardships. Some want to care but can’t be bothered to. Others blatantly show no remorse for their disinterest in someone else’s pain. I don’t want to live in such a wretched world. I refuse to survive in a system where we’re fed scraps as we fight each other to death for a piece of paper called money.

I wish I could disintegrate those who harm the vulnerable and innocent souls of this planet. So many deserve justice and yet are discarded like trash in the street.

Visha is one of them. He who deserves the love of a million hearts is thrown to the lions to be slaughtered for another’s entertainment.

And yet there’s nothing much I can do to solve his situation. Still, I want to give him everything I have and protect him from this rotten society.

Though I wonder what a suicidal man like me can do for a child emptied of hope like him.

I might have an idea but it’s nonsense. There’s no way it’ll work but if I don’t even try, then we already failed.

If I can blame the world for their ruinous methods and wretched hearts without even attempting to do something good for a child, then I’m no better than the ones we call monsters.

After all, humans aren’t monsters and that’s why the cruel ones are so terrifying.

They’re not some creature of the underworld. They’re somebody’s sibling, parent, friend, cousin, neighbor or colleague. We know these people and that’s what makes it so unbelievable. We want to believe that they’re not what they’re accused of being. We want to be right when we claim to know them, when we claim that they aren’t capable of such harm.

Yet, we know better than anyone else how wretched humans can be. It’s ingrained in us. Some choose to be virtuous. Others choose to be devious.

Some use religion as a reason to be kind due to their fear of divine retribution, while others don’t need the existence of a punishment to push them into being decent people.

And then we have those who use religion to justify their cruelty and those who need nothing at all to justify their insanity.

It disgusts me but I understand how we’re fundamentally rotten and that the Earth would be better off without humankind. Especially without men. Our existence itself is devastation. We overstayed our welcome.

Too many simply refuse to open their eyes and accept that the day the end of this world comes knocking at our doors is the day everything is set back to its rightful state.

“Visha, if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better and safer here, tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

He smiles and nods, conveying a maturity in those golden irises that is even rare in many adults. It’s a foreign behavioral expression of emotional health and wisdom that he shouldn’t have at his age.

He chuckles hollowly. “Maybe fill up your place a bit. You barely have stuff in here, it’s weird.”

“Really? I didn’t notice. I wasn’t supposed to live here very long that’s why I kinda avoided buying stuff, but we could go shopping together and you can pick out some decorations. What do you think?”

I wasn’t meant to live long at all , but I won’t tell him that. Visha needs comfort and stability which he won’t obtain through my being honest about my mental health.

“Can I really choose whatever I want?”

“Of course! You must have better taste than I and this place could use the fine touch of a little prince.”

His cheeks flush. “I guess I’ll make a list of things to buy to give your apartment more color. It’s all black, white and grey. It’s depressing, you know?”

I sure as hell do.

“You never hold back, mhm?” I can’t help but laugh. “I appreciate the harsh honesty. It’s better than being lied to for the sake of politeness.”

“I don’t like hypocrisy.”

I mock gasp. “What a coincidence! Me neither!”

The song of an angel sounds in the room as he snickers under his breath.

“If you want to tell me more about–you know–you can,” I assure, caressing the back of his hand hoping to soothe his bleeding heart.

“It’s harder than I thought it’d be,” he admits. “But it’s the first time I say it out loud and it feels…freeing.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, holding myself back from hugging him. I want to reassure him, but I don’t want to put him through unnecessary discomfort.

The acidic tingling in my stomach doesn’t subside as I scan his features one by one. The nausea lurching in me feels like a needle poking my flesh repetitively and blood crowding the space until the need to puke it all out becomes unstoppable. Yet my mouth is empty, and the nausea remains in my stomach, rotting my insides.

“That’s why therapists are so well paid,” I joke. “Talking to someone helps.”

Visha laughs, nodding in agreement. “But they’re overpriced.”

“My God, they really are!”

We settle in a comfortable silence for a while, giving him time to rearrange his thoughts before continuing. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s thinking about right now. The intensity of the disgust I feel can’t compare with the terror and unease he must be feeling.

God, I feel sick .

I feel like my insides are being torn upside down after hearing what he went through and for being so fucking helpless as he tells me his story.

I remain pathetically distraught by the physically painful sympathy I feel as my skin itches to comfort him.