Nameless Thoughts of an Onlooker

1

If you witness injustice and do not act, you are just as guilty as the perpetrator regarding the victim's fate.

What a joke.

Whoever first thought of that ignorant phrase was either full of bitterness or flying high on wings of advantage. I'm certain that the crowds who subscribe to this saying are the same people that, in unjust times, would throw knife-sharp glares at inactive bystanders, and by doing so they are simply continuing the cycle of abuse: these people are trying hard to rope in a completely unrelated individual, and so they can never be called innocent, well-meaning victims - after all, what kind of virtuous man wants to see someone else befall his same, miserable fate? The kind that is not virtuous at all, actually - just angry.

And what if, you ask, this remark is uttered by someone currently unaffected by injustice? I answer: they are hypocritical, virtue-signaling charlatans. They speak great words, and yet their own actions are as flimsy as a piece of paper blown to and fro in the wind. Even if such people do act, I will never believe that they have done so without taking a good, long look at the situation, ensuring that they themselves will not become the poor wretch beaten into the muck.

There's nothing to be ashamed of in being an unnamed, static bystander. If there is, then there must be something wrong with self-preservation itself, and that is a point that would be completely outlandish to argue against. Taking a look at the natural world will show us the same sentiment: a meerkat will not jump out of its burrow to save brethren that have been accosted by a predator. But, you earnestly say, the meerkat signals to its herd when it sees a threat, and by bringing attention to itself with its cry, it is endangering itself for the sake of another - is this not the natural world proving you wrong? No! Make no mistake: that act of altruism itself is done due to the sake of relatedness. The meerkat will only cry out if its close kin is at stake, but if a distant cousin may fall to a talon's claws, the lookout will stay silent - it will not place itself at risk. If a meerkat will not stupidly perish for an estranged relative, why should I, an unknown bystander, die for a complete stranger?

I shouldn't! I have no kin, so there is no reason for me to die for anyone, as a matter of fact. Therefore, don't look at me with those red-rimmed eyes and that lacerated face! 

An echoing crack rang out, a dirty black boot breaking the man's stare as it rammed into his cheekbone and pressed his face further into the shattered rock and earth below.

"Don't blame me, Eran. Traitors have to pay, and I'm hurting you less than the boss would have!" The blonde-haired man ground his boot, likely ripping the traitor's - Eran's - skin in the process. The attacker gave something of a slight shrug. "Although, you really have to thank us. We're letting you meet your sweetheart soon!"

A cacophony of boisterous laughter rang out, the sound covering up the occasional screams and shouts coming from the outside.

"Haha!" A sharp elbow jabbed my side, the black-haired owner giving me a quick glance before turning his head back towards the center. "Ryder's right!"

I made sure to squint my eyes as I stretched my lips into a small smile, responding with chuckling accord.

The semi-circle of soldiers fractured as they made way for someone; loud hoots and noises of expectancy followed not only the burly man, but the body dragging behind him as well.

"Here! Show him," The large man dropped the corpse, blood spattering to the ground as he roughly threw the woman onto the dirt beside the traitor.

"Oh!" Ryder exclaimed, instantly moving his foot as he squatted down. He carefully lifted Eran's broken countenance off the floor, gently turning the man's head to face the body lying a foot away. "Hey Eran, your friend Chiles - he's from the same village as you, right? - he brought your girl here to prove our generosity! It would be rude not to look!"

I stumbled as someone behind me pushed forward, another wave of taunts and jeers overtaking the small, shoddy house. My marginally different position didn't change my vantage point much - I could still see the center of the circle, past the heads in front of me.

The traitor's hand feebly reached out, his fingers slowly crawling through red soil as they inched their way closer to the dead woman's long braid. Eager gasps followed his every movement, everyone keenly waiting with bated breath and derisory murmurs.

Then, just as he was about to reach his goal - the boot returned, crushing the hand with a shattering force. Eran only gave a low grunt; he was probably too weak to even shout.

"Hey," I leaned over and whispered to Niles, the black-haired guy at my side, "How long was his beating?"

"Right, you just got here. It started about an hour ago, I think? How's the raid?"

"Basically finished."

"Good, good," Niles shot me a distracted smile, his eyes trained to the front. I followed his gaze; the scene had changed.

Both men were now face to face, Ryder cupping his blood-stained palm over Eran's cheek. The room quieted down to an animated hush, everyone seemingly knowing what was going to happen next.

"Eran, I hope you're ready. We've given you ample time to prepare - hell, if you hadn't gone crazy over some slut, you probably would've had years to prepare. Today wouldn't have happened to you, at least. Look," the blonde twisted Eran's chin, forcing the traitor to see his dead lover once more, "She was a good-looking woman, but there she is, dead, and here you are, dying. Was it worth it?"

No one spoke; the breathing and shuffling of the men around me became pronouncedly audible as we waited, although heavy silence thundered through the dank, sweat-filled room. However, even it could not suppress the frequent dripping ringing through my ears, rivers of sluggish crimson flowing down Eran's body and dully colliding against the crushed stone floor beneath him. It dutifully accompanied the man's low wheezing.

"What, dead already? Come on, tell me! Was it worth it?" A clear trace of annoyance swept through Ryder's words, the blonde lifting his free hand to execute a couple of smacks to Eran's other cheek.

To my surprise, the shattered man released a harsh cough, his rasping increasing in magnitude as he forced a gravelly response through his mangled throat.

"I spent my life watching the consequences of my survival, so to spend my death doing the same is my penance." He swallowed heavily, although glinting blood still coated his teeth as he surrendered a shuddering exhale. "Our penance."

A few wordless beats passed, and then - a hard thud. Ryder wiped his hands on his dark uniform, giving the body at his feet a light kick after dropping it.

"I don't think I'll be offering penance any time soon." The blonde scanned through the group, giving us a grin and a nod as he looped his arms around two nearby soldiers and started making his way towards the exit. "The traitorous lunatic croaked before we could actually kill him, but we're done here. Let's finish ransacking this shitty village and then get the hell out back to the boss, yeah?"

Agreement resounded through the group as people rapidly followed the smiling man, the soldiers obviously looking forward to the pillaging.

I didn't dally either, joining the packed line scrambling out the narrow doorway. While waiting, I couldn't help but glance back one last time, examining the two unmoving corpses. Eran's glazed eyes weren't closed, his swollen face on its side, forever unblinking, as it lay turned towards the dead woman beside him.

Was it worth it?

No. 

I don't have to know the specifics of the situation to come to an undeniable conclusion: Eran had made a truly foolish choice. Nothing is worth more than your own survival.