I knew evil existed. I read about it in history books, in the Bible, and in my fantasy novels. I was prepared to fight an evil that was distant, looming, powerful. I wasn’t prepared for a disguise. Or for it to be convincing.
I just want justice.
I want justice for all those like me who could not speak and make it stop.
I want justice for those who feel guilty for what they witnessed, although they never lifted a hand.
I want justice for all those that are not just hurt, but are made to believe they deserve the pain.
I want justice for those who deal with sleepless nights, flashbacks in public places and paranoia, indefinitely.
I want justice for those who watched unspeakable acts take place, but doubt their own sanity because they were the only witnesses.
I want justice for those that are trapped in their own heads, afraid to think lest they attract more violence.