Hate'n Those

I have no hate in my heart for them. Those that don’t look like me. I’d be lying if I said it was easy though. Most of the others do, and I can’t say I blame them. It’s just that I was lucky enough to be able to glance at a history book before they were all destroyed by the Bloods. I’ve yet to come across another soul that has even seen a book, let alone read one. The book I saw had a five hundred year old quote from a man who was a powerful king in the old world. I believe his name was Martan Lugger or something. He said that a person should be judged not by his appearance but the content of his character. I really love that quote. The book said he was a black man. I omit that fact whenever I tell any of the others about him. I used to tell them, but they would always get angry at me. One fella was so upset about it that he launched at me in a rage. It would have been a merciless battle too had not a few of the others intervened. Needless to say, after that encounter, the king was always of european descent. It’s not that I was incapable of handling my own. It’s just when you’re held up at one of these camps, you need to conserve every single ounce of energy you have.

The camp I am currently held up at is called Obama. No one knows how the camps were named. Although I can’t remember for sure, I think I saw the name Obama in that history book somewhere. I’ve been to three other camps but I am sure I have never run across the names of those before. The worst I’ve been to was called Tupac with the others being Oprah and Ali. As far as Obama goes, it isn’t so bad. We work all daylight hours of course. The work is gruesome, but the Bloods who oversee us allow us to take five breaks at set times throughout the day. At Tupac we were only allowed one break all day long. After work we all retire to wooden shacks. There are ten shacks here and they have us at about fifteen to a shack so I estimate that there are about a hundred and fifty people here. Well, it was about that number of us before yesterday. That was when they arrived.

Yesterday the Bloods, who always seem to be in a ruckus about something or another, were in even more of a fuss. Didn’t take long to figure out that they had received more of us and were trying to figure out where to put them. It wasn’t till after the day’s work was done though that we became aware of our new shack mates. I’m not sure as to the total number of new arrivals that came to Obama, but once we returned to our shack there were three new people there. Now there were eighteen of us. Prior to the new arrivals we were a pretty mixed bag. There were five men, seven women, and three very young children, none over the age of five. Space was getting a little tight before the new people so we were relieved to see that two of the three were children. One is very young and the other is a bit older. She is probably between the ages of eleven and thirteen. She is a very pretty and bubbly blonde-haired and blue-eyed little girl. She is probably a bit too pretty for her own good. The third is a man. He appears to be in his mid forties, and came off a bit peculiar. He has yet to say a single word to any of us since his arrival. He seems to be obsessed solely with two things. One of which is a heart-shaped locket necklace that he keeps in his hand at all times. He constantly opens it and desperately stares at whatever is revealed inside. One of the men dared to ask him about it. He was rewarded with a death stare before the man returned to his obsessive staring. There was only one thing that would break the man’s focus from his locket. That thing being a person. It was the little blond-haired blue-eyed girl. It was clear that they didn’t know each other as she didn’t even acknowledge him once. That would have been very shocking anyways since the Bloods always made sure that captured family members were kept at separate camps. The other men and I kept our eye on him and his obsession with the little girl. There has always been an unspoken bond between men at all the camps I’ve been to. We would never allow a man to do anything to harm a young girl. Well, a white man anyways. There was nothing we could do about what the Bloods did to anyone. At least nothing that we could live to tell about. As for the man with the locket, we men came to a decision in conversation amongst ourselves that after today's work, and we were returned to our shack that we would give him a good beating. It is better to be proactive about such things instead of reactive. After the deed is done, if it is not caught in time, there is no undoing of the harm done to an innocent little girl. Especially one as innocent and bubbly as she. It is better to forcibly remove any such ideas from his head here and now. We feel it is our duty to do just that. It is nearly quitting time and to be honest it is all that I can think about at the moment. I can’t wait to put an end to that weirdos’ crazy obsession.

The sound of gunshots in the air from an automatic machine gun blasts away at us. All the Bloods, who are always dressed in military fatigues and heavily armed, have one. The gunshots are always welcomed, but today they are especially satisfying. On que, everyone is making their way back to their shacks. I can’t help but to think of how everything probably looks and feels like the end to a normal run of the mill day to everyone except us five men. All of us men begin to cluster together, just behind the man with the locket, as we walk towards our shack. With stern faces and without mumbling a single word, we all begin to glare over at each other. This is our way of acknowledging the severity of the situation as well as to signal to the others that we were all in. My heart is pumping so loud I can hear it. I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Our shack seems to be a million miles away. Then suddenly we arrive at the door.

In single file order, we make our way inside the shack following behind the man with the locket. I am the last one. Ever so anxious, I hurriedly enter expecting the beat down to already be in progress. To my surprise there is no commotion at all. Everyone has stopped just after entering which has caused a bit of a backup. They all appear to be in a daze at something occurring inside of the shack. I am now puzzled beyond belief. In my mind, I would be giving a much needed beating at this point, but instead everyone is strangely just standing there. I have to know what is going on. I push my way towards the front in order to get a decent view. The final person in my way, who is also starring at the site, is none other than the man with the locket. I cringe my nose at his presence before making my way beside him to see. Then I do.

There are three Bloods with their machine guns drawn at the lot of us. They say nothing. They only stare at us with deadly serious eyes. Behind them and down, I see another one. It suddenly becomes clear. He has her. He is assaulting her. It is the little blond-haired blue-eyed girl that was so bubbly and innocent just before. The one that I was determined to do all that I could to protect only moments ago. She is in tears and has a look of confusion on her face. It is a look of not knowing or understanding what is being done to her. As the deed continues she begins to cry loudly.

“It hurts! It hurts!” She repeats over and over again.

I feel a tear populate and drop down my face. It is followed by another, and then another. I am filled with so much anger yet there is nothing I can do about it. It is the worst feeling in the world.

“Stop it you fucking animals!” yells a nearby voice.

It is a voice that I have never heard before. I look over and see that it is the voice of the man with the locket. He too has tears streaming down his face.

“You pieces of shits!” He, now crying, bawls at the Bloods with spit and tears spurting far from his mouth.

“You shut the fuck up!” Yells back one of the Bloods.

The man with the locket does the unthinkable. He takes a step forward towards the Bloods. We are all frozen with shock. He has the locket in his hand and is holding it tightly in the air.

“Damn you all!” He yells before quickly darting towards the Bloods.

Gunshots! Gunshots! And more Gunshots! My ears are ringing as I brace myself and fall to the ground.

“Get out! Get out! All of you!” The Bloods yell ferociously.

We all begin to make our way out of the shack. I take a moment to glance back and see the man with the locket laying on the floor. He is not moving.

We all arrive outside and each have terrified looks on our faces. My heart is now beating harder and faster than I even thought was possible. There is no time to gather ourselves before all four of the Bloods begin to exit our shack. Two of them are carrying the man with the locket. They drop his lifeless body just past the door and continue on their way angrily arguing amongst themselves. The women quickly enter the shack I assume to see about the little girl. The men follow. I am frozen still. I can’t take my eyes off the man with the locket. To my surprise he still has it in his hand. I reach down and grab it. I open it. I see what he was obsessively staring at just the day before. It was a picture of a little girl. She appeared to be about the same age as the little blond-haired blue-eyed girl. Under the picture is an engravement. It reads.

“TO FATHER, WITH LOVE!”

Tears are flowing down my face once more. I am beside myself. I fall to the ground on my knees as I can no longer stand.

I want to hate them so bad, but I just can’t. I know what most do not. I know their history, and I know mine. I know exactly who they are and how it is that they could commit such atrocities. I know this because I was once lucky enough to get a glance at a history book before they were all destroyed.

I have no hate in my heart for them. Those that don’t look like me. You see, the thing about looks is, they are deceiving.