Artyom Dereschuk - Hate the Sin

The General and other adults were driving in roofless trucks packed to the brim; the boys were following them on foot. The vehicles approached the very edge of the village with their lights off and the engines barely heard, and then the General rose from his seat and let out a bloodthirsty war cry. Instantly, both men and machines answered him: a hundred voices roared in response, and the mighty engines followed the example of their masters, coming to life in an explosion of noise and light. The pedals were pushed to the floor, and the lights flooded the village with their gaze, as if the metallic beasts had awoken from their slumber.

In the lights of the trucks the whole village, which had been dark before, lit up as if the sun had come out to bear witness. Homewrecker saw the shocked and scared faces of those who were unlucky to be outside, saw the bullets tear through their clothes and skin, saw the flashing white heels of those who tried to run away.

“Stay where you are!” the General shouted into the loudspeaker. “Your village is surrounded!”

Homewrecker knew that it wasn’t the case, but he also understood that it was a ploy to make as many villagers as possible stay in their houses. If they were to see through the General’s bluff, they’d be able to survive; but they were too gullible for that. Nobody was leaving their houses, and a few of those who were running fell to the ground and covered their heads.

“We are the Revolutionary Brigade of Liberia!” his voice boomed again as his men started heading toward the houses. “For your crimes against our cause, you shall feel our righteous wrath!” The man threw the loudspeaker to the side, stepped onto the windshield, and threw his fist toward the dark skies: he reveled in his role.

His men didn’t need any further commands; they had performed such punitive operations in the past many times, so they had a perfect idea of what to do. One of them shot a person who was lying in the streets; they had to make it clear to those who were hiding in their houses that it was dangerous outside. “Stay inside,” was the message. “We’ll come right for you.”

The men spread out and took their positions near the doors. At that point, the villagers wouldn’t be able to escape even if they tried. The last seconds before the massacre had run its course.

Doors were busted and windows broken. The bloodthirsty soldiers—both adults and boys—were breaking in, eager to revel in the power they had over them, the drugs in their blood mixing with adrenaline to peel away the last sheds of humanity, revealing the beastly nature within them.

Some were pulling men and women by their hair outside. Homewrecker had seen it happen before, and he wasn’t sure who’d have it worse—the men, who’d be beaten down, tortured, and killed in the most gruesome ways, or the women, who’d be violated in front of everyone they knew and loved, with their survival depending solely on the mood of the assailant Others were staying inside—possibly to have their fun without having to share it with anyone else. Sometimes, a quick burst of light and sound would come from the inside of a house, signifying another death.

Homewrecker was not eager to join them—mostly because the drugs in his system hadn’t finished their course. Instead, he made a few shots into the sky, sent another burst of rounds above the rooftops, and walked into the village.

Desecrator pushed past him and rushed toward the house that he had visited during the day. Homewrecker half-expected to hear shots coming from the building, or at least to see him coming out dragging someone behind him, but Desecrator stayed inside.

Corpse Eater was helping someone with their victim, following the instructions of a soldier. “Get them back, bring them here, hold them still, pass me that knife of yours. ”Homewrecker could see that the boy didn’t enjoy it, but it wasn’t the time to argue. Corpse Eater had resigned himself to the role of an active spectator long ago. And the theater which he was stuck in didn’t take kindly to negative reviews.

Homewrecker shook his shoulders and moved on. The coat of heroin on his brain was carefully protecting him from the visages of hell around him, and his hazy unfocused mind could make out only individual shouts of both assailants and their victims.

“If you look away even for a second, I’m capping this bitch right here!”

“Your boy versus mine! Show him, kid, and this blunt is yours!”

“We gave you all the food we had, I swear! Please let us go!”

“We’ll see how you run now!”

“Please, take me instead! Take meeeee!”

“She almost clawed my eyes out! Hold her hand!”

“Whoever gets off my boys last gets their brains blown out!”

Fathers, mothers, daughters, brothers, neighbors—all of them exposed to each other’s weakness, mortality, vulnerability, their behavior in their worst hours. All of them were suffering both on their own and together, unable to escape or help each other.

“Come on, kid, do it!” the adults were urging someone. “Don’t pussy out like the last time! Do it! Show that you’re the man!”

Homewrecker came closer, and from a closer distance the faint light from the fires provided enough illumination for him to make out what was happening. A lone woman was standing in front of the wall of one of the huts, encircled by the General’s men on all sides. Homewrecker couldn’t make out what was she saying; she was bawling her eyes out so hard that she wouldn’t be able to speak even if she tried. Her eyes were full of the desperation of a cornered animal, and her hands were locked in prayer, aimed at everyone and no one in particular.

If any of them really wanted the woman dead, she’d be donning a large hole right through her cranium. But they didn’t act. Though there were other things they could do to her to sate their needs, they seemed to derive more pleasure from the miserable act she was putting on, hoping that they’d spare her. Homewrecker soon saw why they were keeping her alive and what was giving them so much joy.

In front of the men stood Puppy Slayer, with his assault rifle in hand. His entire body was trembling, and his legs were shaking so much that he was barely standing. It seemed like the boy would collapse to his knees under all the stress, just like the woman in front of him.

The men were laughing and egging him on to pull the trigger.

“Do it, Puppy!”

“Come on, pull the trigger!”

“Man, why do we still keep him around?”

The kid was freaking out, and his aim was wandering so much that he wouldn’t be able to shoot the woman even if he tried. Homewrecker was too numb from drugs to feel sorry for him; he suspected that they were keeping Puppy Slayer around for such cases. To have fun watching him lose bits of his sanity.

Puppy Slayer continued to hesitate, and the crowd was getting less and less cheerful. The initial thrill of watching the boy struggle was gone, and now they wanted something more.

“Hey, are you going to do it or not?”

“Kid, you’re making me feel embarrassed!”

“Either you do it with a gun or I’m making you strangle her!”

Tsetse stepped out of the crowd and approached the kid. He and Puppy Slayer quietly exchanged some words, although Homewrecker couldn’t quite make out what they said.

Tsetse stepped behind the boy and leaned in closer. For a moment he thought that the captain was hugging him, until Puppy Slayer’s panicked protests suddenly came through the background noise: “No, Tsetse, I don’t want to!”

The captain gripped the boy’s hand on the rifle’s barrel, while his other hand grabbed the boy by the shoulder.

“Aim,” the older boy commanded, guiding the gun’s barrel at its target. The woman wailed and clawed the earth beneath her. The crowd cheered. “Can you believe that?” Somebody laughed.