September 15, 2016
By , Birmingham, AL

     She’s covered in dirt. Her arm is bleeding and the sweat slowly drips down her forehead mixing with her tears. I slowly bring up my gun and aim it at her. I was told to. She’s vermin. A Jew. Someone already shot her kids. She’s on the ground holding her dead daughter in her arms with her son beside her. I can see the pain in her eyes. Right now, she welcomes death. No mother wants to survive in a world where her children didn’t. I’m doing her a favor. She looks up at me and tries to speak but no words come out. Finally, a whisper escapes her mouth, “Why?”
     I don’t know how to answer her, so I just close my eyes and pull the trigger. She stops crying. I look down at her. She stares back at me. Soldiers come to get the bodies. I did her a favor. Her blood is staining my shoes, mixing with my own.

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