It Doesn’t Matter What I Am (Entry Seven)

Once upon a time, there was a tragic tale that repeated itself over and over and over again, echoing through the centuries until everyone was so used to it that they paid it no more heed than the wind. The voices of the oppressed were unimportant. Instead they gave us heroes who defeated all who dared oppose them without glancing down at those crushed holding them up. 

They didn’t look at those who’d shriveled up and died in their shadows. Only those who’d survived the darkness were willing to say anything about it. But the so-called heroes were so unopposable that the survivors had one choice and one choice only: become a villain. 

And thus, I have become a villain. I have played my game, and either way, I will win. If I die, then you will immortalize my name along with the hero’s. If I survive and the hero does not, then the shadow will vanish. If we both die, well, you’re reading this journal, aren’t you? 

The words on the screen vanished, their places taken by two bloody people. One dressed in black, kneeling in the fist of the white-clothed. The black-clothed one listed names. Each one that fell from their lips was accompanied by an image flashing over the screen. 

The perso

n dressed in white raised their fist, a snarl painted across their face. The black let their head hang back, smiling. 

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the hero. Unmasked? Perhaps.” 

The hero dropped their hand, looking around wildly. Their fear-stricken features made the villain chuckle. The sound rolled ominously through the rafters, echoing around the hidden cameras. 

“There, hero. There and there and there. They’ve been watching everything.” 

The hero dropped the villain, staggering back. 

The villain slowly climbed to their feet, crimson smile wide for the world to see. Scars on full display. “They’ve seen today. They saw you kill my unarmed, innocent staff. They saw you walk by the children on the edge of the street who begged you for water. They saw you ignore the woman screaming for help in the alley. Why? Because prizes, glory, fame, wealth, a thousand other reasons. All of them PATHETIC.”

Finally, the villain let themself scream the words. “You call me a villain, but every day you ignore the people who need you. You label me a monster, but I’ve never seen a person as monstrous as YOU.”

The hero looked around, eyes darting from wall to wall. 

“Yes, they’ve seen it all.” The villain spread their arms wide, the pain rippling through them a glorious honor to be hung around their shoulders. “They’ve seen you, hero. Now shall I say your name?”

The hero’s fear-filled eyes narrowed. They gritted their teeth. Popping a shoulder back into the socket, they spread their feet wide and raised their hands. 

“That’s your choice?” The villain asked. Their voice fell to a reverent, hushed sadness. “You choose to fight me rather than show them who you are?”

“You’ve already shown them,” the hero grimaced. “No point hiding it now.”

The hero lunged. 

You see, ladies and gentlemen, anyone can be a villain. Anyone can be a hero. It’s a name we award to those who don’t deserve it. We mix up the roles. So whatever the world has labelled you, know what you stand for. Know what you cannot ignore. Know what must be brought to the light. I did. And where am I? 

I’m not sure that I know.

But it doesn’t matter. As long as you stop walking by. As long as you start looking around you, in the shadows. As long as you hear the cries for help. As long as you answer them. 

Then it doesn’t matter what I am.