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In The Eyes of Evil
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way I wasn’t supposed to get caught. I feel so miserable now and it is all my fault. Why couldn’t I see the evil in him? I misjudged him, I misjudged myself, and I misjudged how much I love the people around me. Now I hold possibly one of the greatest burdens a man can hold.
My name is Major Malik Nadal Hasan. When I was young I was taunted and tortured by children all around the community. The nice perfect little Christian boys weren’t so nice to me. I have a hunch that if half their parents knew how I was treated they wouldn’t even do anything about it. My childhood was tough and I’ve learned to ignore all their racist remarks, but there will always be scars, layer after layer of deep painful scars. Something I will have to live with and those people won’t.
When I heard about the 9/11 bombing I was mortified and embarrassed. How could this happen, how could my people have caused all this harm? I was mostly terrified I remembered when Pearl Harbor was bombed and how the Japanese were treated and I knew there was a bumpy road ahead.
Immediately afterwards I decided to join the army. If I joined the army people won’t question my patriotism. I was great. I worked so hard and I climbed the ranks fast. Then some of the troops started getting sent to Iraq and when they came back they were never the same. I was scared to go. I’m not going to lie. I was terrified, but if I was requested I would fight with all of my loyalty. That day never came and at the time I was internally grateful, but now I wonder if things would have turned out different if I had gone. Sure things would have been bad but never this bad.
I decided I would become a psychiatrist after seeing how scarred people were by their memories of war. At first things were going great, but then my childhood came back to haunt me. Some would get appointments just to bad-talk my people in front of me or they would come in and see them that I am from the Middle East and would go on about how I should go back to my country. I was trying to help these people, but they were just trying to hurt me. How was I supposed to ignore someone I was required to listen to. I had signed on for five years and I had no choice but to complete them. I just took the abuse but I soon sought advice. I posted a comment on a website created for people under the strains of racism. I asked someone what they would do, and the response came with more than I was ready for.
A guy by the name of Al-alwalki responded to my comment. He said that he had been tormented so badly that he left the United States. I was amazed! I didn’t like being tormented for my race but I would never leave my home. He gave me his email address and we started emailing regularly. My life was beginning to get on track. I got through work every day remembering this was only part of my day and the rest was for me. I was taken off guard when I got the offer to speak at a big seminar in Washington D.C. People had noticed how I handled things at work and respected me more than I could imagine. I was so excited and overjoyed and I couldn’t wait to tell Al-alwalki. His response kind of hurt me but I knew that it was just his scars that were speaking. He told me to completely go off topic on medicine and talk about muslims and how they’re just regular people. He even told me things that I should say and I knew that his issues were greater than skin deep but I thought I could handle him. After all it was my job, and he hadn’t been persuaded me so far.
The day I was going to give my speech was finally here and I was definitely ready. I had practiced for hours and I knew this would put me in high rankings with many psychiatrists around the country. The day had started out great and lots of people were talking to me. It was my day but then some guy comes up to me and he pours his soda down my suit and tells me that 9/11 was my fault, and that I should be dead, not giving a speech. How could he this was my day and I couldn’t help but be angry I was fuming, it just wasn’t fair! I then had to get a knew suit and was five minutes late for my speech but as I stepped on the podium and started speaking I was shocked myself when I rambled on about the Muslims, exactly how al-Alwalki wanted me to do and worst of all I finished off the speech with “We love death more then life?”. How could I? The audience looked stunned and I was so embarrassed it took me all my restraint not to run off stage and I quickly got a cab back to my hotel.
After the trip it was hard to go back to work but I managed it and somehow the taunting was the same as always it was as if nothing had changed and I was sort of relieved, so I just let everything go back to normal. Soon al-Alwalki started telling me about secret plots to bomb the middle east kept at my base he went on to give me detailed plans on getting the files I tried to ignore them but could help to read them.
One day I was more stressed out then usual I hadn’t got enough sleep and things weren’t going my way. I was just about to head home when I noticed some guys not from the base heading into a room with many files and this is when I did the stupidest thing of my life. I followed the guys in and hid behind some file cabinets until they left when all was clear I started searching through the files an almost flawless plan except for the guard who was sent to this room.
When he walked in I panicked as he shouted my name I grabbed a couple guns that were nearby and started shooting. I didn’t know what was wrong with me my instincts had kicked in and I was doing everything al-Alwalki had told me. Everything was a blur and I suddenly felt a sharp stinging pain, then I fell over. That is all the rest I remember until getting woken up in a hospital and being told how awful I was and my punishments. I then also found out that al-Alwalki had declared me a hero. I was disgusted I had become a pawn for a terrorist organization. How could I? My life wasn’t perfect but it was going pretty good and now it is ruined. I hate myself I wish I was never born. Now I shall rot in jail for life.
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