Observer
Today she killed the roach. Coldly, unfeelingly, unthinkingly- no contorted face, no scream, just a cold precise aiming of the killer chemical and watching of the insect writhe, and later sweeping it up, like it was just a piece of trash lying around. This had to be the culmination. Of course it did. I have seen her cower and scream and pray when she chanced up on one of them in the night, I have seen her plead with others, all fast asleep, to please come and take care of it, I have seen her flee to safer havens when her pleas fell on ears that were fast asleep, comfortable in their ignorance. I have heard the others discuss her helplessness, her shrieks, her running and cowering. I have heard their snickers and sometimes their pitying. Sometimes though, I have even seen empathy- someone quietly killing the roach as she flees. Mostly I have seen the reproach, the well meaning advice for her to stay out of trouble, or reprimands to keep the kitchen clean so the roaches don't ...