The Victim

Chapter Two: Friends


I write the comment quickly and post it anonymously to one of our social media profiles: “Hi. Just saw the 2 guys that beat 2 of our members sum weeks ago, they walked into an appartment block together. theyre address on the link.” The link points to an application where you can see the location on a map.

We also comment on their social media profiles exposing them. Others soon discover who they are and spread the message. Within the hour, several thousand people knows who they are. Only two hours later, we park near their apartment, and see people starting to flock over there.

“I don’t feel ok with this,” starts my arab friend, uneasy. “Oh, don’t worry, police will be here any minute and they both will be arrested.” Concerned citizens are quickly piling up in front of the apartment. Cries of “Racists! Bigots! Come out cowards!” start to spread. The two are in their apartment, and one of them comes outside.

“What the f-word are y’all doing here?” yells one of the bullies threateningly. He is booed by the crowd. “Shame!” yells a concerned citizen. “Shame! Shame!” begins chanting the flock of concerned citizen. “Get off my property, I’m calling the police!” he threatens. But they continue to chant. Someone throws a rock at him.

“Ok, what is going on?” says my arab friend. “Stop it,” he says putting his hand on the door, but my girlfriend’s brother is sitting on the driver seat and he locks the van’s doors. My arab friend looks at me looking for answers. “They deserve it,” says my girlfriend. “Hey, stop, ok, I’m sorry,” says the bully, trying to walk back, but he’s quickly surrounded.

I begin recording the scene. The chanting grows louder and they begin throwing stuff at him. Rotten tomatoes, garbage… anything they can find. Then a small group surrounds him and starts beating him. “You’re not so tough now, huh?” a woman screams at him. It’s mesmerizing, like watching ants devour a pigeon. The brother rushes out of the house. “Get the f-word away from my brother!” he says waving a pistol. “What the f-word have you done to him!” he screams in distress.

“F-word, f-word, f-word,” says my arab friend. “They’re going to shoot people! Oh what the f-word have you done!” The bully fires a few rounds into the flock, which quickly disperses fleeing from him. He chases down some of them and shoots them down. Everyone inside the van ducks so they won’t see us. I keep filming. “Holy s-word, do you think he saw us?” asks my roommate. “Look! He’s coming! Stay down, stay down!”

The sound of sirens is a relief. We’re saved. It gets closer and closer. We hear him running toward the entrance of his apartment block. I look up again and see him kneeling over his brother, who is struggling for his life. “What are you doing, get down,” whispers frantically my roommate’s brother, but I barely pay him any attention as I keep filming.

The scene is very touching. One brother holding another in his arms. Despite what they’ve done, I feel… Police cars suddenly flood the neighborhood, and men with guns quickly surround the two brothers. The one still conscious holds a pistol while he rocks his dying brother and weeps. “Police, freeze!” shouts one of the officers.

The bully that is still conscious raises the arm with the pistol, like he’s about to shoot. The police shoot them both down until they stop moving and a red river flows down into the street.