My sister, the one who hates horror movies but absorbs news stories of human atrocity with ease, told me the story of Shaniya Davis, the 5-year-old North Carolina girl sold last week by her own mother, to be used as a sex object and murdered. It's the kind of story that seeps under my skin and even after a six hours of warm, loving family joy, emerges in the dark and keeps me aching.
Who could do that to their little girl? Who could look at a child--any child, let alone your own flesh--and wish torture and pain upon them? And what kind of man would take delight in it?
I try to think benevolent thoughts and turn no hatred onto anyone, try to remind myself that the people who torture are in themselves tortured and as such not rational or even entirely human. I try.
But the larger part of me just wants to crush them under foot like a cluster of cockroaches.