The Power of Testimony

SAVING MY ASSASSIN
He stifled a sob. “Then came another explosion, and I found
myself flying in the air. I landed hard on my back. Oh! It
hurt so badly. Nevertheless, I felt free and alive. I could see
and feel again. I looked around, but no one else was there
with me.” He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders
began to shake with the memory of watching his friends die.
That night I saw something sensitive and special in his
soul. He had always been the calmer of the two. Perhaps his
time on the battlefield had taught him to cope with stress and
disappointment better than most.
Elena, on the other hand, was very moody and quick to
anger, and she easily found fault with others. According to
her, something was wrong all the time. During every New
Year’s party, while everybody else was happily celebrating, she
cried for the lost year. Sometimes it seemed as though she
cried constantly. The only time I did not see her crying was
during the birthday parties she planned for Alina, Oana, and
George. She would cook special meals, decorate the house,
buy gifts, and invite all the children from the neighborhood
to celebrate—for Alina, Oana, and George. Not once in
eighteen years did she ever have a party or bake a cake for
my birthday. She said that by January second, everybody was
too tired from the holidays to celebrate anything else—least
of all me. I always felt guilty for being born on that day. Most
days, I felt guilty for being born at all.
One afternoon as I was washing the dishes, Elena called
out, “Everyone come to the dining room.” Alina, Oana, and
George all came running from their rooms. I kept working.
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