Cowardice
Yesterday morning around 9:00 am I was at home, getting ready for the day. Over a period of time - 10 seconds? A minute? 2 minutes? I became aware of a disturbing, muted screaming sound. Not sure if it was a baby, a cat, or older person, I waited, semi-curious. Starting to think it sounded more human, I felt nervous and finally got up off the couch.
"What if someone really DOES need help?" "Well it's broad daylight, someone else will do something." "What if everyone else is at work? And what if it were you who needed help?"
By that point I was at the window, looking out in the courtyard. During this time, the yelling had become much more audible and I had heard the words, "Let me go! Just let me go!" I looked down and saw a woman on the patio outside one of the ground-floor apartments, crouching down and holding her head and her hair, crying and screaming at a man in the doorway. The man closed the door and disappeared.
The woman stayed on the ground, crying and rocking. I saw someone in the window of an apartment on another floor turn away and leave - they had been watching, too. It was clear that the woman was not in captivity, and was not being attacked (anymore). So it was over.
I thought about letting the office know. But what could they do? Then I thought that maybe the best thing would be to go down and talk to the woman, ask if she was okay, and ask if there was anything she needed or anything I could do for her. Then I decided that that was what I definitely should do. That was what I would do.
Except I didn't. Because I would have had to leave my apartment.
Walk downstairs. Initiate. Enter into a difficult situation. Interact. Care. Love.
And apparently that was just too much.
"What if someone really DOES need help?" "Well it's broad daylight, someone else will do something." "What if everyone else is at work? And what if it were you who needed help?"
By that point I was at the window, looking out in the courtyard. During this time, the yelling had become much more audible and I had heard the words, "Let me go! Just let me go!" I looked down and saw a woman on the patio outside one of the ground-floor apartments, crouching down and holding her head and her hair, crying and screaming at a man in the doorway. The man closed the door and disappeared.
The woman stayed on the ground, crying and rocking. I saw someone in the window of an apartment on another floor turn away and leave - they had been watching, too. It was clear that the woman was not in captivity, and was not being attacked (anymore). So it was over.
I thought about letting the office know. But what could they do? Then I thought that maybe the best thing would be to go down and talk to the woman, ask if she was okay, and ask if there was anything she needed or anything I could do for her. Then I decided that that was what I definitely should do. That was what I would do.
Except I didn't. Because I would have had to leave my apartment.
Walk downstairs. Initiate. Enter into a difficult situation. Interact. Care. Love.
And apparently that was just too much.
Comments
Then you should have called me to punch that man in the solar plexus as soon as you and the man's girlfriend were safely hidden away.
Thanks for sharing...