Death of an innocent

She lived a life of addiction. She was older, often ignored and toothless. Going through life begging for change to get her new high, her mind long destroyed by drugs, abuse and who knows what else. She was quiet sweet and annoying, but she was innocent. A Victim of her addiction, she lived a life of no hope because for her there was no hope.

A few nights ago she was tied to a tree, beaten, sodomized, her eyes had been scratched out of her head, and she was left to die chained to a tree for all to see, as a warning to those on the street. 

There was no hope for her, no help. Either no one heard her screams or no one cared. I remember her, I didn’t particularly like her – I can own that. I can own that I didn’t do much to help her, I knew that she was going to die and for years I walked by ignoring her refusing to acknowledge her. She asked for nothing ever except money for drugs. She could barely speak.

She was not perfect, but she was a human being. Now like so many before she is nothing more than a statistic.

No one knows for sure if she is dead or laying in a coma, but the one true thing I can say about this woman is that at least now she is no longer suffering. If she makes it out she will be blind, and traumatized forever, but at least she will no longer be addicted. If she is dead, then I pray she is at peace. Either way her suffering at least physically is currently at an end.

There is something terrifying happening in the streets of my city. People have always lived here, raised their children here, done their drugs and their crime and died here, but something very scary is happening more so than ever.

There is a drug war going on and it is not silent any more. The dealers no longer care if their bag boys are busted, there are always more where the first batch came from.

The money is too good of a draw to convince people to stay clean and sober, to stay out of that world. Every single day for the last few years we have heard of beatings and murders, but this is not just murder any more. It is not enough to take a life any more, you must – if you are apart of that world – make an example of those you hunt.

You must humiliate, torture and make an example of your victims.

Tonight I sit here, thinking about that woman. I think about the number of times I got lucky, I never went into addiction that way. For me drugs and alcohol weren’t a problem, it was ignorance and escapism.

I thank the Goddess that I am free of that world – that I am not looking over my shoulder the way I used to. Make no mistake however, I still look over my shoulder.

I still check to see if a crazed criminal is coming my way, or if I am about to be caught in a cross fire. I worry about being home alone at night, I worry about whether or not I am going to be grabbed and raped like another woman a few weeks ago.

I worry about serial killers, rapers and beaters because now these are issues that we have to deal with in this city. I am angry because the Mayor is not addressing these issues, neither are the papers or the televised news.

I worry that we will have another pickton to worry about because people are not aware of what is going on or why it is going on.

I am angry that those with money are now trying to push homeless and addicts, single parent families out of this city so that they will turn into someone elses problem, instead of doing what they should in order to protect those that are here.

I am angry that I am seeing scared cops turning into angry cops. I am angry and for all my inspiring words about standing up for what you believe in, raising your voice when you see something wrong, no one is listening.

S

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