This Thing A Quiet Madness Made

Chapter 51

"I spent a lot of time thinking about what I would say to you all tonight. I have a lot to say, really, but as I wrote this, I found it difficult to articulate my feelings. I know there are many people from many walks of life listening now, and I wondered how I could connect to all of you in some meaningful way. To be quite honest, I'm not sure I can offer you much of value, but I'd still like to try.

"Last winter, I came across a girl during a raid. She was the victim of a trafficking operation we had been following. When I found her, she was scraped up, bruises all over, she must have been freezing, just like the half-dozen other boys and girls we recovered from that place. A man was with her- one of the traffickers- unconscious on the ground. She was sitting behind him, holding a shard of glass to his throat. I had encountered situations like this before, unfortunately, where a victim lashes out in a bout of rage and fear, so I called out to her. I told her she was safe now, that these people couldn't hurt her anymore, that we had rescued the others and we were here for her too. I asked her to come with me, I told her we would bring her somewhere safe, somewhere warm, that we would bring her back home, but she didn't move.

"When she spoke, her hand trembled. She asked me, 'Do you know what they did? Do you know what it was like?' I said I did; I said I knew what she had gone through, and it wasn't her fault. I told her I understood she was angry, that she had every right to be, but now these people would never be able to do those terrible things to anyone again. I asked her to come with me, to not let these people cause her any more suffering, but again, she didn't. No matter how I begged and pleaded, I couldn't reach her. She said to me, 'Wherever I go, I can see it every time I close my eyes. I hate it, I hate it. I can't live like this.' I couldn't save her that day. She took the life of her captor, then her own.

"I've found that many people expect me to have some kind of profound understanding, some unique and valuable sort of wisdom they seek, something that should be shared to better enlighten the common folk. The truth is, I myself am common. That girl suffered a very different kind of horror than I did, and I can't say I'll ever really know what it was like for her, but I think I understand something of what she felt. Let me make this clear: there is no glory in what she did. Lives have value, no matter how damaged or broken or how untrue it may seem, and I wish I could have found the words to make her understand that. This is what I regret most, the lives I couldn't save. It's difficult to see when you're in the middle of the storm, when it feels like the pain will never end, it's difficult to see clearly. It's difficult to imagine there could ever be anything beyond the rain and clouds, that you could possibly exist in a way that doesn't hurt, but you must believe me when I say you can.

"I never imagined myself as a hero. My life, for the greater part of it, has been a spectacular amalgamation of exhibits forming what many in this industry would, and still do, consider a lost cause. Mine may be an extreme case, but there are all too many stories like it: people who become trapped by circumstances they never asked for, living in ways they never asked to. I'm not saying this in hopes of somehow lessening or justifying the reality of my past actions, but I do want those who have never suffered that way to understand how common these things are. They're happening in your city, in your neighborhood, right now and yesterday and tomorrow. They won't go away just because we don't want to see them. We need to stop the ones behind these horrors, we need to address the faults in our hero society that allowed them to happen in the first place, but what all too many people seem to forget is that we must not cast aside the victims they leave behind. It is our responsibility to protect our own, especially those who are vulnerable, but we cannot simply give up on these victims because they remind us of our own failure.

"I understand my presence here carries some bit of controversy. Many of you were around five years ago; you saw me at the lowest point in my life, and perhaps many of you still see me as that person now. I'm under no delusion that all has been forgiven, and I know my actions, now and in the future, whatever they may be, will never make up for the suffering I caused in the past. I know these feelings are complicated for many of you, and I understand your concern. I also understand that I speak from a place of privilege. I have been very fortunate these past few years to receive the kind of support most people will never have, to enjoy the kind of success most people do not. This particular mess of circumstance has left me in a unique position: many fellow heroes criticize me for my past, for daring to call myself a hero after committing such atrocities, and many fellow victims criticize me for my present, for siding with the system that ultimately failed to save so many of them. Feet in two worlds, fit in neither. But the truth is, I'm both, and no detraction will ever be able to change the truth. Whether or not it's ultimately right for me to be speaking in front of you all today, I won't pass up the opportunity this stage has given me. I haven't forgotten what it was like back then, but I won't let my resentment stop me from doing what I know is good now, else the suffering will never stop. Perhaps my words tonight aren't as much for the people inside this room as they are for the ones outside, but wherever you are, I hope you'll listen anyway.

"To those who carry some heavy burden, to those who are ashamed of their past, I wish I could say everything is perfect now. I wish I could say time heals all wounds, that five years is all it takes to undo the harm, but that wouldn't be true. Some kinds of suffering never go away, some wounds never fully heal, but that doesn't mean they have the right to determine our lives. I don't know the right words to say, I don't know how to save everyone, I don't know how to make the pain stop, but I can assure you, it does get better. To those in the present and the future, to those in places far away, to those who are hurt and suffering and scrambling for something to hold onto, to anyone who can hear me: the darkness won't last forever.

"Disaster, pain, misfortune: these are the tragedies of our lives, but they are not our lives. They wish to capture you, to bind you, to imprison you so that you might keep them company in their ever-eternity, but you must not let them. You are alive, you are healing, and tragedies burn at the sight of hope.

"My world, once full of pain and darkness, you changed it. That's why I'm going to stay with you like this, hoping that one day, I can change your world too.

"To anyone who can hear me, I hope you will take care of yourself, I hope you will feel deeply, and I hope you will live well.

"Let's meet again when we're both happy.

"Thank you."