I saw someone getting stabbed on the D train one time. I told no one. This is of course a lie but what if it was true. I would spend days or maybe months imprisoned by keeping my silence. I would contemplate whether it is my job as a New York City citizen to report it to the police or whether to pretend its nothing out of the ordinary like a proper New Yorker. An imaginary angel on my shoulder, whispering into my ear “confess the truth”, would torture me as much as the devil on the other shoulder with its pitchfork pricking in my ear “leave it be.” I would see myself outside my body and in the situation of the person getting stabbed. Having someone penetrating his knife into my gut is too gruesome. I'd avoid this image at all cost. I would think of someone else perhaps my mom as the victim. Now would I want someone to attest to her murder? I would. But no matter how much it hurts to think of this, I wouldn’t do anything, despite this hurting more.
-Katherine J
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