You Don’t Wanna Kill Me, Empathy Story

Look me in the eye and tell me if I really have to die. You know you don’t want to kill me. You could use your work as a hangman to write a story about the empathy you feel in those moments. When you read it in a few years, you will surely be surprised. I imagine you will know what empathy is, yes, of course. Try to put yourself in my shoes and try to imagine how someone who is about to die might feel.

Come on, dig inside, think that I could be your brother, that you could be me. Answer, what justifies my death? You point the barrel of a rifle at me that isn’t even yours. You were told to kill me and you don’t even hesitate to do it. At least that’s what it seems. But I know these doubts. You don’t wanna kill me, you don’t wanna end my life.

We might be different, but you know that’s not reason enough to execute me. My body will eventually end up on the floor with a trail of blood and you will go to dinner with your family. You will know that you killed an innocent man and yet you will still have an appetite. But I know that deep inside you will suffer.

In your story on empathy, you can talk about Robert Vischer. Do you know him It was a 19th century German philosopher who first used the concept of empathy. Although the German word he was using was translated as “to feel inside”. Interesting, isn’t it?

I do not have a choice

I have no choice but you do. You can let me go and no one will know. I will go far with my family, beyond these borders. But tell me, what do you get with my death? What do you do to shoot me in the head? Nothing, you don’t win anything, maybe you think you are a good soldier, but in the end the one who will kill me will be you.

I want to believe that if you were ordered to throw yourself into hell, you would obey the order. I try to imagine that your judgment can guide your actions. That there is a possibility, more or less distant, that you follow this opinion which you reached by yourself.

Who is your superior? What did he tell you about me? What do you know about my life I’ll give you some information for when you write your empathy story. Do you know that I have a five year old daughter and a three year old son? They are magnificent. My daughter, Louise, always climbs into my bed in the morning and wakes me up pulling my hair. She tells me that daddy sleeps a lot. My son, Marco, laughs a lot with his sister. And now you’re going to leave them without a father. I will never see them again.

Tell me, please, do you really think they deserve it? A father you don’t know. A father who is told to get out of the way because he has his own ideals, his own political ideology. You are one of mine, maybe not politically, but in that yes, in the human that is in you. I see it in your eyes. You were told not to speak so as not to get attached to me, my eyes can’t help communicating: they haven’t left you completely blind. Your tense face shows that you obey only to survive.

Behind the tree

Why are we hiding? Why are you putting me behind a tree? Are you ashamed of what you’re gonna do? Don’t hide my death. Don’t hide your murder. You were told to kill me, that’s how the country works now. Do it where they can see us, I want them to see how you end my life. Let them see your face when you shoot, let me watch them when my heart isn’t beating anymore. Don’t hide what you’re going to do. No do not do that. Don’t hide orders.

I know you are listening to me. Of course you are listening to me. In your future story on empathy, I know you will write that you listened to us all. It’s inevitable. You pretend to be brave in front of your superiors, but you’re scared to death. The only thing that comforts you is that the idea did not come from you.

You think you are only obeying an order, that your responsibility for this action is minimal. I would like you to answer me and tell me if you are really so devastated, if you really believe that because it is not your idea, you are not responsible? If you were ordered to kill your son, would you? You would kill him yourself, not those who ordered you to.

When you write your story about empathy, make sure you pull the trigger. And that you might not do it because no one else will see it. Just you and me. You have options. You are part of a system that makes you believe that people like me have to die. But you don’t believe it, do you? I know very well not. I’m sure you are a good family man. Kiss your children tonight when you get home. Do what I can’t do.

No hard feelings

Night is about to fall and you make me lean against the tree. The sun is setting, seeking the horizon. I could run away, but I know that would end my chances of survival. Ultimately, we end up accepting our fate. The question is whether this was really my fate. How many have you killed before me? Were they all poets?

You know, I don’t blame you, I don’t hold a grudge against you. Maybe in your place, I would do the same, or maybe not. Don’t think I’m mad at you. Now I am not mad. I only want peace. My children, my wife, my parents… I hope they are doing well. I will miss them. Can you at least tell them that I thought of them before I left? I hope that one day you will write your story about empathy in which you will let see what you may have felt, but which you are not allowed to express.

I believe the time has come. You load the gun and point it at me. It is still time. I’m still alive. You don’t want to kill me, you know that. Will you really be able to sleep tonight knowing that you killed an innocent man? And will you be able to watch your children feel proud of what you have done? You know you don’t want to kill me. You could have done it already, but you didn’t …

Our thoughts

Irena Sendler was a remarkable woman who managed to save thousands of Jewish children from the Warsaw ghetto. Here is part of his story …