Insane hatred

Robert Garcia opened his eyes, feeling strangely immobilized. He could not move his legs and he didn't know where he was. He just could feel he was lying on a bed. Making an effort, he made a sound that was weak, but audible, because someone approached him. He heard heavy steps on the floor. The person was a young woman, who asked him if he was well. He spoke:

-I don't know. I'm confused. Where am I?

-You're at a hospital.

-I don't feel my legs.

-I'll call the doctor.

-Please, give me some water.

-Of course.

The confused boy tried to think about his situation. Why was hhe at a hospital? He remembered he was getting out the little hospital in which he worked, planning to meet his girlfriend, when a man went close to him. The man was tall and strong, white and had a bald head. He got scared, because he perceived the man was a skinhhead and was also looking at him with a scary face.

Robert pretended a calmness that he didn't feel and walked to the other side of the street, but the man followed him. Then, forcing himself not to tremble his voice, Robert spoke to him:

-Is there anything wrong? I don't know you. Please, leave me alone because I don't want problems.

-Don't you want problems, cucaracha?

-No, I don't. I just want to live in peace, without disturbing anybody. If I don't disturb you, why do you follow me?

-Because you are a cucaracha, immigrant. You are to be terminated.

So, the man gave him a punch and he didn't remember anything else.

"I must have fainted. That's why I'm here."

His thoughts were interrupted by a man in white who got into the room and apprached the bed.

-I see you woke up.

-Doctor, I remember. A skinhead gave me a punch.

-Yes, he gave you a punch and you fainted. Then, he knocked your back and hit your head until someone saw and called the police. He was arrested and you were brought here.

-Oh, dear.

-You stayed twenty days in coma. How do you feel?

-I don't feel my legs, doctor.

-This is something we need to talk about, guy.

-Doctor, tell me what happened to my legs, please.

-It's early to know, boy.

Many feelings invaded Robert's mind: hatred, anger and sorrow. A stupid skinhead had let him with his legs useless. And why? Just because he was a son of Mexican immigrants. He wanted the man who had assaulted him to suffer a lot and spent all his life in prison.

-No, doctor, I have to know. I won't be able to walk anymore. I hate that monster who destroyed my life . I wanted to make him so unhappy as I am now.

-Calm, Robert. You are nervous and need to rest.

Robert's mother and brother went to visit him at hospital. He told his brother:

-I want to face the monster who attacked me. My legs are useless because of him.

-Robert, the doctor said that you need to make phisiotherapy. Science makes progress everyday. You must be hopeful.

-I want to visit that motherfucker at jail when I leave hospital.

Though his brother's protests, Robert didn't give up. So, when he left hospital, he went to Penitentiary at a wheelchair. The skinhead got surprised.

-Hello, your nasty and coward skinhead. Look at what you did.

The man kept his silence.

-You almost killed me, motherfucker. My life is over and the fault is yours. I can't understand why you attacked me. I work hard, try to get my wages honestly and help to maintain my house and a son of bitch like you makes this without reason.

-You are dirty. Latin, Negroes and Jews are dirt.

-I hope you die here.

-Robert, let's go. asked his brother.

Two years passes.The skinhead had been sentenced and Robert had opened with his brother with a little Mexican restaurant. Robert took care of money and his brother and sister-in-law served the food to the clients. Robert's mother had died and he was living alone.Hhe was still full of hatred and thought the skinhead would never pay his crime.

Robert was going to close the restaurant. His brother and sister-in-law had gotten out and he was finishing to calculate when a man entered the restaurant.

-Are you Robert Garcia?

-Yes, I am.

The man seemed to be nervous and Robert moved his wheelchair to approach the man.

-Can I help you, sir?

-I'm the Reverend Jackson.

-Jackson? The monster who made my legs useless is called Thomas Jackson.

-He's my son.

-What?

-I saw you at television and newspapers. I felt so ashamed that I didn't want to go to the judgement. How could Thomas...

-He destroyed my life, sir.

-I beg you pardon. I know what he did and I feel guilt because nothing I tried to teach him was useful to prevent him of doing such a horrible thing.

-Because of your son, I'm in this wheelchair, my girlfriend left me, I have panic and nightmares with skinheads everynight.

-If you knew how I'm sorry.

-I don't blame you, sir, but, look at my situation. I've fought against prejudice since my childhood. do you know how is to feel that people hate you just because you aren't like them? I've done everything right and, you can see the reward. A strange attacks me without reason. He not only got me handicapped. He humiliated me, attacked my race, my people, my family, my dignity.Don't I have the right of living in America and be respected? I'm not trash, sir.

-I know how is to feel that you couldn't conduct your son across the right way, my boy. I tried to light his eyes, but he chose insane hatred and darkness. Now, look at what this did: damaged you and him.

-Your damn son can walk. He can feel his legs. I can't play soccer anymore. I hate your son, sir. I want he spends his life in prison, thinking about the monster he is. I wish he felt the pain he made me feel.

-I see you still feel the pain.

-I don't want your pity, sir. Please, go away.

-I'm so sorry.

-Nothing can change what happened. Go away.

Suddenly, Robert covered his face with his hands, sobbing deeply.

-Leave me alone, sir.

The man put a hand on his shoulder.

-My son, look at what this insane hatred did. Will you feed the hatred inside you? It won't do you any good. My son can walk, but he isn't free. He can't go where he wants. You can. I would give everything to change this, but it is impossible. Please, forgive me the evil my son did.

He gave Robert a card and left the restaurant.

For a long time, Robert stood quiet, remembering pensatively the man's words. Would he feed that bitter feeling that was growing inside him? Where would hatred take him? He began to read the card. It was written:

"Jesus did not fought against hatred using hatred, but only love. We won't win hatred if we hate, because hatred is evil. We will win if we use love and goodness."

Robert put the card inside the pocket. So, he got out and closed the restaurant.