Sight of Hate

In the lush, green forest, as the light rain drizzled down, the members of La Haine gathered. They each brought with them an obscure item, and the items varied among the group. The group’s leader, Leah, was waiting for them by a large tree, and La Haine congregated in front of her. She stepped on top of a wooden box next to her that put her slightly above the La Haine and raised her hands to quiet the small mass.

“Are we missing anyone?” said Leah to La Haine. The group looked amongst themselves in silence for a moment, then Leah said, “I will take that as a no, so let us begin. I will go first.”

Leah dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a toy car. “This toy car was given to a man by his father when the man was but a boy,” said Leah. “If it were only that, it would hold no significance, but the boy’s father had a car exactly like the one modeled in this toy. To add more significance, the father would do repairs on the car himself – the boy would help.”

La Haine mumbled amongst themselves with intrigue, and Leah went on to say, “If that were it, it’d be more than enough, but there is more. This toy was given to the boy on his eleventh birthday, and the day after that, the boy watched his father get into the real car and drive away, and the father was never to be seen by the boy again. And now this toy has been removed from the man, never to be seen by the man again.”

La Haine gave an applause with a perfunctory rhythm. Leah put up a hand to silence La Haine and asked, “Who would like to go next?” A man with a mustache, glasses, and a middled-aged gut raised his hand, and Leah said, “Ah, Wally. I was hoping you’d volunteer. Please, come up.”

Wally slid his way through La Haine until he made it to the front, where Leah stood atop her box. She pointed, directing Wally’s sight to a second wooden box. He brought it over next to Leah and stepped on top of it.

“Hello,” said Wally to La Haine. “I’m Wally.”

“We know!” shouted someone from La Haine.

“Yeah, right you are, Bob,” said Wally, looking down at his feet. Remembering he was up there for a reason, Wally removed from his pants pocket a key. He held it out, displaying it to La Haine, and said, “I stole this key from a woman. She found the key while cleaning out her dresser drawer, and now it’s here, so she won’t be finding it again.”

La Haine was silent while Wally continued to say nothing more. Leah decided this had gone on long enough and asked, “Wally, what is the significance?”

“It’s a key,” said Wally. “All keys open something someone wanted to keep, so all keys have significance.”

“No, Wally,” said Leah. “Your item is insignificant, and you have wasted our time once again.”

“But the woman…” said Wally. “One day, she’s going to come across the lock that goes to this key, and she won’t have the key. She’ll be devastated.”

“How long will that be?” asked Leah. “A year? Ten years? If she can wait that long, there’s no significance. The man I removed the toy car from is missing it as we speak. He is feeling how empty his life is since he gave so much significance to something so insignificant. You would have been better off removing a sock from the woman’s life; at least that would be something she would go looking for before the end of the week.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wally to Leah, and she smacked the key out of his hand, almost knocking Wally off of his box.

“Don’t apologize to me,” replied Leah. She pointed to La Haine and said, “Apologize to them.”

To La Haine, Wally said meekly, “I’m sorry.”

“Your sorries aren’t good enough anymore, Wally,” said Leah. “This is the third time you’ve disappointed us, and we must live by the way of La Haine.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Wally. “I’m still fuzzy on all the rules.”

Leah removed a knife from a sheath she kept on her belt and held it out to Wally. It was a beautiful knife, with intricate designs on the blade, and a handle made of wood and ivory. Wally looked from the knife to Leah and back to the knife again. “Oh, that rule,” he said.

“Take the knife, Wally,” said Leah.

“I’ll admit… since I joined, I’ve made more mistakes than most,” said Wally. “So, as much as it saddens me, I’m willing to leave La Haine. I’ll leave and never come back.”

“That is your choice, Wally,” said Leah. “We don’t desire to force anyone here who isn’t fully committed to our mission. If you no longer wish to show the world how empty their lives are, you are free to go. Once you’ve performed the exit ritual, of course.”

“Thank you for understanding,” said Wally. “I’d be happy to perform the exit ritual, and I promise I won’t speak of La Haine to anyone.”

“If you are ready,” said Leah, “then take the knife.”

Wally took the knife from Leah’s outstretched hand and asked, “What do I do now?”

“Both eyes,” replied Leah.

“What?” said Wally. “I said I was leaving.”

“Yes,” said Leah, “and that will cost you both of your eyes. That is the way of La Haine.”

“I thought that was the rule for three failures,” said Wally.

“No,” said Leah. “Three failures is only one eye.”

“Oh, damn it,” said Wally. “Damn it, I hate these rules.”

“Go on, Wally,” said Leah. “If you do it yourself, you do it with honor, and we can trust that you won’t speak of what you’ve seen us do. If La Haine must perform the exit ritual for you, we can’t trust what your tongue will do once it’s out in the world. Therefore, we’ll be forced to keep it here with us.”

Wally swallowed and stared at the knife in his hand. The only sound was the light rain as it continued to drizzle down. Despite the gloomy circumstances, Wally had a bright idea. He swung the knife at Leah, slashing her cheek and knocking her off of her box and onto the ground. Wally, knife still in hand, ran off into the depths of the forest.

“Get him! Get him!” screamed Leah, and La Haine swarmed after Wally. The forest was vast, and a man running for his life gains an extra dose of energy, but after an hour, a few members of La Haine were dragging Wally up to Leah, who had a bandage on her cheek from where Wally slashed it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said Wally, which sounded more like a plea. “I didn’t think the knife was going to get that close. I didn’t mean to cut up your face.”

“Give me the knife,” said Leah.

“I’m sorry. I truly am,” replied Wally.

Leah looked to the members of La Haine who were holding Wally and said, “Search him.” The members of La Haine did as they were told.

“He has nothing on him,” said one of La Haine who searched Wally. Leah grabbed Wally and searched him herself.

“Where is it!” she screeched.

“Where’s what?” asked Wally.

“The knife. Where is it?” said Leah.

“I don’t know,” said Wally. “I dropped it while I was running.”

Leah turned to La Haine and said, “Go out there and find the knife. Go now.”

A member of La Haine pulled a knife from his pocket. Holding it in his hand out to Leah, he said, “Here. We can use mine to continue the exit ritual.”

Leah smacked the knife out of that hand and said, “No! The knife Wally stole was the knife of La Haine. No other knife is to be used. Now go out and find it.”

La Haine searched and searched the forest for the missing knife, and no one searched harder than Leah herself. After five hours of combing through the forest, the sun was beginning to set, so Bob went to find Leah. He found her on her hands and knees, groping blindly through mud, and said, “I think we should head back now. It’s no use; we’re never going to find that thing. I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. There are plenty of knives in the group. Why do we need that one?”

“It is the knife of La Haine,” said Leah, still looking at the mud, hoping that the knife would appear in front of her. With hands and knees still in the cold mud, she looked up at Bob and said, “We can’t lose it. My father gave me that knife.”