It’s for the family, he says.

All the lying about previous jobs.

All the cover ups about references.

It’s just a lie, he says.

Who gets hurt by this?

I’ll provide for my family.

I’ll do the job.

I’ll keep everything a secret.

I am told to say nothing of what I saw here today,

the atrocities committed at work.

All the enslaved members of the rusty cogs of employment,

treated like animal feces on a cracked stone floor.

How can I?

What if people are hurt?

What if they die?

But my family, he says.

I must provide for them.

I watch in pained silence,

as the first murder takes place.

I am forced to watch, as are all employees.

But we could stop this.

We could overpower them.

But we’d risk our livelihood.

Our money.

Our jobs.

What would my family eat?

The man becomes haunted,

distraught over what he sees.

He can no longer look his children in the eyes.

He can no longer comfort his wife as he once did.

He just wants them to be safe.

It’s for the family he says.

Eventually, the company targets his children.

He can choose to end it quickly himself,

or allow the company to take them.

But how can he choose?

Either way, they’ll die.

Or he’ll die. And there will be no one to protect them.

And then they’ll die.

He lines them up in the living room,

wife, son and daughter.

His breathing, haggard.

His eyes, watery.

He desperately tries to answer their questions,

he attempts to dissuade their concerns.

Deep down,

the cold pit of guilt wrenches his soul.

He pulls the trigger.

They fall to the ground.

“It’s-it’s for the family,” he says.

He looks in the mirror,

and malice stares back.

Despair consumes him.

Mourning twists him.

He can no longer bear the weight of his existence.

It was for the family, he says.

When does innocence turn red?

When does mercy become murder?

When does a man become a monster?