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merciless pulling off of spiders' legs, the exploitation of another's vulnerability, the torture and killing of helpless animals, birds, fish; every single boy has abused the power that he somehow discovered he possesses - every one of them. Are you saying you're an exception to that? Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you've never done any of those things?"
    "Well... I haven't," I said, obviously lying.
    "You're obviously lying."
    Damn him. My eyes sunk slow and heavy to the floor, and I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, my gestures verifying every ounce of his accusation.
    "I really expected more honesty from you. I can only hope that the seconds we've wasted on falsehoods will stop here - that you will join me with some sincerity, as I have chosen to do with you."
    He was right. He was so right about everything. It was almost as if the lizard were right in front of me, as if it were that day in the forest, and I was a boy again, crouching down beside it, watching it squirm with pain, listening to our laughter. This was the line we crossed. Of all the other animals in the world that had the capacity to do what we did, we were the only ones that actually followed through with it, and then convinced ourselves that it was okay. I felt repulsive, stupid.
    But wait. What was Harek staring down at me for? He said that every boy did the same thing, and that there were no exceptions. So what right did he have to stand over me and make me feel so vile, so guilty, when he must have done something similar?
    "Okay, so I did do some of that as a boy. What did you do?" I pressed, still looking at the floor, hoping this was a question I was allowed to ask.
    And it was, because he answered me, lowering his voice, ashamed. "We used to find birds' nests and toss them on the beach, and then sit to watch the fledglings get picked apart by scavengers."
    "See," I said, looking up, "you did it, too." I don't really know what I meant to say with that. Maybe I just wanted to put us both in the same position; to have him sitting beside me in a way, shrunken on the bench as well, feeling as defeated, as disgraceful as I was.
    "Yes, of course I did such things. As I said, every one of us has - but that is clearly no excuse. Just because billions of us have done it, doesn't make it right, it only perfectly illustrates that we are innately wrong. Evil isn't something that is inside of us, Joshua - it
is
us. It's not the result of an individual, or a culture, or an epoch; it wasn't the Barbarians, or the Visigoths, the Vandals, Mongols, Moors, Chinese, the Crusaders, the Inquisition, the KGB, the Nazis..."
    "Harek," I interrupted, again, "I've never heard of any of those people." His green eyes flared like fire.
    "Because their names don't matter! Because it wasn't 'them', it was us! Can't you see that? We all have the same genetic makeup, the same inclinations, the same fear, the same malevolence! It is a product of our blood. This blood!" Harek, who was already standing too close, stepped closer, and held his forearm in front of my face to squeeze it, his thumb pressing along the blue vein under his skin. "This very blood running through my body! Through your body!"
    He'd become incensed, unpredictable, and he realized, as I was pushing my back against the wall in an attempt to wriggle away from him, that he was scaring me. And with this realization, his eyes began to relax, his pupils slowly contracting, and he straightened up, turned, and walked back to the centre of the room again. He rolled his shoulders a few times and cleared his throat, composing himself a bit before speaking. When he did, his voice was quieter, calmer, but still hadn't lost its severe edge.
    "I'm not going to ask you what you did, because you already know, in the same way that every one of us knows about the harm we've inflicted firsthand. But just stop to imagine for a moment: we are only two people - two people that don't really have any kind of governing