Why are people so cruel?
They cheat, they steal, they lie. They have no compassion for anyone but themselves. Humans are why hell was created. Because of their existence and their obsessions for sin, mothers weep, children's minds become jaded with thoughts of robbers and human selfishness or greed. Humans are the reason locks were invented, were the reason prisons and death penalties came about. It's hard to believe that we as humans are still thriving as a species.
Why are some more cruel than others?
There are no different degrees of sin, but some people definitely are lower than others. It's that difference that makes robbers into murderers, thieves into madmen, angered men into rapists. That difference is designated by courage to let it get that far. Who decides if someone has unjust courage?
Why do some make others cruel?
The Cardmaster. Living to ruin other lives around him, to extinguish hope when he sees it. A psychological sadist, to be blunt. You have to wonder how he got that way, honestly. Maybe he was wronged himself, but it didn't matter anymore. He's not around anymore.
Why was he so cruel?
The doctor. The man who spearheaded death itself with an iron claw. Who took enjoyment from causing others pain, whether it be taunting or experimenting on something unrecognizable. And he enjoyed it. Oh, how he enjoyed it. Every drop of blood spilt, every cry of agony under his hand, he felt not a chill. He just allowed a childish grin to dance upon his handsome features.
Why was he such a child?
He didn't mean to be the way he was. It was the Cardmaster's fault. He corrupted the doctor from a young age. The doctor wanted to be good, he wanted people to accept and love him. His violent tendencies were just a way of pronouncing these facts without words. He'd never been one for words.
Why wasn't he one for words?
Maybe because his father didn't take to words. If someone stood around and spoke all the time, nothing would get done. If he was one for words, he could have gotten the assistance he needed. But instead, he closed off his heart, making it cold and indifferent to emotions…but he was still great.
Why was he such a great man?
He had a good soul. It didn't matter how many people he murdered, he was still a wonderful man. He did everything out of obedience or passion, out of a longing or a specific moral. The way he cared for animals was astounding, the way he handled the living was even more so. The way he retained a perfect poker face as his mind and soul were being ravaged by a tempest of trauma was admirable.
Why was his life a disaster?
Purely because he was such a good man. Those with good intentions are always banished from happiness, ejected from the pinnacle of ease. Demons and devils were attracted to such content souls, and that was exactly what the Cardmaster was…a demon looking to corrupt his half son's life with every ounce of what he had. The doctor didn't ask for it…it was a trial for a good man. But he was at ease now, since he was gone too.
Why was he gone?
As was the case for before, it was his good nature that struck him out. His father, even though not by blood, was his father. No matter what the Cardmaster said or did, the doctor cared for him like the guardian he was. Being a son, he had no choice but to protect him with everything.
Why did no one stop him?
Honour. If the doctor had been saved that day, his loyalty and pride would smash. And no one knew what he was planning. Which takes us back to an earlier point--if he wished to have a voice, to share with others what he felt instead of stowing it away, someone COULD have stopped him. But I guess…he didn't want that.
Why didn't I stop him?
I wasn't there to stop him.
Why wasn't I there?
…I honestly don't know.