I retched over the side of the ship, my unhappy stomach disgorging wave after wave of its contents to plummet and then fester in the dark waters of the ocean below.

This was not the first time that I had taken the life of a living creature. But to kill another human being that had done me no harm – one that was so frail and hopeless – and to do so in such a violent and visceral manner…

I turned my head to catch my breath and watched as two sailors hefted the body of the woman by her limbs, the freckled skin of her back visible through her torn and tattered clothing, and tossed her over board. Another surge of nausea hit me. I turned back to the sea and retched again. My ears still rang from the sound of the gunshot.

The sailors spent the remainder of their time in my company looking smugly in my direction, regarding me as if I was a child unable to face the slightest bout of hardship. These were, I remind you, the same men that allowed two civilians to lead the charge into what they, at the time, had assumed would be a potentially deadly mission.

The one with the fingernail scratches across his face was the same one that had looked so embarrassed after having confided in us about his repeated rape and brutal murder of a terrified girl whose only crime was that she would not stay dead.

If this is fate’s idea of justice served, then I cannot help but be reassured of my belief that the world surrounding us is all but cruel and dispassionately unsympathetic.