You didn’t look into the eyes of Maria Kabachenko after she had been pinned down by four men who invaded her country, then her home, and then her flesh. You didn’t see the desperate, grieving fury in her gaze. You didn’t hold her clutching hands in yours as she begged you, Kill them all. If you had, you would have done what I did. Squeezed her hands back, with all the gentleness in your soul, and then with every drop of rage you could summon, say: I promise I will.
