“Do it,” he taunts. He isn’t looking at me, his head is turned with his body.

“Do..what?” is my reply.

“Do it,” is what he says. This time, he motions toward the knife with the back of his head. He wants me to stab him.

This man wants to be killed.

“I don’t kill,” I say, “I help people. I don’t hurt them.”

“Help me,” is what is shouted back, “help me by killing me.” His voice cracks on those last few syllables.

“No. No, I can’t.” I try to back away, but find that I can’t move.

“Do it!” he yells, suddenly hysterical, “Do it! Do it now!”

“No! Sir, I will not harm you.” I try to keep my cool.

“Do it, you pussy,” is what he says. His voice lower, more calm.

“I..I can’t move! How can I stab you if I can’t move?”

There is no response. I look at the knife. It’s position is unchanged. It lays on the floor, blade pointed towards my companion. I think. I think as hard as I can and I try to concentrate on this weapon on the floor.

Nothing.