The bystander effect made into a landscape. You are the chair. You have been wounded right there in the open, in full view of lit windows. You bled where everyone could see you. You expected that at least one light would mean someone would come out, call out, open a door. But no door opened. So you had to get up wounded and leave your own blood trail to find help yourself. You had to be the one to seek it, while being watched by people who chose the comfort of their own glow over stepping onto the dark grass with you. That's what hurts more than the wound itself - the realization that suffering can be completely visible and still be ignored. People will watch from their windows. They see the blood. They see you struggling. They tell themselves it's not their business, someone else will help, it's probably not that bad. The lights stay on, but the empathy stays off.