The world we live in is filled with evil — the kind of evil that steals, kills and destroys. It erupts in every country and every state, and it can tear apart human lives in an instant in the very same way a bomb can. Whether we’re prepared for it or not, evil comes, seeping into those places we thought were safe.

Like the Century movie theater in Colorado.

Like Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut.

Like the finish line of the Boston Marathon in Massachusetts.

By now, a few days have passed since the horrific events in Boston. I sat at my computer for hours on Monday afternoon, monitoring live feeds and all the news coverage of the mess. Here were people who had come to watch and participate in one of humanity’s greatest physical feats, a race for the very best runners with the fastest legs — and here were people who left the marathon without legs. Without limbs. Without lives.

That is what evil looks like. And it’s not going anywhere.

I believe the very last line of Wednesday’s Chicago Tribune editorial put it best: “And may all of us who revere this institution of American sport chip away at our fears of murders we’ll never be able to scour from the Earth.”

Murderers, thieves, bombers, offenders — these are the ones who we will never be able to scour. Evil is a person, threatening to steal our security, kill our confidence, and destroy our unity. This enemy is a permanent fixture on earth. It is here to stay.

But.

Hope.

Tragedies have a peculiar way of bringing people together, of creating beauty from the ashes. On Monday, after the bombs went off and chaos ensued, people jumped into action. They ran straight toward that fence at the finish line, tearing it down, diving over the wreckage to help out in any way possible. They were strong. They were brave.

And past Boston, the country reacted. We slowly began to get bits and pieces of the story, and from there, social media exploded. My Twitter feed looked similar to the way it did during the Newtown massacre — except #PrayForNewtown became #PrayForBoston. We became united in prayer.

The day went on and so did the acts of kindness: Bostonians opened their homes to displaced runners, volunteers worked tirelessly to reunite marathoners with their belongings, small-business owners invited the community in for a drink and some Wi-Fi, and runners went straight from the finish line to the hospital to donate blood to victims.

Just a few hours after the explosions, the American Red Cross tweeted, “Thanks to generosity of volunteer blood donors there is currently enough blood on the shelves to meet demand. #BostonMarathon.”

But.

Hope.

There will always be darkness, but at the end of every tunnel, there is a glimmer of light. To find it, we must first walk through pain. We have to fight the enemy. Band together. Hate what is evil and cling to what is good.

For Boston, it is too soon to search for beauty. The city is wounded, still reeling from Monday and wondering why evil came to its finish line. Three precious lives were lost, and countless lives were changed forever. I don’t pretend to understand what tragedy feels like — many of us haven’t experienced it first-hand.

We can, however, show our support and take a stand against evil. Because it is real, and it is here.

But.

Hope.

Hope is here, too.

Melanie is a sophomore in Media. She can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her on Twitter @mellystone.