Julian Fairthorn

Hi guys! Batool here. For those of you who haven't read "You and the train" and "Zita" already, go and read those two first and then read this one. I'll gladly wait:)

Monster. Monster. Monster. You are a monster. What else can you be? A person who lost his parents, his siblings, his family, his wife, his relations, all because of his vicious nature. What else can he be called? There is blood, a lot of it. And, then there is Zita. Despite being bruised all over, a weak smile blossoms over her face as she whispers, "Jules, it isn't...over." And just like that, she is dead. Dead in your arms. Lifeless. Oh, and only if you hadn't been such a monster she would have been with you today.

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. She was the kind of woman every other woman longed to be. She was extraordinarily confident. Confident before she met you, before she came across the monster in you, before she withered away, slowly and painfully. 

It is the day. The sentencing takes place today. Despite being long-dead, Zita never lets you sleep in peace. After her death, came your destruction. June, your neighbor brought it. She put forth the evidence of abuse and violence on poor Zita. And above all, she became the witness. Oh, and only if you hadn't been such a monster, the circumstances would've been different.

You are moving in feverish haste, anxious to get going when you hear your doorbell ring. It might be the milk-man or the new neighbor's youngest kid, Charlie. It might be the presser with the clothes, you are too lazy to iron or even wash. You curse under your breath and move to open your door. Your right foot's toe hits the corner of your bed and you curse under your breath again. This is God's way of punishing you, little by little, all for treating Zita badly. Oh, and only if you hadn't been such a monster, God wouldn't have to punish you this way.

You open the door to find June. She looks different in an alarming way. Her hair is tied back into a sleek bun. Her lips are painted a bright red. She is dressed in an ankle-length black dress. Daunting. "Did you forget? The day of your sentencing is today, Mr. Julian. Shall we go?" You clear your throat and nod, almost timidly. You nod as an obedient child would nod to his parents. You mutter a silent prayer, turn around to check, and then double-check whether your main lock has been clasped properly and then move towards June's car.

How weird is the fact that two enemies sit side by side with their mouths clamped shut, ready to go to the court? On your way to the court, you see a girl holding hands with a little boy. She is very protective of the boy, never even by chance letting him disappear from her sight. You feel punched in your gut. Oh, and only if you had been protective of Zita the same way, this day would have been so different. Sighing, you close your eyes. 

You arrive at the court. The court has changed dramatically since your last memory of it. The previously painted black wooden benches have been painted brown now. The courtroom looks changed. A lot bigger. There are the Judge and the clerk. There are the attorneys and the witnesses and the jurors. So many people to witness your end. Your end. It has always been the same way. Since the day June opened the case, you've always dreamt of your end. You've always dreamt of Zita winning and you losing. Oh, and only if you hadn't been such a monster, your end wouldn't have come so soon.

You are sitting and waiting. Sitting and waiting for the sentencing to start when you see Zita approaching you. She's dressed in a white, flowy gown. Her eyes are painted charcoal black. Other than this, she wears no makeup. "Jules...," she whispers. "It is time, my love. It is time for you to join me, up in the clouds. Jules..." and she moves her hands towards you as if she would grab you and flee away. You scream.

You scream at the top of your lungs and shout, "No, no, no, no. I didn't hit you on purpose. Believe me. Stay away from me. STAY AWAY!" June comes over to calm you down. "Mr. Julian, behave yourself. We are in court." You move away from her and head to the exit but see yourself trapped amongst the judge, the clerks, the attorneys, the witnesses, and the jurors. June had already said it, once before. Dammit.

Dammit. How could you forget? She had already presented you as a madman in front of the court. A madman who hit his wife everyday. So much so that she was obliged to take her own life. Oh, and only if you hadn't been such a monster and a madman, she wouldn't have to take her own life. You shoot one of your looks to June and she looks over to the judge as if seeking help.

"Ms. June. I would appreciate it if you could come back to your place and let the court do its job." June proceeds to sit over at her place. "And Mr. Julian," the judge continues. "Please take a seat and let us begin with the sentencing." You move over to your place too with your heart still pounding furiously against your chest and your hands cold and trembling. Oh, and only if, you could get another chance.

You remember the happening at your last trial. When the Judge had announced you to be GUILTY. And then there had been several pleadings from your attorney's side. Thankfully, the Judge had taken all the appealing into consideration. And now was the time to hear the final sentence. The Judge takes out a small chit from his robe's pocket and briefly glances at you. The temperature around you suddenly rises and you feel sweat running down your back. Your spectacles become foggy with your sweat. Your throat feels drier than the baked summer earth outside. And your leg keeps bouncing: up and down up and down. Oh, and if only you could get another chance.

The Judge clears his throat and pushes his spectacles up, just a bit and says, "A second chance for you, Mr. Fairthorn." he pauses briefly, and then continues, "Not everyone is so lucky."

As you see this, your head starts to spin. You don't really get what is happening all around you. How did the tables turn so suddenly? You feel dizzy and want to get out of this place. Fast. Voices are raised but soon everybody is hushed as the Judge gives his final sentence, "The court has now been dismissed."

As you pass through a large audience, everyone shoots dirty looks at you. Looks of disgust. They shout and throw things at you, clearly in protest. None of these forms of protests seem to contend the verdict. But, your mind is at peace and now it chants, "Julian Fairthorn has been given a second chance."