This Is All My Fault

This Is All My Fault

By Kristi Sturgeon

This story is a character study of Judas Iscariot and therefore has a small bit of gore.  It also contains death and suicide.

Tuesday, April 2nd

     I did what the men asked and was well-paid for it.  We agreed on a signal, and I gave it, and they arrested my boss on some kinda trumped-up charges.  But I didn’t think it would go this far.  I mean, I thought they’d put him in jail for a few days and let him go–you know, just enough time to teach him a lesson.  Now they’ve roughed him up so much that he’s unrecognizable! His skin is literally hanging off his skeleton in shreds!  Oh geesh, oh man!  Sure, he was a bit of a nut job, but no one deserves this.  No one.  This is all my fault!  

You see, this guy I work for has a really charismatic personality, and when he talks, people hang on his every word.  I guess you could say he’s a regular Dr. Phil or Oprah, except he has this ESP thing going on that’s really weird.  He’s a sort of teacher–a real guru; he talks in riddles a lot, and there’s still much of what he says that I don’t understand.  And he’s also a faith healer–or maybe he’s just the world’s greatest con man.  I haven’t figured that part out yet.  Personally, I think he’s probably the latter.  I mean, why else would the establishment want him so badly if not for that?

In addition to being a great talker and mind reader, he loves to argue religion with scholars of the subject.  He says things that get them good and riled, and they don’t like that too much.  They also don’t appreciate that he’s developed such a cult-like following.  People follow him everywhere!  The other day, when he was teaching way out in the country, we didn’t have anything to eat for lunch, and there was a huge crowd.  There wasn’t a burger or pizza joint nearby, and I doubt very seriously that Uber Eats would have come out that far.  Anyway, he collected what other people had.  I’m not sure what kind of magic he did, but we fed the whole crowd with whatever they had, and there was still some leftover!  It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!

The boss man has groupies that follow him around doing his bidding.  I know this because I’m one of them; it’s my job to handle his and his group’s finances.  You see, we sometimes get money for odd jobs, or after he speaks.  Can you imagine that?  Getting money for talking?  I didn’t know that was a thing.  The cool thing is that it’s usually a decent amount, so what I don’t understand is why we don’t use it to live it up a little!  We always stay in people’s houses, or camp out, not at a KOA, but along the side of the road, or in some random field!  Why we don’t get an Airbnb with a pool is beyond me.  We have the cash.  Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes, I even skim a little off the top.  Don’t you think I deserved a little somethin’-somethin’ for luggin’ that heavy bag of coins everywhere?  That’s what makes me think that the boss might be a con.  If he has ESP, he should know I’m taking a cut.  He never says anything to me though.

He hand-picked all of us in this gang.  He simply told us to follow him, and we did.  We weren’t jumped in or anything like that.  We aren’t a cartel; mostly, we try to help people.  And all of us bring something different to the table.  I’m not sure why he needed a thief like me, but I’m sure he has plans.  He always does.

There’s also this girl that hangs out with us.  She’s kind of odd.  The other night, she used a huge bottle of very expensive perfume to wash the boss’s feet!  What a waste!  And when I said as much, he told me to leave her alone!  Then he gets all morose and starts talking about dying.  He can be that way sometimes.  Oh, and that girl also dried his feet with her hair.  Ew!

During a festival, we went through a city and everyone was so happy to see my boss!  People were so kind and kept shouting nice things to him.  It was quite the reception!

In contrast, dinner last night was a little strange.  While we were eating, my boss said that one of us would rat him out to the authorities.  At first, I rolled my eyes thinking he was in one of his melancholy moods, but then we all began to ask him, “Is it me?”  When I asked, he said, “It’s as you say.”  Did I mention how bold he is? I shouldn’t have been surprised by what he said, but I was. As usual, he was right.  Again, I’m not sayin’ that I believe in his freaky mental abilities, but most of the time, he gets it right.  

     My betrayal wasn’t personal.  It was just business.  Easy money.  A little tit for tat.  I’m a thief, after all. I am what I am.

Wednesday, April 3rd

No, no, NO!  This can’t be happening!  They’ve already flogged him publicly, and now they’re hanging him?!  For what?!  How can this be?  What have I done?!  Oh my God!  How?  Why?  I–I don’t understand!

This was a setup from the very beginning.  I thought this was an easy score–a nothing job.  I had no idea that this was going to lead to a man being sentenced to death!  To me, he was just another con.

I tried giving the money back–threw the bag of coins at their feet!  “He’s innocent!  I was wrong!” I yelled at them. 

But his enemies just sneered at me and said, “Why do we care?  That’s your problem.”

Is he really who he claims to be?  Nah--he couldn’t be, could he?  But what if he is the real deal? If he is?  If all the healings and miracles are legit–oh God!  What did I do?  

I just killed God incarnate.

     Upon realizing that he had betrayed Jesus into the hands of those that would kill him, Judas Iscariot hung himself.