“Oh… my… Lord… Not again…”, voice barely audible. Splatters of blood where everywhere, like a crazed painter took a sponge soaked in red paint and flung it the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Julian stood there, knowing that it was that time again. When ‘he’ came, and left ‘presents’. Sometimes it was a finger, still warm to the touch, at other times, like now, it was more – a lot more. Julian’s stomach turned, as he raced to the toilet, fumbling with the lid through silent retching from his throat he stopped. Looking in horror, he sees the sawn off face of a female in her late twenties, or what was left of it, floating in the toilet. Julian collapsed.
“He’s weak”, Vernon muttered to himself,” I should just put him out of his misery. That’ll be doing the world a bloody favor!”. He couldn’t do it through. Vernon Meldor cared too much for Julian to do that. He needed to do something though, these gifts that he had been living for Julian were just not appreciated by him anymore. “Vern! VERN!!! Come here! NOW!!!! Son… do NOT make me come there and beat you”. Vernon shuts his eyes screaming, “SHUT UP!!!! SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!!!”. It didn’t stop the beating that followed…
The cops finished questioning Julian. He was no stranger to them, somehow along in this sick case he was linked but they could never prove it. He sat, face held in his hands, answering their questions, as best he could, though he had no idea what they wanted. Why would he kill someone?! A mother of a little four years old boy?! “Is the boy okay?”, he wanted to know to which they made snide comments about whether he wanted to ‘do him’ too. Julian just sat there, bewildered, confused, too tired to retaliate because although he had slept a full 8 hours, it felt as if he had not slept at all.
Vernon watched him, walking in his drunken stupor back to his dilapidated house. It wasn’t 5 minutes later before the screaming, shouting and inevitable sound of things breaking filled his ears. 20 minutes later, the man whom Vernon had been following stumbled out of the house. Vernon watched, followed, plotting this despicable person’s ultimate, painful demise. That was the best part: the pain. See, years of receiving pain taught Vernon a few things about how to dish it out as well.
The man did not know what hit him. A clipping blow to arm from an iron pole broke it before the attack even registered; either that or he was so drunk he didn’t even know his arm was broken. Another blow across the kneecap did the deed of incapacitating him. Vernon pulled out his prized toy: a razor sharp carpenter’s knife as he crouched over the hapless man with a look of glee on his face.
Julian looked through eyes that weren’t his own. “NO! NO!!!!!”, he screamed silently.
Vernon ignored Julian as he slid the knife easily through skin and organs, priding himself in his job of purification. No person deserved the life that he had to live… no… no live… survive. Flashes of a face that should have been his father’s appeared fleeting in his mind. “See dad! I AM good at what I do! I am NOT a failure like you! I am NOT going to let others go through what YOU did to ME!!!”. Those words were his only solace to what was.
Julian watched in horror. Unable to move. Trapped.
An hour later the deed was done. Julian looked at himself in the reflection of a car in the parking lot next to the 800m bridge. “Now you see… Now you know, Julian”. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he replied silently as he walked towards the bridge. Julian had forgotten what happened through most of his life. All he remembered was his foster parents. He didn’t remember the abuse, the months he had to spend in hospital from the beatings that he fell privy to. The night that cops took his father away, and who now sat in jail somewhere. “What was his name again?”, he tried to remember. “Does that make a difference? It still amounts to the same thing doesn’t it? It’s up to us to wipe them off this earth!” “NO! Who are YOU to play judge and jury!!!”. “Were they there for you? When you were lying in a pool of your own blood and broken bones?!?!?!”. Julian dropped his head and looked out across the bridge to the valley which strew out. What a sight, the rising sun spraying rays of red, orange and yellow across the valley.
A new day yes, but what about the day before?
Most people never believe the impact they have on other. The same can be said for those who have had to go through their lives with not just maybe an abusive family member, but an abusive relationship or friendship. Too many times we forget that it may not take much for that person to ‘crack’. For every action there is a consequence. It is you who must live with the consequences of these actions, whether good or bad. Beware the path which you take, lest you find the Gemini within.