Tales From Avator
Deserved Justice
page 1
Its not what I had expected.
Well, almost not what I had expected.
The pain has gone. This much I had planned on. My last five days had been a living hell, lying helpless on my deathbed. The sores that covered my backside, the stench of urine and of rotting flesh was finally behind me. My physical suffering has ended, but the pain of my knowledge still continues. The emotions that grew out of hatred, anger and fear still linger, becoming crystal clear.
It was my brother, my flesh and blood brother, who was my assassin. Sure, it is possible to argue that my death wasn't intentional, or premeditated. Certainly no breeder would ever judge another guilty of murder, under the circumstances. But in my mind, it would have been easier if he had simply shot me in the head. I didn't need to suffer so.
It was three years ago that Richard had signed his first record deal. He never really liked music as much as I did. He certainly thought I was insane to actually go to college to study music. He just wanted the sex, I wanted to teach music. Touring non-stop took him everywhere. I was always aware of his lack of sexual preferences. If it could suck him off or had a whole, he was happy. He always knew how to live up to his name. I guess I probably knew he was infected, I just didn't think it could affect me.
I was the married one, the one with a steady job and investments. She never told me she was dissatisfied. When she talked me into signing up for weekend studies, I believed it was because she had faith in me. I believed she cared about my position at the school, about our life goals. I believed in her. How could I have ever accepted that they just wanted me away for the weekends. I can remember her telling me, "All the time we spend apart is so we can have a better life for our children,... when we decide we are ready for children." We never really did reach that day.
I remember all those nights after classes. The other teachers would try to get me to go out on the town. I felt like I was cheating on my wife if I went out to strip bars. My colleagues would say that flirting was innocent and natural. Everyone did it. I would try to convince them that it wasn't innocent, but lying. "...lying to the persons you shove money at, lying to your family, and lying to yourself", I would say. It does sound a little repetitious now, looking back. I had wondered why they always laughed so hard. Did they know?
Well, they may have been laughing at me in the beginning, but it didn't last long. In the end they were afraid for their own lives, which they had gambled with so many times in the past. They were the ones that had visited the prostitutes, they were the ones that had cheated on their wives week in and week out. If I could die from Aids, leading the monogamous life they knew I led, what about them? Weren't they the real sinners? Shouldn't they die before me or would their deaths be far worse? Their denial was so complete. It didn't take long before a few of them began claiming they had seen me at "undignified" parties, sometimes with little boys under my arms. These kind of lies helped the most guilty bury their most private sins. It was far easier to believe that I was the sexual deviant, who deserved my death. They needed to believe that they were not being personally threatened, than accept what they faced every time they bred. "It could never happen to us", they kept telling themselves. I wonder how many will deny their own death?
I wonder how the children will rationalize this, watching their teacher begin to shrivel into ashes. Having the school forced into the center of this was just too much. As the play of death progressed, it was definitely fear in their eyes when they handed me my pink slip. At the time I had asked myself how anyone could be so cold and uncaring. I find an understanding now. Buried deep in their fortress of denial, how could they handle the trauma, the shock? It was probably best for the children this way. Some might have learned from this lesson of trust and mistrust, but that would show flaws in the facade that was moral society. I can still remember their faces.
