Ｒｅｄｅｃｏｒａｔｅ

Fallacy-Part 4

"Fated; but it doesn't feel right."

Today, Julian Rosaeles had a dream. A dream about his parents. A dream about his siblings. A dream about him.

Julian Rosaeles greeted his brothers and sisters to school with a smile on his face. He didn't know if he looked like he was smiling. He hoped he didn't look like what his heart was feeling. Julian let the busy London commuters pass by him as he looked down from his window and observed the city. People roamed freely outside. Some went to work and others like his brothers and sisters; to school. Julian even found himself jealous of the people than wandered the street aimlessly roaming the callous London Market Square, looking at all kinds of things Julian could only hope to be near and experience.

"Julian we're leaving! Please close the door behind me!"

Julian heard his mother call out to him. He slowly stepped outside his bedroom and nodded at her. She turned towards the other children all sprawled around her in their uniforms, chatting away to each other. Lila waved at Julian. He waved back. Julian's mother smiled around her children. She smiled happily and she laughed happily. She also looked back at Julian with a pained expression as she closed the door of the apartment. When you had a good for nothing son, you wanted them out of the house. It's natural to see them as a burden. Julian thought of himself as a burden. It wasn't irrational. It wasn't something he could drown out with love. He didn't feel any love; not from his family. His siblings did not suffer like Julian did. His mother didn't see them as a burden.

Julian had always been sick, since his birth. Always being laid in his bed and taken care of. It must get tiring.

But Julian had planned to relieve his mother of her torment. He planned to relieve himself of his torment. If they thought of him as burden, he would leave. Once his sickness got better, once he roamed London all by himself, he would leave them behind. He hated them and their notion of a "Julian the burden." Of course, he'd come back for Lila time to time. But just Lila. Because she was the only one that didn't look at him with sadness or pity. She was the only one he'd loved.

So, in this trance, Julian slept. Every time in this trance of pride and hate, Julian was able to sleep. The prospect of hope not biting his skin. The prospect of freedom giving him strength.

And so, he slept, each time his stomach relented to his dreams.

Julian's mother slowly caressed the hair from her son's temple. She put a wet towel on his face as she'd done every time his stomach pain intensified, every time he had a gut-wrenching headache and every time he had sudden fevers. She suffered, even through the clear hatred of her son. Her son that had gotten everything snatched away from him for no good reason. Her son that had never gotten a life. Because living like Julian did wasn't living. She patted his hair.

The apartment door lock creaked open. Her husband had returned. She let Julian sleep with one last swirl of her hands over his face and she strolled out of the room.