Reasons

When something happens, such as an illness, does it happen for a reason?

"July 13th, Friday (3:43 pm)

Dear Diary,

I know there is not much need for me to keep a diary anymore, but for the many (sarcasm) people who will read this, I am currently 35 years of age, my name is Julie Scarlet Andes. Who am I really though? I am an amateur author, a musician and a philosopher. I love the outdoors, especially my back garden. A sky of green grass surrounded by clouds of flowers in a rainbow of colours. Sweet scents would waft around my heaven, carried by the soft wind. In the middle of it all is my niece. A sweet, young little angel sitting in the middle of my heaven. An angel that would do no harm to anyone, no matter who they are.

I trust that she'll have someone loving to take care of her while I'm sick and away.

Yours truly,

Julie"

The large man stopped speaking, tears stinging his grey eyes as he choked down tears. Was he weeping for the person who wrote the diary? No, because he knew that she was in a better place, but he was weeping for the fragile little girl in front of him. Convincing himself that he had to finish, he swallowed. He paused. He continued.

"July 15th, Sunday (12:14 pm)

Dear Diary,

I drove over to the city for the trial. It was my first time at a trial and I was quite nervous. The hallways had grand, but plain brick walls and a dark, fuzzy carpet that stretched over all of the small area. I've been told that this building has been standing here since 1825! I hope that my diary would survive as long as this building, something like Anne Frank's. I want people to know what has happened to me.

Me... Someone who has currently been sentenced to "3 weeks of prison for thievery of food", to quote the judge.

If he was to see the events from my point of view, he would've let me go. There are several things I missed out from my briefing of myself in the first diary entry 2 days ago that would've let me go free. I'm broke. I'm sorry that I have cancer, but I can't afford to leave my niece with no one else to turn to for financial support while I may or may not recover. I'm sorry that I stole food to feed my niece.

What a lovely scenario. Isn't it?

The prison officials have allowed me to keep the diary for the 2 days I'm predicted to stay alive.

Yes. I have a predicted 2 days on earth with a 3 week prison sentence. My doctor passed away only just after telling me that I had cancer, but he never put it onto the records. However, knowing this, I want this to be read out to my niece. Once I pass on, I want the government to find Theo Andes, my brother, who I have no contact with, and I give full custody of my niece to him.

Julie."

The little girl, so soft and warm in the prison's hard, cold chair started to cry. Her usual wide, sparkling brown eyes beginning to water again. She looked like a cloud that had perched on top of a tree to rain. The cloud was falling, pulled by the gravity of the truth, the reality. Shoulders crumpling inwards, folding like a pop-up book, like her heart that was shattered into minute pieces.

She wanted the man to stop. She wanted to cry forever... She wanted her aunt.

The man had no choice but to continue though. No matter how much the scene, the words, the cold heartbeat broke him down, he needed to push further. He was to read the diary, to take the fragile, grieving child home and for the last time, listen to his sister.

"July 16th, Monday (12:00 noon)

Dear Diary,

I hope Andes will read this, for I will not be there for Iris tomorrow.

Iris, my flower, I want you to know that the man reading this is your uncle. He will take care of you from now on. Don't worry sweetie, I'm sure he will be able to do so much more for you than I could ever dream of. I know you will struggle to re-adjust to your new life, but know that everything happens for a reason. I know you will do, and be, the greatest at anything you will ever choose, but please Iris... Make the right choices. Please, don't follow my footsteps. Please know how precious you are to me even if I'm gone. Please don't go down a dark path because of this. Please, just live your life to the fullest.

Theo, I know you will struggle too, but you will have Iris and I certainly know that the both of you will be able to cope with anything that comes your way. As long as you comfort each other, help each other, look after each other. I trust you completely with Iris, just how I completely trust Iris with you. Please, I'm begging you not to grieve too much, Theo. I am always there for the both of you if you look hard enough.

I'm sure all of this happened for a reason.

My cancer must have been a punishment for all the bad things I've done in my life. That bar of chocolate I stole when we were little, the way I treated you when we were kids, the study I didn't do at school which ultimately lead to me being unemployed. I know I could have done something to fix my unemployment, but I still stole from a supermarket. Please, Theo, let Iris live a clean, pure life. Please don't let her end up like me. Please, both of you, live a long, prosperous life.

Goodbye,

Julie."

Frail, innocent Iris had been broken by words. The words of her mother figure. Her aunt. Her only aunt. Her dead aunt. She needed her aunt to survive, she was a part of her. Her heart had died, it had left her. Left her, and the diary. A square, seemingly insignificant, block of paper, but it contained a part of her aunt. It was a part of her. She slumped in her chair, oblivious of everything around her. She refused to believe that her precious aunt had left her alone, with a stranger and a physical piece of her aching heart. Her mind floated, above her head, through the ceilings, through the floors, into the air, into the heavenly galaxies, searching hard. Searching with such desire, such need for her aunt.

She found herself in the perfect garden of their house before they both had to leave. The sea of green grass, the familiar waves of flowers of red, white and blue with crests of majestic purple, but standing in the middle of it was the most familiar of all. Her aunt. She was in an eye-wateringly spotless white dress, her hair finally restored to its original state, a flowing red mass that danced around her like a flame. She looked like a goddess, like the goddess that she was in real life for her. Julie opened her mouth to whisper her last proper words to Iris.

"Irises are my favourite flower for a reason. I had to leave you for a reason, but my love for you has the most reasons of all. I cannot return, my flower. I will gladly wait a long time in this heaven for you to join me. Join me, once you have lived as long as you can live. Goodbye, my little girl."

With her final words, Julie embraced her niece, but when she opened her puffy eyes, she was being hugged by her uncle.

"'Why did she have to go?' Was the horrific message written in blood around a girl found dead in an abandoned house earlier today. It is believed that the girl sliced her finger off to write the words. The girl, aged 17, name Iris Thompson, broke into her former house from 11 years prior, placed a long note explaining her circumstances along with a diary from her late aunt and stabbed herself to death."