Judgement is Given

 

JUDGEMENT IS GIVEN.

 

"Was it 5 o'clock or 4.30?"

The man in the black cloak asked. 

 

"It was around that time”, timidly replied the girl. 

 

"You're not sure? But previously you were so sure that it was 4.30 in the evening...and your statement shows that you were sure of the time because it was after your tuition class?" pushed the cloaked man. 

 

Is this even necessary?  

 

"Yes", a flustered reply.

"Yes, to what? That you're not sure about the time or yes it was the end of your classes…..." And it continued. 

 

How would this look to an outsider who had no idea what was going on? Will they see a middleaged man inquiring a little girl, forcing her to explain minute details that are seemingly not needed? Or will they see a bigger system nurturing the strong in the guise of helping the weak? A system which requires you to paint a picture of helplessness as opposed to one of innocence? A system that translates 15 years and 364 days into the inability to show consent and on the 365th day - overnight having procured intelligence and wisdom - to show better judgement? 

 

The cloaked man started to speculate louder breaking the silent revery of my mind. 

 

"You want us to take your word that you believed he was offering help? That you did not even suspect for one minute that there was anything other than 'help'? No hidden agendas implied whatsoever?"  

 

She tried to stammer a reply.

 

The girl was not even looking up anymore. She was staring into her fidgeting hands. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she was tired after days and days of speculation at the expense of her sanity. 

Does she feel scared? Is she starting to doubt her choice? Does she feel alone? 

 

I wish she knew...

I wish she knew that she wasn't alone in her plight inside these walls that promise justice. 

If only she knew.

 

*blink* 

 

It was dark. 

The glaring strays of a street light making everything dance with blue spots. Suddenly the light is not on my face. 

Instead, there is a mouth that curves into a friendly smile. 

A smile that knew a friendly smile in return was guaranteed. 

A familiar smile.

A comforting smile. 

 

That smiling mouth changed its shape to form words that I can't hear anymore. But they immediately make me smile.  

 

*blink*

 

I couldn't recognize the crying girl pleading with the cloaked man. Muffled words flowing from her mouth. 

I try to blink hard and focus on her words. 

On what she's saying. 

Her efforts to convince a wall spray painted with patriarchy of her reality and her truth. 

 

*blink*

 

Walking down the street listening to his voice saying the latest anecdotes and laughing till tears come and ribs hurt. Thinking - nay, praying for this friendly soul to keep joy and laughter in my life forever. 

Turning to the dark street and mumbling the words "I can go from here. Thank you" to hear the smiling mouth curve in protest. 

Shaking my head and walking into the dark street giving into his plea and silently smiling at the tall figure next to me thinking "my white knight in shiny armour" and giggling into the night. 

 

*blink* 

 

The girl was still crying. How long has it been? She was still talking. 

Her words sound so familiar. 

Like listening to a childhood tale of The Wolf and The Red-Riding-Hood said by someone else.

So familiar. 

Word by word. 

Suddenly she stopped talking. 

Staring at the girl I absentmindedly wiped the tears off my face that I didn't know were there.

 

When did I start to cry?

 

As I was wiping my face, I saw the crying girl mirror my motion. 

She was staring at me.  

I felt her eyes looking through me and into my unsettled mind. 

I looked away unable to help her silent plea. 

"How can I help you when I couldn't even help me?" I wanted to ask her.

 

*blink*

 

Dark street. 

Illegible words forming in his mouth. 

Hands reaching. 

The smiling mouth saying unfamiliar words. 

The face that kept getting closer. 

Panic. 

A building scream. 

“Help!” 

The words choking me. 

“Please don't.” 

A wall behind me. 

“Shhhh…it’s okay. It’s okay” I hear his words from a world away.

A searing pain. 

Hot breath on my face. 

More words thrown at me. 

Tears. 

It stops.

Shuffling of feet.

And suddenly I'm alone. 

In the darkness. 

With pain. 

Wishing it was only my body that was falling apart. 

 

*blink* 

 

More snickers from the cloaked man. 

More ridicule. 

More challenging words. 

 

In a corner I was choking back tears and a scream. 

My eyes now trying to catch the eyes of the girl whose eye I hastily avoided. 

My mind was buzzing. 

The cloaked man was putting on an Oscar worthy performance.

She was looking at a corner. At Goddess Themis who had her eyes covered and was wearing a robe while bearing a balance in one hand and a sword on the other. Was she trying to appeal to the woman in her?

 

Through the loud chatter of my thoughts, I hear the cloaked man continue. With each word, the chatter in my head gets louder. 

"Lying…" 

*blink*

Louder. 

"Waiting for an opportunity…"

*blink*

Louder. 

"Excuses…"

*blink*

Louder. 

“...asked for it…"

*blink*

Louder. 

*blink* 

And finally, he stops. 

*blink* 

And the girl looks at me.

 

I catch her eye. I try to smile at her through my tears. To let her know that she's not alone. As I feel my mouth stretch into a smile, I see a ghost of a smile on her tear-stained face. 

I try to mouth words of encouragement at her. 

As I opened my mouth to say something – anything - I see her opening her mouth. 

I close mine and she closes hers too. I feel such confusion. 

I see confusion etched in her face too. 

 

"No further questions, your honour". 

The cloaked man sits. 

 

The judgement will be given later.

She gets up to leave. 

I'm still looking at her.

She leaves me with a smile lingering of hope as I watch her get up and walk away. 

Does she know? 

Does she know that her judgement is given? 

Does the waiting girl know her judgement is already given? 

                                                                                                                    -Anjalee Ranasinghe-