The Tale of Junazahite: Dance with the Devil

Chapter Two: The Drunk One

2. Junazahite has been in this world since the beginning of creation, going through cycles of reincarnation, but he is not aware of his power.

The silence in the house didn't seem real. There was still chaos out there. John had been sitting on the wooden chair for hours, staring at nothingness. He couldn't believe that he'd lost Joan for good. He would never see her again, hear her again, or even hug her again. On the other half, Monia's face was burnt so severely that healers said she wouldn't look the same ever again. They paid fifty Ni-Coins to buy her bandages and painkillers; it cost them half of John's salary.

Everything happened so fast that nobody knew when to grieve. All they knew was that Junazahite was coming, and the traitors were the ones who caused the explosions. John hoped the traitors would explode their house, too. He didn't want to live anymore.

"What are you doing here?" David asked, breaking the unbearable silence.

John stared at him. He was drunk again, his eyes relaxed and narrow, his cheeks red, unstable. He looked as though he didn't care about anything.

"Leave me alone," John said quietly, his throat hurting.

How could he drink after Joan's death? She always hated him for this. John had the huge urge to stand up and choke his father to death. But he remained on the chair, trying not to look at David.

"Oh, lad!" David mumbled, sitting next to him. "You don't know anything, do you?"

"Oh, just shut up!" John abruptly shouted, his hands shaking, his eyes wet with tears.

He was worried that he might have woken up Monia, but she was still asleep, dreaming a nightmare perhaps. He wanted to do something but had no idea. He wasn't capable of anything, as if drowned in the bottomless darkness. Usually, Joan would cheer him up, dragging him from the harsh reality. Without her, everything seemed pointless.

"You think it's my fault, don't you?" David asked hoarsely.

John didn't say anything. Maybe if David hadn't been fired, this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps Joan would have been alive in their old house, not worrying about money or anything else. They might have even been celebrating the rise of Junazahite as well.

"Well," David sighed. "Maybe it is. If I hadn't gotten involved too much in the politics ..."

He went silent suddenly, breathing fast, trying to hold his tears back.

"What do you mean?" John asked, frowning, confused. He stared at his father's sweaty face, and the only thing he could see was guilt in his eyes.

"My son ... the world we're living in is not good at all."

"I know!" John said impatiently, sweating in the hot atmosphere. "I don't know why I'm listening to you. You are drunk again!"

He stood on his feet. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Maybe he would kill David if he stayed here. The chances didn't seem too impossible for him.

And yes, this world was not good at all. Maybe it was time for John to loosen up. He was sure that he had nothing to lose anymore.

"They kill people, John!" David whispered quietly as though he didn't want anyone to hear him out except John."I had to cooperate with them, or they would have killed me too. I had to torture men, women, and even kids!"

John sat slowly on the chair, speechless, worried, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

"What?" he asked, staring directly at his father's sinful eyes. "What did you do?"

"When I was just a young man, I wanted to save people, be a savior! I helped people and became popular. My father helped me to step into Parliament ... but only if I knew! ... I even adopted you. I wanted to save at least one of the kids in the poor areas."

John realized David was crying, his tears glowing on his cheeks, mixing with his sweat.

"If I hadn't obeyed them," he continued desperately. "They would've killed all of us. They're ruthless, John! They have no mercy." He sobbed for a fleeting moment, which led him to a hiccup. "Leader Farib wants to take down the Fadayists."

"The what?" John asked, not knowing whether to take him seriously or not.

"The Fadayists!" he repeated. "The government calls them traitors. Farib does everything in order to destroy them all. I had to kill so many of them. Oh, my dear Junazahite! What have I done?! That's why you took my little girl, huh?! That's all my fault!"

David cried hysterically. John was stunned, unable to talk, just watching his father sobbing and blaming himself.

"It was them, the Fadayists, who caused these attacks?" John asked after a while, full of rage, ready to get revenge.

"NO!" David barked suddenly, breathing hard. "It was Farib's order! They want to kill Junazahite! If he rises, he'll kill Farib and all the Junazahitists. Or even worse! There's a chance that he may kill all the humans because not only isn't the society pure and holy, but also it's rotten and sinful as hell!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't say more. I don't want to put you in danger. Just know that everything you learned is a lie." he stood up, kneeling in front of John. "I beg you, son! I had to turn to alcohol! I was looking for an excuse to get fired. I couldn't keep killing people. Forgive me. It's all my fault! Oh, dear Junazahite, kill me! Please end this agony!"

John was shaking, wanting to throw up. These years, he was living mindlessly. What was really happening? He desperately wanted to know, but this could wait.

"Dad!" John whispered kindly, a weak smile on his face. "It's not your fault. You did everything you could to keep us safe. It's not your fault that the world is cruel. Right now, you need to sleep. Tomorrow, I have to go to work. You need to go deal with ... Joan in the morgue. Okay? Now stand up."

John lifted David's heavy weight in the bedroom. Monia was still asleep. John led his father to the bed and did what Joan used to do; he kissed his father's forehead. If he could, he'd kiss his mother, too, but he didn't want to cause her more pain.

He got back to the living room where he and Joan used to sleep. Honestly, he had no idea what he should do or feel.

Junazahite was real. He was about to rise. The Junazahitists were the ones who wanted to kill him. Somehow, the Fadayists were involved in this, too. But the only thing that mattered was that Joan was killed because of their hunger for power. They had to pay for it, but how? John was too desperate and confused to think.