The Police Hate Magic

Excerpt #1: What is Justice?

"I suffocated him with my magic before I stabbed him," Nathaniel said.

It was the present, and here in front of him sat his mother, sipping on her hot cocoa.

"I wondered why his face was so purple and splotchy," his mother mused. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, is that all? I used my magic to kill him! Something that you told me never to do!" Nathaniel grimaced.

"Well, we were in pretty awful circumstances, weren't we? I don't blame you," his mother answered. "I might have used my magic to kill him, too, if I had found out that your father had stopped giving you water. You would have died!"

Nathaniel's body relaxed.

"Though, the stabbing him seven times afterwards was kind of unnecessary," his mother commented.

"Yeah, my feelings kinda got the best of me," Nathaniel said, scratching his neck.

"Is that it, then?" his mother asked.

"No, not really. I may... have not just killed him... with my magic," Nathaniel revealed, slowly.

His mother's positive face shifted into confusion.

"It may have not been just... a one-time thing?" Nathaniel said.

His mother's mouth opened slightly, and she looked him straight in the eye.

"I may have possibly, um, killed many people with my magic?"

The words kept spilling out of his mouth like vomit. His mother's mouth snapped shut, and she stared at him with horror.

"I mean, uh, I didn't kill lots of people that weren't innocent. They were all bad. Very evil, like father. And that CEO guy. Just... um. I never hurt anyone that was good, I think."

His mother put her face in her hands.

"I mean, I know! I know I haven't killed anyone bad, because my gems don't lie. The news reports, and court documents, and online predator lists don't lie. They only tell about evil people. People who deserve to be punished."

His mother twitched at the last word he uttered.

'Oh god, just stop talking! Shut up! Shut up!' Nathaniel screamed inwardly to himself.

'"Punished?"' his mother repeated, her voice dangerous. "That's the word that he used to say."

Nathaniel felt like he had been slapped. He stood up, and his mother glared at him.

"No, I'm nothing like him. Nothing. I'm destroying evil people, and protecting the innocent," Nathaniel said.

"'The innocent?'" his mother repeated again, her voice shrill. She stood up as well.

"You're not a policeman, or a lawyer! How are you to judge the lives of others?!" his mother asked.

"I'm not stupid! I know the distinction between good and evil, mom!"

"Yeah, and what if the people you killed had families? What about their daughters, sons, wives, and husbands? What about their friends?" his mother challenged. She stepped up to him and pointed a finger in his face.

"Don't play God, Nathaniel. You are not divine, you are not all-knowing, and most of all, you are not justice!" His mother yelled. She shoved her face in his.

Nathaniel felt punctured by her words, and he felt all the anger deflate out of him. It was replaced with wracking guilt, and he bowed his head.

Nathaniel stared at his hands, remembering how they had been smeared and stained with blood. He had choked people, burned them alive, drowned them, stabbed them, gave them poison, and done many other horrid things to kill. He really was no better than them.

"You know what is justice, Nathaniel? The court system. The judges. The juries. They protect people, and they maintain order," his mother said. "If you had found something out, you should have just told the authorities. They would have been able to solve everything."

"But, they can't do anything for the people that the guilty have killed! They can't bring people to life, they can't give people back their innocence, and they can't save everyone!" Nathaniel retorted.

Nathaniel thought about how the police had neglected to free them from his father's torment. That always gave him a sour feeling when he thought of the authorities, and he presumed that his mother couldn't trust them, as well.

He was wrong.

His mother sneered at him.

"Neither can you."

His mother's quiet words shattered Nathaniel. All of the arguments and retorts on his tongue were crushed into dust, and he fell to the floor on his knees.

He really couldn't save everyone. For there to be a murderer, people needed to be killed. For someone to become a rapist, people would have to be raped. For every criminal, people needed to be hurt before anybody could do anything about it.

It was an awful thought, and when Nathaniel voiced it, his mother's eyes turned downwards as well. His mother's shoulders slumped, and she joined him on the floor.

Nathaniel's mother pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back, as tightly as he could. Nathaniel felt his eyes water, but he sniffed and refused to cry on his mother's shoulders.