The shabby brick walls towered above the us, exuding a sense of impoverished grandeur that turned the air stale. She turned slowly and stumbled down the street, the growing mist swirling and enveloping her rapidly. As she hurried away, I could see John's anger slowly being reducing away by means of hot tears trickling down his cheek. His lip quivered while he opened his mouth to utter something, but it was quite clear he didn't know quite what to say. Just as it seemed he found his breath, she disappeared into the night. A shot rang out; John started in horror and the air was thick with tension. Nothing could compare to the moments that followed.


Those moments turned into seconds, and the seconds into minutes and still...no Julia.


Uneasily we watched the end of the alleyway, hoping against hope that Julia's soiled blond hair would appear glorious out of the powerful darkness. 'No,' John whispered hoarsely. 'No, no...' He broke off. His following words were choked with tears and I couldn't understand them. My friend seemed immovable, his eyes transfixed on the spot he had last seen her.


As the minutes passed, John and I struggled to set our breath free, having been holding it hostage inside of us. John staggered forward and I followed, dreading the scene to appear before us. My pounding heart stopped short when I emerged from a patch of mist and spotted John. He stood motionless by a street corner, his face depicting pain and his shoulders drooped. I felt a sickening feeling swell up inside of me and threaten to emerge in the form of sobs. The space between us diminished as I made my way over to him and the shape at his feet. John himself was overcome, covering his face with his hands and placing himself dejectedly on the broken curb. Sadly, the shape was as I feared; it was the body of his mentor, Julia. The middle-aged woman's long blond hair was tossed this way and that, all surrounding her face in a disheveled frame. Her pale hands rested on her ripped blouse, which was stained with blood. A flickering street lamp's glow was caught and reflected off of a necklace she wore: a golden cross studded with small sparkling stones. The sight was a dismal one, to be sure, and thrust sadness and weariness into my heart.



I sat down next to John and wrapped my arms compassionately around him. 'It's all my fault,' he sobbed, pushing his head down further into his folded arms. I didn't know what to say; I struggled for a moment and made my quiet reply. 'Of course it isn't,' I managed to murmur. 'You didn't shoot that gun. You loved Julia and that's all that matters. Jonathan,' I paused. 'Look at me.' The shaking shoulders gradually eased, and he clasped his hands in a prayer-like grip.


The young man lifted his head with difficulty and turned to me, sending a chill running down my spine as he did so. His icy-blue eyes once illuminated with happiness, gazed into mine with a far-off look in them. His curly, rust-colored hair clung to his face now wet with tears and streaked from his muck-covered hands. He continued to stare into my eyes with a puppy-like innocence and dependance. I gulped and tried to continue in my consolatory speech. But the words came to John first and he whispered, 'You don't understand. I--' he paused to clear his throat. 'My father. He owned a gun shop around the corner, I'd been smuggling them out from under him for years.' John continued. 'Selling them on the streets..I probably put every gun that's on this block out here.' I sat aghast, once again unable to find words. John turned away from me wistfully and stroked the tousled hair of Julia. He sobbed as another tear came rolling down, 'I killed Julia.'