Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Judge Jury & Executioner by S.A. Bargsley Judge Jury & Executioner by S.A. Bargsley. Once upon a time we were privileged to have barristers and lawyers like Justice M.R Kayani, Justice A.R Cornelius, Justice Dorab Patel and Mohammed Ali Jinnah- men who were the very embodiment of brilliance, hard work and gravitas. They were circumspect in their personal as well as public dealings and were a credit to the nation. Now our icons of the past must be turning in their graves at the unsightly spectacle of furious lawyers attacking and ransacking Judge Pervez Ali Shah’s courtroom in Rawalpindi because of their opposition to the death penalty handed down to Salman Taseer’s assassin Mumtaz Qadri. Aside from the religious sentiments being provoked of such ‘Aashiq e Rasool’ (lovers of the Prophet) amongst the legal fraternity, this situation begs the question: if lawyers themselves do not respect judicial verdicts, then who will? Are they not bound by the tenets of their profession to pay heed to court decisions? Surely, discipline and dignity are the two essential pillars upholding a major state institution like the judiciary. Far from being censured and suspended for their ridiculous behaviour, the District Bar Association has asked for Judge Pervez Ali Shah’s transfer because “it can create a law and order situation.” Lawyer Farooq Sulehria has proclaimed that lawyers would boycott Shah’s court because of the “unacceptable” sentencing. Now this is mind boggling stuff. Lawyers are refusing to accept a judicial verdict because it collides with their personal religious beliefs. How then can they profess to be custodians of justice and the epitome of neutrality and objectivity? Why is the Bar Association kowtowing to such obnoxious behaviour? Are they too lily-liver’d to rein in frenzied members, or do they also believe in their “cause?” Based on TV interviews and statements, it has been established time and again that Salman Taseer did not say anything against the Prophet (pbuh), but in fact he said he respected the Prophet like all Muslims. Taseer expressed support for blasphemy convict Asiya Bibi and opposed the implementation of the blasphemy law since the majority of the cases so far have been motivated by enmity. Hence, Mumtaz Qadri’s justification of blasphemy for murdering the late governor in cold blood does not stand in court. How low lawyers can stoop to grind their own axes was visible during the case when Salman Taseer was subjected to a disgraceful character assassination because the case for the defence was so weak. What do a man’s marriages or lifestyle have to do with his murder? Naturally, members of religious parties have been hailing Qadri as their hero at massive rallies, because they are indoctrinated, immune to logic and after all this is their bread and butter. But since when have lawyers joined these militants who have blood in their eyes and froth on their lips? In retrospect, there are bittersweet memories of the Lawyers Movement which galvanised Pakistan in 2009. These very same lawyers and their Chief Justice garnered support from almost all Pakistanis because people applauded the courage of one man to stand up to a system in front of which so many have caved in. Lawyers were garlanded and cheered as they marched for justice through the sweltering heat. When the Chief Justice was restored, there were celebrations galore and an overwhelming camaraderie brought on by “peoples’ power”. How ironic then that today when another brave man has stood up for truth and justice, he has been hounded out of office by his very own colleagues. Justice Pervez Ali Shah saw the frenzy of the religious right every day during the closed door hearing in the high security Adiyala prison as trucks of supporters shouted full throated slogans and embraced Qadri. The judge knew there would be hell to pay if he did not release Qadri. Yet he upheld the dignity of his office by giving the right verdict: guilty as charged. How ironic then that instead of supporting their valiant colleague, lawyers are showering rose petals on Qadri and kicking apart Shah’s courtroom. It beggars the mind that things in Pakistan have come to such a sorry pass. Increasingly, it seems that it is no longer a country for sane men. Even the cleric who led Salman Taseer’s funeral prayers has been forced to flee the country after constant threats to his life. Taseer’s son, Shahbaz, who appeared in court for the prosecution, has been missing for more than a month and there are reports of his release being sought in exchange for freedom for Qadri. Who then can blame the Taseer family for their guarded silence after the guilty verdict? When the death penalty was handed down in the Sialkot lynching case, it seemed like a ray of light on the dark horizon and justice for the bereaved family of Muneeb and Mughees. One was jolted back to grim reality when the main culprit, SHO Rana Ilyas, who was filmed during the lynching, was given bail when he filed an appeal with the Lahore High Court. One may well ask whither justice then for the aggrieved in Pakistan? Another puzzling question is why do we express so much concern about the rights of Muslims in other countries, be it Palestine, Syria, Bahrain, Kashmir or India? How well are we treating our fellow Muslims in Pakistan? All one needs to ostracise, maim or kill another here is to have him or her declared an Ahmadi or a blasphemer or a member of a religious minority.. take your pick.. and self appointed standard bearers of Islam pop up like magic, wielding axes, guns and batons and hurling abuses. This vile madness is consuming us all and making us a stranger to one another. Our diversity should be our strength, not our weakness. To add to the maelstrom of disease, natural disaster, corruption and inertia devouring Pakistan, one can add that justice has also become a commodity to be bartered and many of it’s practitioners are truly a disgrace to the noble profession. To have dispensers of justice applauding murderers is truly the stuff of nightmares. Maheen Usmani is a freelance journalist. She has reported on varied subjects, ranging from socio-political issues to sports, travel, culture and counter terrorism. Judge, Jury & Executioner IIIPA Ironfire Brewing Company. Protips: Explain why you're giving this rating. Your review must discuss the beer's attributes (look, smell, taste, feel) and your overall impression in order to indicate that you have legitimately tried the beer. Nonconstructive reviews may be removed without notice and action may be taken on your account. Help Us Be Awesome. 4.12 /5 rDev +2.5% look: 4.25 | smell: 4 | taste: 4.25 | feel: 4 | overall: 4. 4 oz taster at The Outpost (Ironfire’s tasting room in Old Town Temecula). Clear golden yellow pour with short lived white head. Aroma of pine resin, slightly floral, a bit of grapefruit. The taste is where the action is - pine, resinous, a bit of grapefruit - less of the floral notes of the aroma - remarkably not excessively boozy ( but not pretending to be a lightweight either) - bitterness actually dominates the sweetness here. Medium full mouthfeel but frankly the 11.2% is well hidden - lingering sticky resinous bitterness. Very enjoyable. dpgoblejr from New Hampshire. 4.9 /5 rDev +21.9% look: 4.75 | smell: 4.75 | taste: 5 | feel: 4.75 | overall: 5. Light golden straw color with an off white head that retreats and some spotty lacing too. Aroma of citrus and pine and something else that is kind of musty. The taste is predominately pine resin but the citrus makes its self known, but barely. Pretty clean, nice bodied triple IPA with just the perfect amount of bitterness on the palate. Overall, I would say that I was pleasantly surprised and really enjoyed this quite a bit! mactrail from Washington. 3.81 /5 rDev -5.2% look: 3.75 | smell: 4 | taste: 3.75 | feel: 3.75 | overall: 3.75. The brewery blurb says this is made with "seven high alpha hops from three continents." It seems to have one intense, but clean hop note-- a fruity melon taste with honeysuckle nose. Clean flavor, and moderate bitterness. Amberish orange in the Delirium Tremens snifter with bubbles streaming. A little resiny at the finish. Overall, a fruit juice bomb that is really quite sippable. From the 22 oz bottle purchased at Baron's Market in San Diego. 5 /5 rDev +24.4% look: 5 | smell: 5 | taste: 5 | feel: 5 | overall: 5. This one packs a delicious punch! A very nice strong IPA, one of the best from Ironfire. You'll be feeling good after this one. All killer no filler! BDeibs from Colorado. 3.96 /5 rDev -1.5% look: 3.75 | smell: 4 | taste: 4 | feel: 3.75 | overall: 4. Pours a golden yellow and has a nice hop aroma. There is a strong presence of hops in the taste and a good deal of bitterness as well. Nonetheless it is still fairly smooth going down with a. But that lingers for a while in the mouth. GRG1313 from California. 3.76 /5 rDev -6.5% look: 3.5 | smell: 3.75 | taste: 3.75 | feel: 4 | overall: 3.75. Pours a clear yellow gold with a very fast fading white head. Nose is mild lemon and citrus with nice amount of pine. Not bad. Mouthfeel is medium carb and full bodied. Flavor profile is thick cooked honey and big piney hops with cooked sweet fruit. Not as appealing as it sounds but decent. Big beer! This is one of the few I'd serve more towards the cooler temp. gregb13 from California. 4.03 /5 rDev +0.2% look: 4 | smell: 4 | taste: 4 | feel: 4.25 | overall: 4. Very smooth, creamy and drinkable for the 11.2% ABV. Nice IIIPA flavors all around, reminiscent of others such as RuinTen and Maharaja. Plenty of oniony/garlic dankness to go around. Very nice. First one from this brewery and I can't wait to try others! Recommended. UCLABrewN84 from California. 3.71 /5 rDev -7.7% look: 3.5 | smell: 3.75 | taste: 3.75 | feel: 3.5 | overall: 3.75. Pours a murky honey orange with a foamy tan head that settles to a partial film on top of the beer. Thing rings of lace line the glass on the drink down. Smell is of citrus zest, grapefruit juice, earth, onion, garlic, and herball hop aromas. Taste is much the same with onion, garlic, citrus zest, grapefruit juice, earth, and herbal hop flavors on the finish. There is a medium amount of hop bitterness and an alcohol kick on the palate with each sip. This beer has a lower level of carbonation with a slightly crisp and sticky mouthfeel. Overall, this is a pretty good beer with an emphasis on onion, garlic, and herbal hop qualities and a noteworthy booziness with each sip. Serving type: bottle. IGOTASIXPACK from California. 4.31 /5 rDev +7.2% look: 4.5 | smell: 4 | taste: 4.75 | feel: 3.25 | overall: 4.25. 3rd time I've had it all out of a 22oz. Buy it. $7.99 22oz 11.2%. Clean pour. Clear dark yellow. Floral and big making it sweet with a nice bite. I'm not an IPA lover. But this one makes me appreciate the hops. Great job iron fire! I drank it all myself. 22oz. I'm gonna ride my bike around the block at midnight wooo! ryannaman from California. 5 /5 rDev +24.4% look: 5 | smell: 5 | taste: 5 | feel: 5 | overall: 5. Impressive, Triple IPAs are not typically what I seek out because most tend to be unbalanced and don't have the same hop flavor and aroma that most stellar breweries bring to the table with their doubles. Judge is an extremely balanced triple IPA! ! Kelmcl from California. Draft at local craft beer spot. Light golden in color with little head. Floral notes with alcohol presence in nose. Citrus tones. Very drinkable for an iiipa. As expected, has a hop forward flavor and an alcohol finish. Surprisingly malty for an IIPA, but certainly strong enough to suit the class of beer. Alcohol is the main aftertaste but still drinkable. Brolo75 from California. Serving: 22 ounce bomber poured into a Belgian tulip glass. Appearance: Pours a golden orange color with tons of tiny bubbles in the head, the head is white, disappears quickly, lots of lacing on the glass as I enjoy this brew. Aroma: Big citrus on the nose, not getting any alcohol for an 11% beer, lovely aroma, I would say this is one of the best smelling IPAs I have ever smelled, great aroma. Taste: Just like the nose, big citrus flavors, some bitterness, slight sweet malts on the backend, I am getting no alcohol burn at all. Very smooth flavor. Mouthfeel: Medium mouthfeel, dry finish on the palate, nothing impressive with this, not a juicy IPA. Overall: This beer is really good, it's a triple IPA and I am not getting an overwhelming bitterness or alcohol on the flavor. My only beef with this beer is that once it warms up, it loses a lot of the citrus aromas and flavors, it got flat later on. One caveat is that this is my first IIIPA, so I really don't know what to expect. I have tried a few IIPAs and I have found them to be sweet and malty. I didn't get any sweet and malty favors from this beer. It's worth a try. Judge, Jury, & Executioner. She's a lawyer accused of a murder she did commit. She stands ready to accept her fate, even though her victim was a murderer. A second chance appears. Become more than a lawyer. Be one who judges and punishes the guilty. Could she look herself in the mirror after meting out justice? She's about to find out. Rivka heads to space to be the Judge, Jury, & Executioner. Criminals have nowhere to go. You have been judged. Judge, Jury, & Executioner is a stand-alone series in the Kurtherian Gambit Universe. No previous books need to be heard. Just lock in your seat- belt, grab your favorite drink, and be ready for your socks to be blown off. Please note: This book contains cursing. Perhaps humorous cursing, but cursing nevertheless. If this offends you, perhaps this book isn't for you. The Walking Dead : “Judge, Jury, Executioner” You could could make a YouTube clip montage of torture scenes from modern genre shows—score it to “Hurts So Good” by John Mellencamp, maybe—because every series has to have at least one scene where the good guys beat the crap out a captive for information, and then some of them feel bad about it. It’s a trope that’s so thoroughly a part of the landscape that I wasn’t surprised when “Judge, Jury, Executioner” opened with Daryl beating the crap out of Randall and demanding answers. I wasn’t even that shocked when Daryl used his knife on Randall’s leg wound to really put the screws to the kid. Of course this would happen eventually on a show like The Walking Dead , and of course there’d be some soul-searching afterwards, although almost all of it was done by Dale. It’s so predictable that there’s little power to it. Stories don’t need to surprise us to be effective, but they do need to find some unexpected or distinctive approach to familiar material. I cringed when Daryl stuck the tip of his knife in Randall’s wound, because I’m human, and I’m wired to respond to that kind of violence. ( TWD is always good for a squirm or two.) But the conversations about what this meant for his character, or what the willingness to use torture as a tool meant for the group as a whole, didn’t have much weight behind them. Like much of this episode, it was inevitable; not in a “we’re doomed because this is a slow moving tragedy” way, but in a “we’re flailing for drama because we haven’t effectively established these characters, so let’s go down the checklist” way. “Judge, Jury, Executioner” continues the show’s post-winter break trend of rebuilding, and while there’s still too much talk and not enough tension, it’s promising how much more each episode has become focused on delivering distinct, beginning-middle-end stories. Last week , we had Rick and Shane fighting, and Beth’s suicide attempt. This week, it’s Dale’s attempts to save Randall’s life, and Carl’s journey into the heart of dumbness. Impressively, unlike last week, these two stories actually come together by the end, and they do so in way that, I’ll admit, I didn’t see coming at all. This may be a drawback of having read the comics. Some twists don’t surprise me (ha-ha, I knew Lori was pregnant!), but I’m also trained to certain expectations, which means I may ignore warning signs if they don’t fit in with what I assume will happen next. I had no idea Dale would die. I assumed he was “safe,” or at least as safe as anyone on this show can be. Then he went wandering off at night, despondent over what he view as the group’s loss of humanity, and Carl’s zombie attacked him and gutted him. It’s a shocking scene, partially for its straight-forward gore, and partially for the astonished, uncomprehending expression on Dale’s face. Up until the end, “Judge, Jury, Executioner” had been the usual mix of good ideas and bad presentation, some strong spots, a lot of “Well, that could’ve worked,” but this, right here, is the kind of sequence the show needs. There’s too little sense of danger right now. The debate over whether or not Rick should kill Randall makes sense. Both sides had a rational, understandable position. On the one hand, you have the pro-death folks, who argue that they can’t keep Randall around indefinitely because they can’t ever trust him, and this is a world where you want as few potential distractions as possible. They can’t let Randall go, either, since he presumably knows the way back to the farm. (Although this argument is more problematic. Last week, Randall mentioned he knew Maggie, but this week, no one questions him on it. Did I miss something?) On the other hand, you have Dale, pointing out that straight up killing someone with no trial and no reason beyond “It makes life easier for us” doesn’t bode well for the group’s ability to retain any illusion of civilization. Theoretically, this is not a bad discussion to center an episode on. It’s going to be one of the show’s major themes for the entirety of its run, at least until the aliens show up (psych), and Dale has been pushing this argument for a while now. It’s his last episode, which means it’s time for him to get more screentime than usual, and he can spend all of that bugging his eyes out and shouting, “Shane is the Devil!” Plus, it gives the episode more structure, and that’s always something to be appreciated on The Walking Dead . After Rick announces Randall’s impending date with oblivion, Dale goes on a quest to convince everyone in the group that the kid should be spared. He visits Andrea, Daryl, Shane, and Hershel, and the pre-gutting climax of the episode is a big argument in Hershel’s house over what to do next. It’s all talk, sure, but it’s talk driven by a legitimately fascinating dramatic concern: When does it become justifiable to take a life? Under extreme circumstances, how far can you go to protect your own, and still be able to sleep at night? Some of this works; some of it doesn’t. Jeffrey DeMunn acts the hell out of what he’s given, but his performance, like most performances on the show, ranges from convincingly distraught to bug-eyed cartoon, often within minutes. He’s more consistent in “Judge, Jury, Executioner” than he’s been in the past, but I don’t think I’m going to miss him. There was a time when Dale was my favorite character on the show. He was reasonable, he had a reason for doing what he did beyond “don’t get eaten,” and DeMunn is a fine character actor. But over the course of this season, he’s gotten sucked into the vortex of shallowness that defines seemingly everyone else on the show. His plea for sanity and common decency should’ve been powerful, and at times it was, but that was more the actor than the writing. The entire conversation, the issue which drove most of the episode, was weirdly arbitrary. Intellectually, it’s easy to understand what was a stake; emotionally, apart from Dale’s increasingly desperate pleas, and Randall’s very definite conviction that he didn’t want to die, there was nothing there. The failure here is one of threat. In order for this episode’s major issue to matter, we need to feel like Rick and the others are in real danger. There are no stakes here, apart from poor Randall’s continued breathing. Yes, we know he came from a group, and yes, that group is almost certainly going to pose a problem for our ensemble down the road (not a spoiler; it’s just, you don’t introduce a threat this major on a show so desperately in need of threats and then forget about it), but once everyone is back on Hershel’s farm, Randall’s group becomes more of a theoretical concern than a practical one. Admittedly, this is part of the point. Executing Randall shouldn’t be an easy answer, so there should be some question as to whether or not he represents an actual danger. But the disconnect here between the group’s intentions and the reality of their situation is so stark that it’s difficult to build up much dramatic momentum. Dale isn’t fighting a lost cause against a stark and painful new reality. He’s arguing with a bunch of unpleasant, sour morons that they shouldn’t shoot someone because that someone makes their lives a little more complicated. If The Walking Dead was doing this on purpose, if it was some sort of dark satire about some idiots in a zombie wasteland, I’d accept this. But we’re supposed to like these people. When Daryl says the group is broken, and when Dale ultimately agrees with him, we’re supposed to care. But the show has yet to give us much reason, and without a sense of impending doom, without some major Big Bad type threat out there pushing these people to tougher and tougher decisions, the tension continues to fall slack. We get thrilling, powerful sequences, but nothing builds on anything else. The show’s moment’s of quality exist in isolation, and that’s not good. At least Carl’s arc holds together. The Walking Dead often works best when people aren’t talking, and Carl’s surly, confused effort to figure out his place in the world had more resonance for me than Dale’s increasingly pointless attempts at debate. Carl mouths off to Carol (who suddenly, randomly, decides to take offense) (come to think, “suddenly, randomly” could be a description of three-quarters of the behavior on the show), hangs out with Randall, finds a gun, and goes off into the woods to taunt a zombie who got stuck in some mud. Carl’s in a tough spot. With Sophia gone, he’s the only child left in the group, which means he’s constantly getting in other people’s way, and he’s old enough to be on his own, which means he can do incredibly stupid things like throw rocks at dead people. In the end, Rick isn’t able to kill Randall because Carl comes across the execution and apparently wants to see his dad pull the trigger. So Carl isn’t all straight in the head right now, and finding out that the zombie he helped free is the one who killed Dale isn’t going to make him sleep any easier. Using Carl to both resolve the episode’s plot, and making him semi-responsible for Dale’s death, has a satisfying neatness, and serves as a reminder that for all their talk, Rick and the group have no idea what impact their choices will make. With the show’s most vocal advocate for sanity gone, making the right choice is going to be a lot harder. Archive of Our Own beta. Nobody. No one at all. They all look away from her, and refuse to stand by her side. So *she's* the bully, huh? Chapter Text. I ended up sleeping in later than I wanted to last night, but it’s my fault that I stayed up too late in the first place. I spent most of the night cleaning the bakery downstairs for my parents, Tikki at my side telling me stories from the past. I was so caught up in her stories that I forgot the time. I wasn’t too offended though, because I ended up catching my parents when they got back. They hosted the catering for a huge diplomatic event last night. They spent months preparing the order, and it was nice to know their hard work had paid off. It wasn’t too long ago that the bakery was struggling for customers. This order had boosted their busy hours, and everything started to get back on track. As my parents went to bed, I locked up the shop one last time before I went up. I remember that when I was a kid, running around in the shop as Mama and Papa baked, the bakery was just as welcoming then as it is now. I liked pretending that I was the cashier when it was really my mom that handled the transactions. When I was seven, I had started doing the decorations for the windows. These are fond memories for me, and I know my parents treasure those moments as well. Already a bit late and sleepy, I felt a small sense that something was already wrong before I was even near my classroom. Sure enough, I saw a herd of my classmates surrounding Lila’s table. I simply sat down and decided to ignore it. Usually, that meant it was Lila telling a tale of woe or victory. But I faltered about halfway to my seat into a stop when I heard the diplomatic event being mentioned. The very same event that my parents worked especially hard on. "Oh yeah, it was my parents who did the catering. It went so well- mom and dad are excellent bakers. They even won several awards when we lived in Germany." It sounded like a hissing teapot when she spoke, rising higher and higher into a shrill, ugly shriek. On the brink of disaster. At least, in my opinion, her voice sounded like nails on styrofoam. "Are you serious?" I glare at Lila’s general area from across the room, already feeling a hot fire burn in my chest. "My parents did the catering for the Franco event." The class turned to me, parting away from each other and making a path, where I could now see Lila. She narrowed her eyes at me in that calculating way she does and suddenly gasped, feigning surprise. "Marinette, you know it's a curse to take credit for another baker's event! Your mom and dad could get cursed!" "Oh shut up, you snake.” I take a step closer. “Don't take credit for my parent's work. They spent months getting that order perfect, and I'm not letting you take that credit." I found myself getting closer and closer to her, fuming mad. “Why do you always feel the need to butt into other people’s achievements?” And then, what do I happen to hear, but a familiar voice. "Mari, girl, you need to apologize. For real this time." I look at Alya. Her arms are crossed, a disappointed look sits on her face. I can’t believe my eyes. Why in the world would she. Why is she looking at me like that? "I know… I know you don't like Lila, but really? Taking credit? Her parents are esteemed bakers-” "And mine aren't?" I hear my voice crack, hurt. Where was she getting this from? "Lila's parents are diplomats. Not professional bakers." I stare Alya down. Alya moves to sit next to Lila, who is faking shock at Alya's reaction. "Your parents are good, but she just handed out the leftover sweets her parents made for the event. They were incredible." Alya points to empty white plates stacked at the end of the table. "Really, I think you're taking this rivalry of yours with Lila a little too far." I take a step back from everyone. Rose touched my arm, but when I jerked away from her, her hand found its way to Juleka’s. How could she say something like that? After everything, my parents did to make that event a success, after all the hard work- after hours of them sitting in the kitchen doing the math and fitting into the budget, plus making the treats? My parents sometimes gave up valuable work time to make pastries for the class. They did it often, even, and always made a show to come to school events to hand out food. I clench my jaw, staring at the ground with hot tears. I force myself not to cry out of anger, blinking the tears furiously back into my eyes. I feel my nails dig into my fist so hard that I’ll probably have indents from them written into my palm. "I can't believe you," I say, seething mad. "I really can't believe that you- Ugh! You think so highly of heroes- when you act like such a villain sidekick sometimes!” I yell, slamming my fist onto the table. Rose and Juleka back away, startled. "Me? I can't believe you!" Alya stands up. Max moves out of her way to hide behind Kim, other class members tensing. She leans to get closer to my face. "You bash on Lila for lying when she isn't, but everyone can always tell when you are! You run late for everything and make excuses as if it'll make things better! Now, you’re just trying to make Lila look like a bad guy! How can you call yourself a friend? I want you to apologize to Lila, Mari!” "She doesn't need to, Alya, really-" Lila put on her fake sweet voice, and I grit my teeth. "Please, we can all just let it go, right? I don't want you two to argue, you're such good friends-" "I'm not gonna be friends with a bully," Alya said. I looked at her, hurt blossoming in my chest. I bite down on my cheek, tears springing into my eyes. I look around for anyone, just anyone, who believes me, but I’m met with eyes turned to the floor, people looking at their hands. Some look at me with contempt, angry. Reminds me of the last time Lila lied, and not a single one stood up for me. How they all stood there and let me get expelled. Not a single one thought about my character, not one doubted the possibility that I’d steal and hurt someone. “You’re all…” My voice trembles. “You’re all such shitty friends!” I turn on my heel and run. My feet are headed to the bathroom, listening to my head that wants to be alone. I’m blinded by tears enough that I can’t see in front of me, and manage to slam right into someone, stumbling back, a sob falling out of me. “Dudette, are you alright?” I don't react to Adrien or Nino’s voice, I just keep running away. I hear Adrien’s words in my head too, just as clear as Alya's. Just as clear as Lila’s. “As long as you and I know the truth, does it really matter?” Someone grabs my arm, but I pull away from them. My cheeks feel raw when I rub away more tears. I hear Adrien huffing for air, he must have run to catch up with me. "Marinette- what's wrong?" He sounds concerned, worried. But I look anywhere but at him, still trying to stop the tears. "You-You're wrong." I spat, backing away from him. My own voice sounds heavy with poison. I feel wrong, and so terrible. But I can’t stop myself. Adrien, as sweet as he is, tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I move away from him. Possibly for the first time ever. "Lies do hurt people. All the- all the time. You don’t get that though, do you? Your first friend was Chloe , who always hurts people. You’re not used to school, which is full of nasty, rotting people. You don’t even get it at all. You’re Mr. Perfect to them, without even having to try!" I’ve never raised my voice at Adrien, never thought about yelling at him. But I’ve never been this angry. I turn and run again, faster this time. Fast enough for him to not catch me. Not fast enough to rid me of their voices, spinning around in my head like a thrumming drone. I slam into the bathroom as another girl exists. I fumble as I lock it behind me. My hands fly to my arms, feeling like my skin is on fire. I slide down into one corner, feeling like I might be sick. I just yelled at my friends, and yelled at Adrien, and ran away from class. Lila taking credit for my parent’s hard work, Alya calling me a bully. No one taking my side. As if I don't try so hard, every day, to help everyone. I'm always putting myself on the line for them, always trying to defend them. I keep their schedules more on track than my own, I put my schoolwork on the line to be the perfect class rep, I lose sleep over making their ideas come to life, I forget homework in order to make sets and props for their stupid band. I’m always trying to be the best friend to them that I can possibly be. I learned that from being Ladybug. To always keep trying, no matter what, as long as it's helping someone. A tiny voice peeks out from my bag. "Marinette, I'm so sorry." Tikki fluttered out of my purse, nestling herself into my neck. "I'm sorry this happened." A tear rolls down my face as I cup her gently in my hands. "I-I just wanted to-to protect my parents- they- they worked so hard for tha-that event." I sobbed, as Tikki hugs my finger as hard as she could. "I'm always… I’m always trying to keep them safe- everyone. I didn't think- I didn't think that she'd turn on me like that. She-she knows my parents are bakers? Why couldn’t she have my back? Lila- Lila can't stop lying, she’s trying to hurt my parents’ business, and my friends really are turning against me- why-why can't they see that they don't- they don't get to say what I'm worth ?" I rub at my tears angrily. "I do so much for them, I don't get to decide anything to help myself because it could hurt them. And they accuse me- me of lying and being-being-being a. a bully ? "And Adrien- he really thinks she can't hurt anyone. She is hurting them, and I can't stop it." I sob again, rubbing at my face so harshly that it stings. "You are too right, Bourreau." I hadn’t even noticed that Tikki had left me during my rant. This dark voice reverberates in my head, and I can't shake the feeling that he understands all my pain. All the hurt. He knows, This voice understands. I shake my head violently, grabbing at my earrings. I can’t let this happen! I spot my purse in the other corner, where Tikki must have taken it to hide. I look to my wrist, where the lucky charm Adrien gave me was now stained an inky black. "Get-get out of my head." I scratch at my head as if it'll help. "I don't want your help!" A knock at the bathroom door. "Marinette? Can you tell me what's wrong? Maybe we can fix it together." Adrien's voice is muffled by the door. I panic. If I get turned, then he'll get hurt. "Adrien go away!" I yell, standing up. "Marinette please don't lock me out." "He won't understand, Bourreau. Not like I do." His voice echoes in my head. This feeling is the equivalent of being turned around underwater by the waves. From all sides, my head feels compressed and heavy. Breathing is becoming harder. I’m drowning in this. I need to swim up. "You don't understand anything!” I slap at my head. “I don't want your stupid help, okay!?" The mirror in front of me reflects the familiar purple butterfly over my face. It casts its eerie light onto my face. The bathroom feels darker and more unforgiving than it had before. I feel like someone is watching me from all sides. A predator is waiting in the dark. "Get out of my head!" My throat feels scratchy. "Marinette. " Adrien’s voice is muffled. "Your friends have betrayed you.” Everything is blurry besides the mirror. This darkness around me feels heavy. “They don't understand that you just want to help them. Keep them safe, and happy. But all they do in return is call you a bully. They don’t know what a bully is, otherwise they’d know that it’s them. You are right to feel so hurt.” For some reason, those words sounded true. I fall to my knees. "Let me help you, Bourreau. I am Hawkmoth. Together, we can make them understand what a true bully is." His words sink inside my head. I feel so tired, and he was… he was right. He could help. He knows how to make them understand. They won’t listen to me. "All I need in return are Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculous. And then, you can always be the judge, the persecutor. And no one else can tell you a lie." "Marinette- Mari, open the door!" Adrien sounded panicked. But he also sounded distant, like his words meant nothing to me.