Chapter 8

We waited through some somber hours until eleven o’clock, when Justine’s trial, a farce of justice, was set to begin. My family and I, required to be witnesses, made our way to the courtroom, a journey during which I felt the acute pain of knowing my secret inventions might lead to the death of two people: one, a joyful innocent child, and the other, Justine, wrongly accused and facing an unjust death. Despite her virtues and the bright future she could have had, she stood on trial because of my actions. I wished I could claim the guilt, but my absence during the crime and the fantastical nature of my confession would only have branded me insane, doing nothing to save her.

Justine maintained her composure, her usual charm heightened by the solemnity of the situation, making her seem even more beautiful. Despite the heavy accusations and the crowd's judgment, she seemed calm, although it was clear this tranquility was forced. Upon entering, she quickly spotted us; her momentary tearful glance suggested her innocence without words.

As the trial progressed, the charges laid against her were supported by peculiar circumstances and her unexplainable actions on the night of the murder. Despite her solid alibi of being at her aunt's house, the discovery of a locket with my mother’s picture in her possession, which she couldn’t explain, seemed to seal her fate in the eyes of the court.

When Justine defended herself, she did so with a voice that, despite fluctuating with emotion, clearly communicated her innocence. She explained her whereabouts on the night of the murder and her inability to account for the damning piece of evidence found on her. Yet, she maintained her innocence, supported only by the character she had always shown.

Elizabeth, unable to stay silent, spoke on Justine’s behalf, recounting her kindness, her bond with our family, and particularly with the murdered child, William. Her words moved the crowd but did nothing to sway their belief in Justine’s guilt, a reflection of the grave injustice of the situation.

Throughout the trial, my own agony was unbearable, knowing the truth of the monster I created and its role in this tragedy. My inner turmoil was such that I had to leave the courtroom, unable to bear the weight of my conscience.

In the morning, I found that Justine had been condemned, a verdict that filled me with a despair far beyond what words can convey. Elizabeth's reaction to Justine's alleged confession only added to the heavy burden of guilt and sorrow I carried.

Despite the anguish it caused me, I accompanied Elizabeth to visit Justine in her cell. There, Justine, maintaining her innocence, confessed to lying about her guilt in hopes of absolution, a decision she deeply regretted. Her words, though despairing, were of a person resigned to her fate, seeking peace in the acceptance of her unjust punishment.

As I listened, hidden by shadows, I was consumed by a despair that Justine, facing death, could not comprehend. The knowledge that I was the true cause of such suffering was a torment like no other.

Justine’s final moments were spent in a state of forced cheerfulness, trying to offer comfort to Elizabeth and me despite the horror of her situation. Her execution the next day was a grave injustice, leaving an indelible mark of grief and guilt on my soul. Elizabeth's eloquence in court could not save Justine, and I was left with the bitter realization that my own silence and the monstrous deeds of my creation had led to her undeserved fate.

In the aftermath, I was tormented by the profound grief of my loved ones, knowing that I was to blame. The death of Justine was only the beginning of the suffering my actions would bring upon those I cared for, a realization that filled me with an unbearable sense of dread and remorse.