A Story by Prime

Bitter past experiences surely take a toll on you. But, is revenge the best way to deal with them? This is for our PHILO2 class project anyway. We are going to make this into a short film ^_^


            We tried to make this as non-verbal as possible, so expect less dialogues than with what we are used to read. And the characters were not given proper names. They were called using pronouns or familiar common names in order to maintain anonymous identities, but they were shaped/developed distinctly so have fun reading!










Title: How Far Will Your Evil Take You?

Written by: Alan David T. Patani

December 06, 2015

On the perspective of: Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind









Why is the world cruel? Why is life so unfair? Why does time tend to destroy you just when you’re at the edge of getting to the good part?

            Not once, not twice, but many times have I asked myself such questions. Those were just three of the mysteries that escaped the chamber of words behind my lips. And those were just meaningless questions that add weight to my heart. But I needed to get rid of them anyway, to ease me, as the least I can do for myself.

            I am not frail. I have just been through a lot. It pains me to recall, but each time I’m alone, especially in this meadow, I can’t help it. Our small hut used to be in the heart of the woods. And I can still remember fresh memories from here. I have an excellent memory, so I tend to recall almost every tiniest detail no matter how traumatic.

            I came from a messed-up and poor family. We used to live in candlelight and cold wooden floor as bed. But we always managed to eat good food, at most, thrice a day. When I was seven, I used to wake up early in dawn to my mother’s groans and screams. And no, they’re not having sex. They’re fighting.

My father would often go home at about 4AM drunk and he would always hit my mother with killing intent. But when I stepped in between them, he would stop and leave us alone. I never figured out why he does that to my mother, ‘cause when with me, he was the best father there is in this world, though he smells of alcohol.

He used to tell me stories about real people who had to go through grave situations just to ascend themselves from difficult living. He used to tell me of a man who is definitely not Robin Hood, a man who is real, who does crime to bring back home goods for his family. And he also used to bring me dolls, sometimes, despite our situation. I was ignorant back then to at least wonder how he earns the money he uses to quench his vices and buy me dolls.

            I later discovered that my mother was, literally, a b***h. I was five when I figured out why my father always hits her, when I finally saw with my own two eyes the invisible man in the family picture. It happened that fateful evening, when that man crashed into our home, throwing stones at our roof and cat-calling my mother.

            “Get out, you lying b***h!” And my mother would just remain silent inside our hut at the other corner where I would crotch myself upon, she would put her finger before her lips to tell me to keep quiet and I would readily do as she says. But our perpetrator easily tore through the sack we use as our door and when he gets in…

            “You used me! You never told me you had another family!”

            “I had to do it for my child!”

            And he came to me, grabbed me by my hair as I try to fight back. “Let me go!”

            “Let her go!”

            “If she is the reason for your deceit, then I will kill her right here in front of you.”

            “No! No!” And just when the perpetrator gets something from his coat, I managed to bite his hand really hard. And when he swung his bitten hand, he hits the lamp hard. It fell to the floor, the oil spilled, caught fire and it sure spreads fast. My mother quickly took me and we ran through the sack-door, just before it caught fire, outside.

            When we hid behind trees, I asked her, “Mama, who is he?”

            There was silence. And a sound of gunshot coming from a distance.

            We ran again, and we were getting further from our home, and towards the city, when the gunshots became more frequent, until she stopped and fell. Then I saw blood on her back. She tried to stand, but it’s no good. “If you still struggle, I will fire again. This time, it’s the head.”

            “Get away. Find your father and live on.” I didn’t know what triggered it, but I felt a sting on my heart and felt as if something bad was about to happen. I immediately understood what it meant. That everything will change from then on. I held my mother’s hands one last time. She gave me a weak smile. Maybe she was not a b***h after all. And I ran towards the city.

            Later when I’m away, I heard two last gunshots and a tear finally fell from my eyes.


            I get to the city. I didn’t know it would be so busier at evening. Traffic, students crossing, and city lights. Another child walked past me, hitting my shoulder unintentionally and I fell. She looked back and I stared back. I was sure I memorized her face. I then remembered, I was that weak since we hadn’t eaten dinner. So there I was, stuck at the corner, letting time pass me by. I didn’t know where to go, nor know what to do. I looked at those children just waiting for exiting customers outside a fancy fast food chain, asking for leftovers or money. I thought I was lucky not having done what they did. But I would have joined them soon. If my father hadn’t seen me.

            “Why are you here? Where is your mother?”

            “She told me to find you. There was a man with a gun early this evening.”

            “I am asking you, where is she?!”

            “She was shot.” (change in facial expression)

            (moment of silence) “Let us go. It’s dangerous here.” And he took me by the hand.


            We got inside a good apartment and there were four more drunkards.

            “It’s my child. Can we stay here for a while?” And there were howls from his friends.

            “Why? What happened?” (friend*)

He signaled me to go to a room. I did, but I listened by the door. And I heard everything.

“My wife’s ex-husband has lately resurfaced. And he insists on getting her back. But my wife is wise. She wanted to earn extra so she decided to secretly have an affair with him as a means to get close and steal from his wallet. I only knew about this last week, that’s why we always fight before. I am very enraged, thinking he has time for other men despite our pitiful situation. It was too late when I understood, and too late when she realized that she already dragged us in a very dangerous situation. That man was a haciendero and a spoiled one. I’d worked under him before, as a gardener. He was crazy in love with my wife.  But he was impotent, violent, and would go to the extent of killing just to fulfill his desires. I didn’t want to get involved, but I couldn’t care any less. His wife was so nice to all the workers and especially to me that I later fell in love. One time I saw her trying to escape in the midst of the night, and I saw it as a chance. I helped her and we escaped to the mountains. I reassured her with my vast knowledge of plants and animals �" that we will survive. And that night, something happened. That was about eight years ago. We lived in hiding then and kept a low profile. She became a housewife, and I, a mason. When he resurfaced lately, my wife used that chance to gradually ease us from poverty. How he caught her is a mystery, but I’m sure it just happened today. Knowing him, he’d take action rather immediately.”

I was definitely proven wrong about my mother. I wipe my tears and doze off. I experienced reality early in life. But like the fire, I won’t just die as there is enough wind blowing around me.


It was very early dawn when I woke up, and when I get out of bed, I slowly tiptoe just outside my room to see how my father’s doing. And there they were, packing white powders in plastic with pen marks on it. Maybe this is what my father does for a living. Masonry? I didn’t know. I quietly observed. One of their friends seemed to be counting the money. And I was amazed at how much money they have earned, when the most I have held was a twenty-peso bill.

“Go now, while the day is young.” (friend*)

And he went through the door. I got curious and I went slowly to the room and saw that the window is big. I could fit. I looked down and saw that it’s not that high. But I picked a blanket.

I went down through that window and stealthily followed my father’s trail to the city. We used to live in the midst of woods so I was never afraid of the dark. When he arrived at the door of the first house, he used his phone, waited a little while, and the male owner slowly opened the door. I saw a glimpse of the same white things they were packing a while ago in my father’s pocket. He gave some to the man, and the man gave him lots of money that I almost couldn’t believe it. The same happened to the five houses. He was walking again, probably to the next house when I decided to show myself to him…

“Hold it!” And he froze on the ground. “What could you be doing this early? Hands up!”

He raised his hands and a white pack dropped on the ground. The policeman, gun on point, went to him and first picked up the white pack, inspected it at first look and shouted. “Do you know what this is mister?”

“No. It probably fell from above.”

“There have been an increase of drug dealing in this area and we assigned patrols at this very hour because this is the ideal time for dealing secretly. Am I right, mister?”

“Probably.” And before the policeman can react, my father tapped the gun away to the ground near me. And I suddenly remembered my mother. The police pulled out another gun but my father was quick to hold it, and they struggled on the ground.


“What are you doing here? It’s dangerous. Get away!” And a gunshot was heard. On my father’s back, blood flowed and I remember the gunshot wound on my mother’s back as well. I saw two more policemen with guns running towards them. Father froze and I again felt the sting on my heart. I noticed my father was saying something, and it says, ‘RUN.’ Later I thought, is he the Robin Hood-man he used to tell me about?

Tears fell from my eyes as I ran towards his friend’s apartment. I knocked on the door hard and they opened it almost immediately. “How did you get there?”

“Father was gunned by the police.”

“Damn him, he’s caught!”

They let me inside, and they told me to go back to bed. I did, but I sat on the bed thinking what I should do next since I lost both of my parents. Later his friend came to me.

“Kid, I understand it must have been very painful for you, but we, your father’s friends, talked about something…” I looked at him and he looked so frustrated. But something felt off.

“Since your father rarely reach the quota of sales, we decided to use you instead, to fulfill his shortcomings. Are you okay with that?” (straight look)

“He always hesitated because he didn’t want to do something illegal. But we need money, we also have bills to pay.” (pause) “So we decided to use your body for rent for a living.”

He took off his shirt. “And it has to start with us.”

I immediately felt the same sting in my heart, but if I don’t anything, I’d also die like my father and mother did. So I kicked his divine treasure and headed for the window and held on to the blanket as it finally gave up on my weight, fell and cushioned my fall. I ran as tears also ran down my eyes. I didn’t know what to do anymore, nor where to go, so I ran until I reached the city and I noticed the sun was already up. I ran a long way to the street, and a speedy car ran onto me.

As I fell to the ground, I asked myself: Why me? Why is this only happening to me?

            I can’t die yet. As long as my wind blows, I can’t die just yet.

            But everything turns black.


            I woke in a white room, on a white pillow white bed, and under a white blanket. I asked myself: Am I in heaven? I was sure I was not. I know the feeling of being so alive.

            A lady in white entered the room. She was probably a nun.

            “How are you doing? You were very blessed I was the one who drove that car yesterday. I am a slow driver and even slowed down enough just in time so as to not make the hit fatal.”

            I just stared at her. Thank goodness.

            “Where are your parents?” And I remembered them again �" how they died.

            “They’re gone.” (tears) “They just died.” And she hugged me.


            She was a nun, the ‘mother’ of a small orphanage. She decided to take me in. At first she asked me if I needed rehabilitation. But I insisted to finish my studies instead. She was very nice, caring, and a ‘mother’ figure to us orphans.

            Time came when I finally stopped grieving on thoughts of my parents. All I did on their desperate moments was do as they tell me �" to get away. But when I gathered my resolve, I know I had to do something. I have resolved to have a good future. And although it’s dire, I planned for revenge. I desired to exact revenge to my mother’s killer, and my father’s useless horny friends.

In there, I met someone about my age, also an orphan, who became my wind.

            “From now on, I’ll be the wind, and you’ll be the fire. When you’re burning low, I’ll blow you just enough to keep you alive.” I smiled. Life may be worth living after all.

            We were introduced to God together, grew together, finished elementary together, finished high school together, and now here we are dealing with the toughness of college �" the same course. He is my inspiration. And I do hope, that I, too, at least, as his motivation.

            As to be expected in an orphanage, children will come and go. Youngsters were often adopted because they’re cute. And we were old enough that time that we were never adopted. Our relatives also didn’t seem to give a f**k about us. So up until now, we go back home to the orphanage every day. Of all things that matter to me, I value the orphanage most.

            The second semester just started today, and I kinda feel something strange. Like this is going to be a semester like no other.

            My first class is Philosophy of Man. When I get to a comfortable seat, I look around to see how many of my past classmates are still with our block. And I see somebody strange on the edge of a row �" an irregular student. But I have this familiar feeling that I have met her somewhere.

            I remember when I ran to the city alone, there was a child who unintentionally bumped with me. And she’s right before my eyes here and now. I did tell you that I can clearly remember even the tiniest detail, didn’t I? I am sure she is that child. But it’s no big deal. I’m just amused.

It’s a small world after all.



            I am a transferee from a big school. I don’t have bad records. But we just happened to be unable to keep up with the expenses anymore. I had to give up a year of studies and settle to a cheaper school in order to keep my family in place. I’d rather sacrifice than lose somebody.

            Yes, I am afraid to lose somebody �" my father.

            He is currently in a mental institution �" he has been there for ten years or so have passed, but I’m sure he has been the best father there was in this world. He might be strict and a perfectionist, but I am sure that he loved me dearly, as well as my mother.

            My mother used to work abroad and only came back home when I was nine, when she was introduced by my father himself. I don’t know what happened with my mother’s arrival, but after that, my father became even stricter to the point that he almost whacked me when I accidentally spilled the water on the floor one time when I was helping Yaya in cleaning. Then he would harm himself. I even saw the bloody trails of his self-inflicted injury. And the last one was when he beat my mother and when asked why he does that: he’d say “I just miss your mother so much.”

            He turned insane, but I still loved him, as he is my father, and he watched me grew until my mother took over. My mother could also possibly be insane. Maybe because she was traumatized by the kind of welcome my father would give her after many years of not seeing each other. My only confidante is Yaya. She does care for me just like how I imagined an ideal mother would be. I remember her reading me bed time stories before I sleep when I was young. But Yaya could never babysit me forever. I had to grow, especially now that she had acquired an illness �" enlargement of heart.

            Despite all of these problems, I stay calm and composed, just like water. I believe that if I stay this way, things will gradually return to how they were used to be. Because water, just like time, is a natural healer. And I am doing these despite the pain because I love all of them.

            Anyway, I have a younger brother, just one and a half year late of me. He is biologically not my brother, since he was adopted right after he was born. As Yaya said, it’s because my father always wanted a boy to succeed him.

            He’s strong, sturdy, and even taller than me. He is my knight in shining armor. And I consider him as a brother by heart. Despite all the problems that befell our family, just knowing he’s there, everything seems fine and he seems to be shaping me nicely. Just like how the Earth takes form to guide the water. One thing’s a problem though. My brother also wants another boy.

            That maybe one of the reasons our father went insane, when he hinted, but I never blamed him. We should always accept people as they are. Only they and God can change themselves.


            Our Philo class goes well, I just listened to our teacher. Before our next class, I go to the vendo to buy myself a drink to warm myself. I was cooling and looking down at it when I bumped with a girl and spilled some of the coffee on her arm. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

            “Can’t you at least look at your way and be more careful?!” Mean girl. She is just like fire, hot and quick-tempered. I pick a wet tissue from my bag to wipe it for her.

            “Look, I’m so sorry, I’m just �"”

            “Kidding.” And the boy beside her laughs like the wind �" going well with the mood.

            They look sweet, they must be best friends. “Let me wipe that for you.”

            “No thanks, it’s okay. Just let me have that tissue.” And she wipes her arm. “You’re a newbie in our class right? What’s your course? Are we classmates next?”

            I explained myself and found out we are block mates. First two friends for the first day.

            The three of us became close friends after that for many months. We would often eat lunch together, sit together, and be in a group together. Some say a trio is a bad superstition, but old people really love to scare us so I don’t believe so and continued with our friendship.

            Weeks passed and I sure learned a lot from them. I’m a slow learner by the way, but with practice and hard work, I believe I can be just as excellent as them. In the little time that passed, I learned their personalities. She is quick-tempered, very firm and hot in her decisions, yet very witty and very intelligent. She always aces our quizzes, exams and written outputs. She can come up with great ideas almost immediately. While He is definitely like the wind, it seems he has air in his head since he’s a little crazy. He is fairly intelligent, sometimes he’d get low scores, but overall he always scores above average. He is a good regulator of her, like how wind can magnify or control fire. While I can only score above average or just average. Despite our differences, we understand each other well. And I have this gut feeling that meeting them is not just a coincidence.

            One time I asked her about her family, to which she didn’t respond and changed the topic almost immediately. But I got interested and asked him privately instead. And he told me everything, so I finally understood. It must have been hard for her. But it was not obvious of her. I mean, she seems to be raised from a perfect family. Through him, I learned that they were both orphans and they grew together in an orphanage since they were ten.

            “She’s doing great since we were in the orphanage. She studies really hard, and she has certain goals in life that I’m sure she’ll accomplish without fail. No matter what happens, I’ll always be beside her.” And he looks at me. “Just like how I’ll be there for you too.”

            We would study together in the library. We would sing together at the mall karaoke. We would play arcades. And I noticed when we’re together that when he looks at her, there is something. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. It’s something that stirs your insides and makes you smile genuinely when you feel it. And I further confirmed the presence of that something when later on, I would start to notice that he would try to hold her hand and she would tap it away; he would wipe her cheek with his own hanky when she’s got a stain near her lips; he would put his arm around her shoulders sometimes, different from those maniacs who intentionally drops their hand to touch the girl’s b***s so casually. There was definitely something. And it was something unique most of us would hate and at the same time love how it feels. Love.

            Though I hate to admit it, if I found out about it sooner, we would be locked in a love triad. Water freezes with wind. And it’s not good for me, especially if fire is going to be my opposition.

            I introduced them to my brother, and my brother seems to be eyeing him. I don’t know how and why, but I can tell if a person has a special interest with other. After all, my boy also wants a boy. They seem to be getting along well, but my brother really has his ways of quenching his itch. And when we bid goodbye, it seems like my brother doesn’t want to let go of him. I know my brother much more than anyone else, and I can tell that my brother is so interested. I can even see that my brother makes her feel worried. That something may be not one-sided after all.

            Today I just feel very light-hearted and very happy. I don’t know why, but I have a gut feeling something grand is going to happen today. We are just done with our afternoon class, I bid goodbye to my two best friends, and then I ride a jeepney towards home, I sit on the bench, waiting for my brother. His class should be done by now.

            “Manang!” And here he is. “Let’s go.”

            We ride a jeepney towards home. When I arrive, at the door, Yaya seems to be panicking. “My Dears, quick! Look! Look who’s here!”

            I open the door and I was like, “what is it?”

            “How are you, my daughter?”

            That is the voice I have been yearning to hear for ten years. He is finally back.

            “Dad… Dad!” And I can see my brother flush in fear.



            What am I going to do? Of course, I don’t have a face to show my father after what has become of me. Just this day, I was flirting with an airhead, and now I think the flirting must end.

            My father was taken to the mental institution when I was a child, when I was a man. When mom came back, I’m sure I have seen him beating her so bad and then harming himself using sharp blades after.

            I wear a façade �" a fancy one that no one would be able to tell what kind of home I came from. In school, I have lots of friends and I live a happy-go-lucky life �" flirt with boys, be embarrassed, and just act like nothing happens. I’m always the source of a good laugh. Well, I attend the mass, but I think even priests make fun of me. Or maybe I just have a peculiar mouth.

            But back home, I am not what you see in public. I am always trying my best to act manly. Though my mom knows about it, it’s for her, it’s for the best. I remember when she just got back, and father beat her really hard: A day after, we were tasked to bring watercolor sets because we will be painting in an art subject. I don’t know what sparked my interest, but when I get home, in my room, I used the water color to fashion up my face into what I first thought, was an act of beautifying oneself. I’m sure I saw other strange-looking women, some with short hair and some with oddly disproportionate boobies, doing the same to small girls joining competitions.

            But mom caught me then threw my water color away and wiped my face with a damp towel. She was crying. She was beaten again. “If your father beats me out of nothing, then he will beat you even harder for this. This is something. It’s okay as long as he’s not around, but please understand that your father had gone insane so, if you can, try to change it.”

            And after that day, I became another person. I believed the general quote “the more you hide it, the more it shows” since then. No matter how I try, it’s just not going to work.

            I sought out a girl schoolmate thinking once I try to focus my attention her it would change me, but it’s just not going to work. She has yellow teeth, and a foul lump of air coming from inside her mouth �" it’s a major turn down. So after that, I decided to just hide in my closet until my wings are ready. But up until now in the present, I guess I am not.

            Dad has never been cruel to me, but I have seen mom suffer from his hands. And that was more than enough of a warning to me. Who knows what he might do to me if he finds out? When he always desired a real man to succeed him? I’ll try my acting skills if they work. (mano po) “Welcome home, dad. How are you?”

            He messes up my hair just like he used to do before. “Now where’s mom?”

            Despite my fear and guilt, I actually felt happy that our family has been completed again. A perfect Christmas gift.



            She is nice, she is sweet, and she is caring. She does talk a lot, and when I’m with her, I feel a very strong connection I have never felt before.

            The Christmas season gradually starts. Wonderful city lights, cool breeze, and gift-giving.

            In the orphanage, gift-giving is very common and we do it every year.

            “You have something for me, don’t you? If you won’t give me anything then I’ll kill you.” She speaks like a child, but she is not. She is mentally deficit, and has a very strange personality. “It’s Christmas and it’s your obligation to give me the best thing you’ve got or else I’ll gouge your eyes out!”

            She says with intensity and sounds with meaning. If you don’t know how to handle people like her, you’ll die. I was just here for a year when she was brought in with almost the same history as me: Her parents died horrific deaths in front of her, she was raped many times and left for dead until our dear nun took her from the streets. Once, a couple got interested in her, but she chased them away with her sharp pens. And nobody from her relatives came to visit her ever since.

            “Look, dear. I have not yet bought anything. You see, we are very poor, but once I gather enough money I’d definitely buy you the best I can give.”

            And then she sobs pitifully that you’d get carried away if you’re not used to it.

            “I’m so sorry for threatening you, manang. (sobs) I promise I will be a good girl and I will never kill you.” She’s insane. And she’s one of the reasons why I can’t just leave the orphanage.

            “Hello, manang. Have you got me another doll?” Here’s another insane girl in this orphanage. The problem with her is, she’s obsessed with dolls, and she never grew. I mean, her mind was stuck to the mindset of a nine-year-old kid.

            “I’m so sorry, my dear. I haven’t yet. When we get enough money I’ll buy you one.”

            “Yay! Manang will buy me a new doll!” And she hops away. “Yay!”

            “You shouldn’t spoil them a lot.” It’s the lesbian. “They’re old enough.”

            “You know their mental deficiencies more than I do. You must understand. Besides, it’s Christmas: all the more reason to give.”


            The Christmas party started, there were Christmas carols, games, and the most exciting part (as so it is for children) �" gift-giving.

            “Lights off.” It’s the nun.

            “Goodnight sister. But can you please leave my light open, I’m still studying here.”

            “Goodnight sweetie.” And she leaves. “Don’t forget to turn the lights off when you sleep.”

            I stare at the complicated assignment, and when I’m halfway answering, I yawn.

            “Drink this, manang.” A kid puts a cup of milk on my table. It’s an orphan kid and her sister. They are twins, but they have different personalities. The one who gave me a cup is talkative and curious, while the other one is always silent. They always brew me hot milk, when they see me studying late. “You will not be drowsy.”

            “Thanks. But aren’t you going to sleep yet?”

            “I’ll stay here until you’re done, manang.”

            “Like you always do. Come here.” And they sit beside me while I finish my assignment.

            “Goodnight, dears.” “Goodnight, manang.”



            I still can’t believe that dad has returned. Mom and my brother were terrified at first but dad didn’t hurt them. He surely changed a lot. And he’s getting better.

            I arrive at school early and when I get to our room, he’s early too. “Where is �"”

            “She’ll be late. She slept late last night. Have you had breakfast?” “Yes, of course.”

            And we talked about various things. Despite being like the wind, he is not totally an airhead. He is so down-to-earth. And then she came. “Hey.” Beso-beso.

            “I was thinking, I should introduce you to my family. My father just came back, and he wants to meet you.” They look delighted to hear. Of course, I told them my background.

            “That’d be a great idea. So where will we be?”

            “Tonight, at our house we’ll have dinner. Are you okay with that?” They agreed. “Sure.”



            We arrive at her house. And as expected of a rich kid, it’s big and beautiful. When we entered, I sensed somebody looking intently at me and when I looked at the direction of the aura, it got away. Something stirs up in me, like something grand is in this night.

            Yaya is so nice. She tends to us and just her presence makes me comfortable.

            “Are you nervous?”

            “We live in an orphanage, a house full of people with most who come and go, so I’m not afraid to meet new people.”

            “We’ll see about that. Because I sense a peculiar presence around.”

            Yes, and it is her brother.

            “Hey there.” He acts just like a man.

            “What happened to your womanity?” Then he glares at us. And we understood. It must have been hard. “Let’s get seated.”

            We sit on the dinner table �" me between my brother and her. And then her father sits at the edge of the table. “Are these your guests? Well, good evening!”

            “Good evening, sir.” I greet back and I get nostalgic. “Have we met somewhere?”

            “I’m sure we have not.”

            “I’m joking.” And he laughs just like an old man.

            “By the way, I’m so sorry my wife is not joining us. She said she’s having an intense headache. I told her she must at least show herself to the guests but she won’t.”

            “It’s okay. As long as you are here, it’s fine.”

            “By the way dad, she is my best friend I’ve been telling you about, and beside her is her boyfriend, which also happens to be my best friend too.” I almost spilled my juice.

            “He’s not my boyfriend!” Her father laughs. I look at him beside me. He’s slightly smiling.

            We’ve had a great conversation that I totally forgot about what I was thinking about earlier. Her brother surely likes to play around him. I feel a little worried. We bid goodbyes since it’s getting late. And the two of us just walk towards the streets where we’ll ride a jeepney to go home.

            “Can we talk?”

            “Yeah?” I look at him and he’s deeply thinking.

            “About earlier, when I was introduced as your �"”

            “Let’s talk about other things instead. I still haven’t had my revenge yet. I can’t go marrying around until I give justice to both my mother and my father.”

            “Justice? And how are you supposed to do that?”

            “I will find them” “And then?”

            I pause. “I will kill them.”

            There was silence then. “Is that how you bring justice?! Do you think that would be too easy? You don’t have any lead on the location of your father’s drug friends and they might have died by now under the influence of drugs. And your mother’s killer is �"”

            “I have memorized all their faces.” And speaking of which. I remember her father’s face. It looks familiar. Yes. And my eyes widen when I remember that familiar face that has bestowed me the ultimate nightmare I’ve ever had. It is him. It is definitely him that fateful night. He may have forgotten how I look, but I have never forgotten his face. He grew old, but now I can still see his stinky face back then.

            I will definitely take my revenge. “Listen, I think I know how to find my mother’s killer.”

            “Huh? What?!”



            She told me everything, that I just can’t believe it.

            “Do you have any idea what would happen to us if you definitely take revenge? Don’t you care about our friendship? Do you find it very hard to forgive?”

            “Your parents were never killed. And I don’t care, as long as I get my revenge.”

            “Please don’t do this. For me.”

            “No. You are not concerned here. It’s between me and her father.”

            “I am concerned here. You know what? You’re selfish! Our friendship is at stake here. And do you think you’d just get away if you do crime? You are pushing yourself to the edges of hell!”

            “I don’t care! If it’s for the sake of justice, I don’t care if I rot in hell. I finally found one of the persons I’ve been yearning to find my whole life and you just tell me what-and-whatnots.”

            “You know I love you, and I don’t want you to be devoured by evil.”

            And there was a moment of silence. “Talk to me when it’s all over.”

            “Hey, wait!”

            She really has her eyes set on our best friend’s father. And I feel the worst winds coming in the days that will follow. She definitely is the fire. And if I continue to magnify her, things will just get worse. I have only seen this dark side of her when we were children, but I believed those were slowly gone when we grew together.

            We went home silent, because when I’d try to talk to her in the jeepney, I’d be like a crazy folk since she won’t even listen to me nor look at me. Until we get in the orphanage…

            “What happened? Why is she so gloomy?”

            “Please excuse us, sister. Goodnight.”


            I arrive school early and without her again. She just won’t talk to me, and I start to get worried. But I guess I must do something with our best friend. I can’t let our friendship go wasted.

            I sit on the far edge of our classroom, and our best friend came. Early as ever.

            “Good morning. Did you have a good time last night?”

            “It was a great dinner. Thanks again.”

            I want to tell our best friend about her plan but I just can’t get it out of my mouth. But I must or else everything is going to be ruined. “H…hey.”

            “Hmmm?” (moment of silence)

            “Can I hug you?” I failed again.

            “Why not?”



            I go to school a little later than him since I don’t want to talk to him. And just when I enter the classroom, I would see him hugging her tight. Last night he told me he loves me but now I see.

            “Oh, good morning.” (they stopped their embrace and greets me)

            “Good morning!” I greet back with a bright smile. “May I ask you where you plan to finish your studies anyway?”

            “Of course from this university, why?”

            “I thought you’re going to wrap up your studies in Anaconda University.”

            “Huh? What and where is that?”

            “It’s a university for snakes like you.” And I laugh. “I’m joking!” But she was silent.

            “That’s a bad joke.” It’s him. Oh well, roll eyes and sit on my desk.

            “I’m sorry.” She says.

            “You better be.” (another moment of silence) “Don’t worry, I’m joking again!”


            Lunch comes, and of course, as to not make her SO suspicious, I went with them. Yes, I am ready to throw away our friendship for the sake of justice.

            “Do you always eat like a p***y?”

            “What? That’s a foul mouth there.”

            “I mean, you eat like a cat! I’m joking here.” But the atmosphere was gloomy.

            “Your jokes are not green, they’re dark.” Finally, she speaks up. “What have you eaten?”

            “If I must say, it must be last night’s dinner. Don’t you think, your food was poisoned?”

            “Please don’t insult Yaya’s cooking. They were not poisoned and I’m sure you ate much last night. Now tell me, what is wrong?”

            “I’m still joking. Come on, why are you so sensitive?”

            And I mean all those I said. I don’t know why I love throwing insults at her. Is it because she is the daughter of the man who killed my mother?

            “By the way, despite your dad being a mental patient, he knows how to drive a car right?”

            “I know how to drive a car. I can be your teacher if �"” I eyed him a ‘Don’t ruin my plan, you a*****e’ look.

            “I need mature and experienced men who could teach me. So, if you could kindly…”

            “Yes. I will tell him.” She agreed. “When do you plan to start?”



            I put on a light make-up, a lip gloss and I fix my hair. I’m ready to carry out my plan tonight. But then my phone rings.

            “Please go home.” It’s him again.

            “I will, after I’m done. You don’t need to look after me.”

            “You need to see someone off. Someone’s getting adopted.”

            “At this time?! Okay I’m going home.”

            That phone call was a blessing in disguise to my mother’s killer. At least, he gets an extra night of his life. So I just sent his daughter a message that I won’t be coming for now.

            When I arrive, the place is in a ruckus. The crazy one is going wild, throwing things around. The childish one crying heavily while the lesbian comforts them. And then that kid that brews me coffee was crying really hard as well as her sister. She’s with a couple. And she’s the one adopted.

            Tears fall from my eyes. I know I’m used to this, but I wonder why I always feel the same pain �" the pain of losing someone.

            “Manang, I will always visit my sister and you to brew you hot milk.”

            “Yes, yes. Be a good girl there okay?”

            As she is taken away, I visualize her and her sister giving me hot milk at night, and them sitting beside me until we sleep.

            “Sister, why is her sister not taken too?”

            “The couple was newlywed, poor and impotent. They could only afford to raise one child at most, for the meantime.”

            Then somebody holds my hand. It’s him. “What?”

            “You look dazzling and brilliant.” And I can’t afford to be rude anymore. “Peace?”

            “I guess it’s about time we talked. Let’s take a walk outside?”


            We take a silent stroll outside by the afternoon sun. And all the while, he is holding my hand, no matter how I try to move it aside. “Let me hold your hand for a little while more.”

            We see the sunset together, for the first time. And even when we return, we don’t talk. In my head, thoughts of the kid were running. I don’t know about him.

            “Hey, can I have my hand back?”

            “Oh, sure.” And even when I move ahead, I can still feel him looking at me.



            I wonder what’s wrong with her. Perhaps she was just in a pretty foul mood. I hope today is not the same as yesterday. And both of them are earlier than me, which is quite a surprise. They both looked depressed.

            “Hey, guys. Good morning. How are you?”

            “Somebody just left the orphanage.” (Wind) And I understood the feeling �" just like when dad was dragged away by men to the mental institution.

            “I’m sorry to hear that. About the driving lesson, umm…”

            “Please tell your dad we’ll push through tonight. Thanks!”

            She smiles. But is that genuine? I have this gut feeling, making me feel suspicious of her, but for what? She is my still best friend. She must be just having a hard time as of this moment.


            I kind of feel creeped during lunch, when she was buying her foods and the two of us are left alone, he clasps both my hands and tells me: “Always be careful for me, okay? Please forgive her if she does ugly things, she’s currently having a hard time.”

            I find it hard to react when I feel a pair of eyes watching me with intensity. And water freezes with wind, so I guess this is not right. I’m caught in a dire situation, opposed against fire.



            I’ll let that one go, you slimy snaky b***h. Because tonight is going to be a night you will definitely remember. And you too, my boy. I thought you love me. Last night we were holding hands, but now you are holding another pair of hands, plus, they are filthy.

            I come to them with a mood I made as light as I can. “Let’s eat.”

            We eat in silence until we go home. Now then, how must I sway him away from my plans?

            I dilute a powdered cold medicine (with drowse) in brewed hot milk. This may delay him.

            “Hey, want to drink?” (tray with two cups of brewed hot milk)

            “What’s with that?”

            “I feel nostalgic about the kid who always brew me this milk. I miss her.”

            “Let me have one.” I smile. I’m sorry, but I must do this.


            This is the night. I put on a light make-up, I applied a light eye-liner, and I smeared my lips with a lip gloss. I wear a sports attire, and I arrive a little early at the agreed area. I look surprisingly simple for an avenger. This is the first, and perhaps the last step in completing my revenge. About my father’s friends. I really think they’re dead by now so going after them is perhaps useless. But at least I should avenge my mother from her killer. I’m ready.

            But there is a woman that annoys me. She’s been looking at me intently and I feel creepy.

            “If you continue, you might die. Until you learn forgiveness, justice can never be just.”

            “What are you talking about?” “God bless you.”

            “Hey!” Oh, he arrives. Time to shine. And when I look around, the woman is gone!



            I sure had a very long nap. I then remember about the driving lesson. Oh s**t!

            I run to her room and find that she is not there. I must get to where she is immediately!

            “Are you looking for your girlfriend?”

            “Yes, sister. Did you see her?”

            “She said she would just jog outside. She’s wearing a simple sports attire.”

            “I will go after her.” “Eat your dinner first!” “Later when we get back.” And I dash off.

            I sent our best friend a message to ask where her father went.

            We’re here at the park where they will practice driving.

            Which park?

            And when I receive the next message, I pick up my pace, but I run into a weird woman.

            “Miss, I’m so sorry.” I help her up.

            “Hurry, or you will regret it forever.”

            “Huh? What?”

            “Time is ticking. God bless you.”

            Though I don’t know what she’s talking about, I thank her and I go to the streets to catch a jeepney, but each jeepney that passes seems to be full, so I will just hurry to that park on foot!



            Everything is going well with my plan. When we’re in the car, I quietly observed his foot movements and figured out which one was stepped on to gas, and which one was stepped on to brake. And I also figured out how to maneuver the wheels to do turns. Though his b***h daughter is so noisy behind us, I just put up with it. Tonight anyway, everything’s going to change.

            It’s my turn to drive. I am left alone in the car, and I sure do well. But I will practice myself more to avoid failure in my plan. So I loop around trying to master the controls. Until I am ready.

            “Sir, would you like to see my skills in driving by now?”

            “Sure. Let’s see how better you’ve become.”

            “Why don’t you get in for a very spectacular experience?”

            “Dad, I’m going in, too.” Spotlight thief.

            “I think you should just watch us.”

            “No, I’m going with my dad. Please? Just this once.”

            I feel enraged but I should not be obvious. Or my purpose is defeated. I’ve got only this night as my chance. “Fine. Hop in, then.”

            “Thanks.” Perhaps I should just let him go this time. But I won’t. Justice is in my hands.

             I start to drive smoothly. And then I gradually accelerate. While I’m doing that.

            “Sir, did you not feel anything when you saw me?”

            “Nope. Why would I?” I am then enraged, especially when I see him from a distance.

            “Don’t you remember me?!”                  

            “What are you talking about. Hey! Slow down!” But I sped up even more.

            “Did you not remember the child you tried to kill ten years ago?!”

            There is a momentary silence, so I slow down a bit. And the b***h behind is probably just catching up. “What is the meaning of this?”

            “Shut up!” I shout. “Just so you know, sir. I never forget, especially faces of murderers!”

            “Dad, make her stop!” And he is shouting outside. “Slow down! Slow down!”

            For some reason, I want to listen and stop it all here. But I’m here now. Should I just stop after I have come so far?!

            “Please, stop the car.” The old man pleads. “Save my daughter at least. And I’ll let you kill me later for doing such a crime before. But just so you know, your mother �"”

            “Shut up!” I accelerate. So he confirms it himself. Tell it to the anaconda!

            I turn towards the streets finding somewhere I can run this on �" to make this look like an accident. That way, I can get out through the door just in time to save myself. And this could’ve been easier if only that b***h did not go inside with her father �" my mother’s killer

The streets are quiet at night, but the engine is noisy.

“Please, forgive my father. Please, please, please.” (sobs and hugs my back)

“No. Shut up, NOOO!”

“Even if you kill us, you can never attain peace of mind. Your mother would not like to see this, you know that, so please…”

Why is the world cruel? Why is life so unfair? Why does time tend to destroy you just when you’re at the edge of getting to the good part?

Why me? Why do I have to go through all that when others lived carefree lives?

Why me? When it could’ve happened to others and not just to me?

Why me? I already lived an unfair life, so why shake it into a dizzy and uglier one?

All my past experiences seem to be going back to me, flashing in my head like films without sound: The face of my mother telling me to run and find my father while she bleeds; the face of my father telling me to run and survive; the face of that drug addict who tried to rape me, telling me to run cling to my life. Should I keep running away?

The car hitting me; those orphans taken one-by-one by hopeless couples; that brewed hot milk kid who was taken away; him holding her hands. Should I just do nothing about reality?

            Why did all of these things happened to me? Why did any of these not happen them?

            Why me? Why not them? Why me?

“You’re very strong. And you’re one hell of a woman. So please, stop the car. We will help you change. We will never leave your side. We love you.”

I slow down to a stop in the middle of the silent street. Water is stronger than fire after all.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” The b***h �" no, my best friend’s voice echoes in my ears. I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d hear those.



            She is so dangerous. But finally, she stopped in the middle of the street. Thank God.

            I am so far away, but I will run towards them. But I see lights from a distance, from a speeding truck. And they are in the way.



            I see lights from a distance, and I immediately caught glimpse of a large truck speeding towards us. I step on the gas but it just won’t work. We start to panic. “Let’s get out!”

And before I could open the door, everything turns black.


I wake up in a white room, on a white pillow, white bed, and under a white blanket. I ask myself: Am I in heaven? I am sure I am not. I know the feeling of being so alive. And if I’m going to die, I’ll go straight to hell for what I have done.

            Someone enters. And it’s him. I’m relieved. At least it’s not yet my time to die. I then remember everything. “Where is she and her father?”

            He slowly shakes his head. “She tried to shield you both with her body but she was stuck halfway into getting to the front seat. And her father tried to shield you as well. When you three were brought here, you were unconscious, he was already dead and her pulse was barely beating. She was so weak but she woke up and told me that if she dies, her heart must be given to Yaya, who happened to be arrested, cardiac, after learning of her and her father. Turned out Yaya’s condition was already worse, it was an end stage heart failure and she would need a heart sooner.”

            I cry. After all I’ve done, she shielded me? And him, too, despite being a murderer?

            “And here’s one thing I think the old man was trying to give to you at the last minute.”

            He hands me the old man’s wallet.

            I open it. I pick up a folded picture. And I see their recent family picture. And there is another woman in there who looks familiar. The person I am trying to avenge. My mother.

            I remember her face as she was gunned before my eyes. Did she survive that?

            I pick up another folded piece of paper. A note.


My Dear Wife,

            I am deeply sorry for making you go through all that. I even shot you twice more on both feet so you couldn’t run and would just submit to me. We later found out that your husband and your child died shortly after. So there was finally nothing for you to return to and you’re totally mine. I would then hurt you just to keep you with me, and then hurt myself to punish myself for hurting you for the reason ‘I just miss you so much.’

I was later sent to the mental institution but I was worried you might leave our children (which you never did). There I realized everything that I did was wrong. I was haunted by my conscience, I wanted to return you to your family, despite having us, your original family.

            The guests that our daughter brought one night was her best friend, who turned out to be your other daughter. We even made up reasons to avoid her just because you have no face to show her after all these years. And now, she is asking me to teach her how to drive. I finally see a chance to show her how regretful I am for what I have done. I even promised you that I will look after her like I’m her father, and since she is best friends with our daughter, we should have no problem.

            By the time you read this, you know you are free onwards. I understand only our daughter is happy of my return, but you nor our son is not. Because you were afraid of me. That’s why, I will set you free by the time you read this. I may have been from the mental institution, but my memories are fresh and clear. I will embark on a journey to atone for my sins, to make it up to your daughter, on that very day �" the exact day when I took you from your family.

            This is my parting and my anniversary gift.

Forgive me and I love you.

I will always watch over you.


            I fold the paper. She is my sister. That’s why, I always felt a strong connection between us before.

And I killed her.

Is my face thick enough to show this to her brother? To OUR mother?

            Perhaps not. I don’t know what I’d do once I leave this place. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where to start.

            Why me? Why not her?

            Why me? Why not them?

            Why me? Why not you?

            But I guess it’s pointless to ask that kind of questions now, when it’s too late.

            “Be stronger than you already are.”

Yeah. Perhaps that is the answer to those questions that linger in my mind.


            It’s too late to realize that revenge will only give birth to more hatred and lead you to no good after all.



© 2015 Prime

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Added on December 7, 2015
Last Updated on December 7, 2015



Sagay City, Region VI, Philippines

Alan David T. Patani from Philippines ^_^ You can also call me Gem Prime. I am not a professional, so expect errors and typos. Sorry in advance anyway. I believe this is a story sharing site, s.. more..

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