MY LITTLE ANTAGONIST

Each lead role has its villain. Each protagonist has its antagonist. Whether it may be in the field of extraordinary beings possessing incredible strength and power like Superman whose wrecker is Lex Luther; or the night hero the Batman whose tormentor was the Joker; to the all time favorite fairytale; Ariel with her octopus Aunt Ursula and Snow White with her uncontented jealous stepmother; even in the thick pages of the book, the chemistry of the troublemaker versus the peace advocate still exist.



I coud not help but smile as I somehow could realte to this typical scenario. I knew of someone whom I considered to be a villain each time we meet. I view her as someone who seemed to be fascinated to see me having a hard time figuring things out. She likes to be treated as someone special, royel to be exact, and I am her faithful servant bowing for her courtesy. I could already feel that Cinderella and I would share the same fate. This seems to be out of hand. You might wonder who this being is. She is my tutee. A ten- year old ( she’s still nine when I wrote this) grade four pupil studying at a Chinese School; having her own yaya, with a fully-airconditioned room bigger than our kitchen; and who always speaks English.



She often brags her new things to me. “I have bought a new pair of shoes, its crocs. It’s worth P3, 350.00. It’s really expensive right? I also bought a new pair of rubber shoes. It’s Nike and costs us P 3, 094.” Aside from bragging, she also took a liking on comparing her new things from mine. “Can I borrow your ball pen? How much is this? What? It is only P9.00? (Its faber castell, one of my favorite pen) mines more beautiful and expensive. It cost P30.00 each, then I have three, and bought it in National Bookstore, not just anywhere”.



See what I mean? She criticizes my cheap bag. She disrelishes my handwriting. She does not like my hair cut. She dislikes my sense of fashion. Etc.etc.etc…

An epitome of a jubilant rich creature whose sense of criticism does not escape her prying eyes!



After all those scrutinization and criticism portion during our tutorial sessions, she often end up frustrated. She assumes me to fight back and defend myself, not just keep silent and stay cool as she went on her role as a tormentor. Lucky for her I got paid and it would not be pleasing to look at a teenager ( I'm still 20 ^^), trying to pull the hair of a 10 year old girl, grabbing her neck; letting her cry till blood runs out in her eyes, and telling her to respect me. or, secretly put broken glasses inside her shoes that through the pain of each step, she mortify for her sins. How drastic!


But despite the fact of this kid's unusual ways of dealing with me, still has her soft side. After she does her critical analysis to me for that day, she would hug me, and try to draw an innocent smile which signals that those were just her ways of showing her care and affection to me. What a peculiar child my tutee is. My tutee, whom I branded to be my "little antagonist".

THE FOREST

Lost in a desolate country,

I travelled far to find

what only you could give me ---

the equal heart and mind

that answer love in kind

And now while you lie sleeping,

awake but not alone,

I made this midnight blessing,

because the years have grown

to truths beyond your own

The heart can blaze with candour

as though it housed a star;

but this my midnight splendour

is not my own to wear:

it lights by what you are.

INEQUITY

Up until know I am not yet immune to his attitude. It’s been a year and a month since we formally realized our relationship with each other. However, the fact still remains that I am still in pain every time he throws unpleasant words at me. Every time he does it, I would always have this feeling that how would I be able to cope up with such attitude if ever I’ll be sharing myself with him for the rest of my life? Yes, I love him, but each harsh words that he’s throwing at me may it be intentional or unintentional (he always say that it doesn’t have a meaning at all) still hit me right through the core. And I bleed because of that one. I bleed because the one person that I love most could easily throwWORDS which I didn’t even heard from my parents. How ironic!

He says sorry. Yes, he often does, but those SORRYs still remain just as words. Yes, he says that it is a struggle for him to contain his attitude like that, but, I don’t know. He could have found a way to at least be a bit softer to me. But he’s not. He is not that type of person. I even envy other people. When it comes to them, he can always calm himself, but when it comes to me, he is like a wild boar, ready to devour me up to pieces with latigo of words that send me to hell! Painful, very painful. Sometimes I would think that I am like a SPOONGE. He let me absorb all the bad energies that he has. When his pissed off with someone or something, and if I consult him, we end up fighting. Little things that does not goes with his plan, he grumbles; and when I am there when he grumbles.. BANG! I get a lot of awards! He may see me smiling and accepting his reason and explanation behind such attitude, but, deep inside me, the sore still exists. And it continues to exist; contaminating my whole heart like a cancer on the loose!

I don’t know. A simple sorry from him, and all my anger against him would automatically melt. Is this martyrdom? I am always willing to accept everything that he wants me to do; all too willing to bend my knees on him and praise him, worship him, up to the point of being a slave for him. Is this LOVE? Could be, it could be not.

tears

Busy streets surrendered to the darkness
Dreamless nights started to partake
Shadows of longingness
Filtered the hydrolic air.

Walking along the mute alley
Unmindful of the cloudy sky
Tears suddenly rolled...

Beneath her stainless face,
Were the pain she had kept.
Over the years she had wept.
A captive of the past!

The clashing of the gongs,
The trembling of the mountains,
The swooshing of the trees,
Still could not swept,
The acrid taste of life.

But there she goes.
Unmindful of the cloudy sky,
Walking along the mute alley,
Tears still falling...

stupidity

I was so damned stupid to think that there still
something special going on between us. I could not believe how foolish I am to be caught again in this game called "love" ...
I thought that I would be invincible since i already learned my lesson, but I was wrong. Still the pain of being hurt lingers inside me. I could not contain it anymore. It's as if I'm being stabbed by a thousand knives in my heart. How could I overcome this kind of turmoil? How would I forget the past when in fact it is still haunting me so sweetly?

I was a bit happy when I saw him again... but the happiness was just a mere illusion. Everything had changed, including him. For almost two months that we weren't able to see each other, its as if I'm already facing a another person. He was no longer the person I once knew. The man whom I wanted to be part of my life. The whom I thought would give me happiness and joy... Thinking that our love would grow. All of these were only LIES!!

Now I'm beginning to understand and realize that i should not trust anyone so easily, so that I could not end up hurting myself..

IF ONLY

I didn't quite understand why the world condemned people like me. I didn't cause severe destruction to businesses. I never planned on bringing down the government, nor was I part of any terrorist group. I never disobeyed any traffic rules. I never went to rallies or street fights. I even helped the economy lessen the unemployment rate by having a job. But despite these things, I still could not find answers to my question.

I am Catherine, 20, an orphaned. My parents left me on the streets when I was still seven years old and was dying of pneumonia. At that time, I could not bear to think how I would be able to take away the excruciating pain of the cold weather that was pinching on my young and delicate skin, and the fear of being left alone in a dark alley. I almost would want to die so that I could no longer experience the pain. But the time for me to escape from this worldly misery was just starting.
KNOCK! KNOCK! “Cathy, are you there?” “Mother's looking for you. She wants you to go down.”

I was surprised. Why would Mother call me at this hour of the night? “I'm coming!” I scrambled out to be. I moved my feet and hurriedly headed towards the stairs. My thoughts were pre-occupied by a lot of things. I was nearing Mother's room but was hesitant to twist the knob. I heard that she was talking to someone else. I took a deep breath, knocked three times, and entered the room. Mother was in her late 40's. Tall. Slender. Still attractive despite the visible lines of aging on her face. She waved at me to come forward. As I did that, my thoughts started to drift.

When I was in the verge of what seemed to be an eternal suffering, Mother found me. She took care of me until I got better. She allowed me to stay on her place, since I've got nowhere to go. I lived in a big house full of women. They were people whom I don't recognize, and like me, they were also abandoned by their families. Mother adopted them and gave them hope again. She was impressed at how obedient I am to her. Why would I not be? This was the person responsible for my second chance of living. I never went to any school, but I learned to read and write through the help of my so-called sisters. All of us never knew the name of our heroin. She just wants us to call her”Mother”. I was able to find a new family. Days, months, years had passed. I was able to put my past behind.
“Catherine, meet Mr. Johnson. Mr. Johnson, this is Catherine.”

I offered my hands. He took it, and kissed it. I was surprised and immediately pulled my hands. “Very impressive madam”, he said to Mother. Then he turned to and said, “You are enticing my dear.” Mr. Johnson was a businessman who belonged to the upper class of the society. He was one of Mother's consistent visitors. Actually, Mother always has a lot of visitors. All were rich men, very rich men. One time, I saw Mr. Johnson left the house together with one of my sisters. And I wonder why.

“Catherine, Mr. Johnson needs your help”, Mother said to me. “What kind of help can I give her Mother?”, I replied a bit confused. Mr. Johnson answered my question. “You see Catherine, I've been lonely these past few days, and I needed someone to talk to. My wife and I are not in good terms. So I asked your Mother if she could find someone for me to help lessen my sadness. Would you mind giving me that favor Catherine?”

I looked at Mother. Her face was stern, giving me a sign of compliance. I nodded. Mother's smile widened and her aura started to light the whole room, clapping in victory.
I was led into the car of Mr. Johnson. His driver drove us into a hotel. We checked-in on one of the rooms. Inside the room I could not help but feel awkward. It was so dark and silent. The only light visible was the light coming from the moon penetrating through the windows. I could sense my hair on the back of my neck raised. Mr. Johnson touched me and slowly unbuttoned my blouse. I automatically pushed him and ran for the door. But before I could touch the knob strong hands were gripping my hair and pulling me to my antagonist’s direction. I let out a scream. He covered my mouth. Mr. Johnson forcefully threw me to bed.

“You bitch!” he shouted. “I already paid for you! Now you are mine!” What does he mean he already paid for me? His eyes seemed hungry as he undressed himself in front of me. “I gave the money to your Mother. She accepted. And you are not bound to resist me.”
I could not move. My whole body froze. Mother sold me to this monster?! Then I remembered the night Mr. Johnson went to the house and left with one of my sisters. I lay flat on the bed, while the beast devours me with torrid kisses. Tears started to build on my eyes. My fragile body is now experiencing sexual torture, and my heart bleeds as it felt the acrid taste of betrayal.

I woke up the next morning alone in the room, feeling heavy and burned-out. I examined myself through the adjacent mirror. My whole flesh was covered with bruises and scratches. I whined as I move. My bloodshot eyes wanted to avoid the rays of the sun. I stood up, picked my clothes scattered on the floor dressed myself and deserted the room. Mr. Johnson's car was waiting for me outside. The driver drove me back home.

That was the first time I discovered why Mother has a lot of money. Why she was able to sustain our needs despite having no job. Why she only adopts women. That was also the beginning of me being a prostitute. I was eighteen then when I had my first horrible experience. Now, I'm already twenty. For two years, I've experienced lashes of latigo on my dignity. Scars are all over me as people stabbed me with their harsh words and condemning eyes. I almost died when I got abortion and genital disease. But I was not afraid anymore. I've come face to face with death a lot. He is my constant companion already, if there is such thing as that.

Up until now, I'm still bugged by the criticisms that society is throwing on me. If only they knew my story, perhaps they would be more considerate. I did not plan to be like this. I would not want to place myself in this situation if only I had an option.
KNOCK! KNOCK! “Cathy, are you there?” “Mother's looking for you.” I sigh. The past still haunts me. “I'm coming!”