"Hapon noon. Bakasyon. Walang pasok ang mga istudyante. Wala pang internet at wala pa ding cable. Sa isang lumang bahay, nasa isang kwarto kami at nanonood ng pelikulang Pilipino na pinapalabas tuwing hapon.
Mainit ang eksena na pinapakita sa telebisyon kung saan unti-unting lumalapit ang bidang lalaki sa bidang babae. Palapit ng palapit hanggang sa maglapat ang kanilang mga labi at unti-unting magtanggalan ng mga damit.
Siyang lapit din n'ya sa akin at sabay bulong, 'Gayahin natin ang napapanood natin.' Di ko alam kung ano'ng mararamdaman ko pero natatandaan ko na di ako nakasagot. Lumapit din sya sa akin, dahan-dahan, nananantiya marahil kung paano ang gagawin. Naramdaman ko na lamang na unti-unti ding gumapang ang kamay n'ya sa balat ko.
Marahil mabilis lang ang lahat ng pangyayari, siguro matagal. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang talagang nangyari. Nakita ko na lamang ang reaksyon niya na parang may gusto itago, parang nagmamadali, kaya bigla akong kinabahan. Pagtingin ko sa puti kong salawal, may bahid na ito ng pula. Dugo. Dagli-dagliang s'yang tumayo at pilit na pinagpapalit ako ng kasuotan.
Natatandaan ko na may biglang nagbukas ng pinto. Ang nanay. Nakita n'ya ang pag-aaalala sa mukha ng tiyo. Tumingin ang inay sa akin, nakita ang madumi kong salawal at tinanong siya, 'Ano ang nangyari? Bakit s'ya nagdurugo? Nasugatan ba s'ya?' Ang sagot niya ay, 'Di ko alam. Nung pagpasok ko, ganyan na ang kalagayan nya.' Hindi naman na nag-usisa ang inay, marahil ay may hinagap sya kung ano ang totoong nangyari, marahil wala.
Tinanong muli ako ng inay, ngunit paano ko sasabihin? Paano ko sasagutin kung ultimo ako ay hindi ko masyadong naiintidihan pa ang lahat? Apat na taon pa lamang ako noon, wala pang bahid ng kahit anong karumihan ng mundo. Nagsisimula pa lang magtuklas ng bagay-bagay. Sa kamalas-malasan, karumihan ang isa sa una kong natutunan.
Nakakasuka pag naiisip ko na naging biktima ako ng kababuyan. Nabuhay ako na isinantabi ang alaala na iyon sa kasuluk-sulukan ng isip ko, marahil dahil mas madali ang magpatuloy mabuhay sa ganoong paraan at isipin na ayos lang ang lahat, na hindi iyon nangyari. Pero hindi pala.
Wala akong pinagsabihan na kahit na sino hanggang ngayon. Ikaw pa lamang."
Hapon din ngayon. Malamig dahil unang linggo pa lamang ng Enero. Nag-uunahang tumulo ang luha sa mga mata ko habang tinitiklop ang sulat mo. Tatlumpung taon at hindi mo pa rin natakasan ang nakaraan. Kinain ka pa din ng karimlan kahit anong pilit na pagkubli at pagtakbo ang ginawa mo. Paalam, ate. Sana'y nabanggit mo sa akin ito noon pa, hindi ngayon, hindi habang tinatanggal nila ang lubid na nakatali sa nabali mong leeg. Marahil may nagawa tayo at hindi natapos sa ganito.
I've also translated it to English for my non-Filipino readers.
"It was a hot summer afternoon. Vacation time. No classes. There's no internet or cable TV yet. In an old house, inside a room, we were watching a Filipino movie that's being shown every afternoon.
The scene playing on the screen was a hot and steamy one where the lead actor was slowly moving closer to the lead actress, leaning towards her until their lips collide. They had their arms around each other, taking each other's clothes off.
Then he went near me, whispered into my ear with his husky voice, 'Let's do what they're doing.' I don't know how I should feel but I remember not being able to say anything. I didn’t know how to respond to that. He moved closer, maybe uncertain of what to do or how to do it. I felt that his hand was slowly moving up and down my body, touching me.
Maybe it was only for a minute, an hour, I don't really know. I can't remember what exactly happened. I remember something baffling in his reaction, like he want to hide something. I became worried. I examined myself and then that’s when I saw the red stain on my white shorts. Blood. He hurriedly stood up, convincing me that I should change my clothes.
I remember someone opened the door. Mom. She saw the worry on his face. She looked at me, saw my soiled clothing, then she asked uncle, 'What happened? Why is she bleeding? Did she cut herself?' He answered coyly, 'I don't know. When I entered the room, she was already like that.' Mom did not ask him any further. Maybe she has an idea of what really happened, maybe none.
Mom asked me once more but how could I tell her? How could I say that even I don’t know what happened? I was only four years old then, I knew nothing of the evilness of the world. I was only beginning to learn new things, just starting life. Unfortunately, its wickedness was one of the first things that I learned.
It makes me sick whenever I think that I've been a victim. I lived my life hiding that fact in the depths of my mind because I've always thought that it was easier continuing life that way, pretending that everything's okay, that it never happened. But I was wrong.
I've never told anyone until now. You are the first one."
Today's a windy afternoon. Cold. It's only the first week of January. Tears run down my face as I fold your letter. Thirty years and you still weren't able to escape the truth. After all the effort of trying to run from your past, trying to escape that dark moment in your life, it still engulfed you and had eaten you completely. Goodbye, big sister. I wish you had told me sooner, not like this, not while they were taking the noose off your broken neck. Then maybe, just maybe, we could have done something about it. It may have ended differently.
The story is only fiction but we know that this scenario happens a lot. Abuse is one of the main causes of depression. It is sad that here in the Philippines, depression is not taken seriously. They're always saying that it's just rich people's problems or arte-arte lang (just being overly sensitive). Small or big, problems are problems. Let's not judge each other but instead try to listen. Just listen. Sometimes all they need is someone who would lend an ear.
If you're reading this and suffering from depression, please, please, please talk to someone. I know that we don't have much professionals specializing about mental illness here in the country, but please still try. Talk to someone. It may be a friend, a family member, a pastor, a teacher, or maybe even a bartender. Stay strong. What's happening in your life might be really, really shitty right now, but life is still worth living. It will be better.
This is my first story here in steemit. I've always loved writing but I don't like publicly posting my stories. I don't think of myself as a writer. I guess times are a-changin. Thank you for taking the time to read my post or at least checking out my blog. I'd really love it if you follow me, though. I really appreciate it and hope to share more with you. 😊 -
