Tiny hands pushed you off that bamboo bench. Your arms flailed, like anchors trying to hook onto something. But, it proved too late. It was too late that you couldn't keep that book of yours from falling nor could you even shield your face from kissing the dirty brown earth.
Everyone laughed at you. Your tears stung your eyes and your ears heard them call you names.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let them do that to you?!"
"They are treating you like dirt. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why wont you fight back?"
"Do you like this pain? This misery?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
His right arm grabbed around your and this made you smile to yourself. Like a programmed robot, you leaned your head on the crook of his shoulder. You felt him nonchalantly take your schoolbag and slung it onto his back as if it was his own. Your head cranes up to his and you gave him a nice peck on his jaw. His green eyes looked at you and you sent out one of your sweetest , most innocent smiles. His eyes twinkled and welled up as if to cry. Then, his neck bends to kiss your lips. You know this all too well. Deviously, you ducked your head away, pulled your schoolbag from his hold and swiftly ran to the opposite turn of the crosswalk. Your boyfriend was there, waiting by the shed, just next to his high school. A few meters away, you turned back and he was still there, smiling, waving at you. His green eyes twinkled with the secret which you both relished in.
"You are weak."
"Why would you do this to him?! He's our best friend!"
"He's in love with you. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why wont you love him back?"
"Do you like this thrill? This betrayal?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
A pair of sweaty hands snake around your waist as you were hoisted upward unto porcelain. The fabric of your skirt hiked up as his other hand trailed along your legs to your thighs. You caught his cigarette-flavored tongue in your mouth. It tasted like the cocktail he offered you earlier. Instinctively, your own hands pulled him closer, his warm body radiating against your own sweaty skin. Your left hand went around his neck while the right made a rough tug through his hair. He groaned and bit your lip gently. You tried to look at him just to make sure if he is as hot as he was back when you were dry-humping each other on the dance floor. But, your visually-impaired eyes itched at the colorful smoky air so you closed them again. Your girls are nowhere to be found. The strobe lights kept you in a daze. Faint party music hums on the background.
Some group project this turned out to be.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let him do this to you?!"
"He just wants to screw your body. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why wont you fight this feeling back?"
"Do you like this attention? This disgusting fondling?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
After listening to those cold words uttered, your hands had finally turned cold and numbed. Through your tears, you felt yourself collapsing onto the linoleum floor. Your body collided hard and you silently let out a scream of pain. No sound came out as your were struggling for air against your spasming and the influx of saliva and mucus. Faintly, you heard people shouting in alarm. Arms lifted your stiffened body upward and you were pushed back first on a bed. Clothes became too loosen and other hands began to wipe off saliva, mucus, caked dust, and floor-given grime off of your face. Your vision had gotten blurrier as the time passed by. As soon as you were about to give into the darkness, you felt a harsh blow on your cheek. Then, you felt it again. Hands pressed onto your stiffened limbs, forcing it to move. Your glued-in mouth opens to a painful silent howl as more hands pressed onto your rigid form. Warm tears trickled through your cold cheek.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let this happen to you?!"
"They are just making you feel bad about yourself. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why wont you fight it back?"
"Do you like this pain? This helplessness?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
His hands reached up to the manuscript your were painstakingly proofreading. Your eyes darted at him. He had sat beside you when you clearly asked everyone to leave you alone. He wasn't looking at you, though. His eyes were fixated at the words you've woven as your creative class project. A spark of irritation was about to tell him a piece of what was on your mind at that time; but, it disappeared when he suddenly spoke. He breathed life into those dead words that scattered around that paper cemetery. And, you were left appalled for the second time that day, but, in a good way. Finally, he had turned his head towards you and asked a simple question about the manuscript, and you raised your right brow at him. This dude simply couldn't take a hint and it was actually interesting. It felt so right but you haven't completely gotten over the beloved who betrayed you.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let this happen to you again?!"
"He wants you to be intrigued. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why wont you ignore him?"
"Do you like this pain? This romantic nuisance in your head?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
Shakily, your hands cupped your mouth shut as you let out muffled sobs. It was four in the morning and you clearly have not slept for work tomorrow but that didn't bother you as it should have. What bothered you was the audacity of the people whom you once called best friends. How crass they could call you names without knowing the real truth. These people whom you fought for and spent the most time, patience, and understanding with. Now, they called you petty and snobbish throughout the conversation, when it was clear to everybody that you did your best to make their special day seamless despite the hassle it entailed you to be in. They labeled you ungrateful, insensitive, and unreasonable when even a simple thank you note from them never reached your ears.
The group call was over, but the heartache of them shattering the trust you placed on them continues to hurt tou inside. To move on, you posted happy gatherings with other people on Facebook. Sickeningly, they called you out, to the extent of calling you prideful for posting yourself being happy with other people. Ironically, when they posted their own gatherings and outings without you, you don't even comment.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let them do this to you?!"
"They were your friends. You defended them and made them comfortable.Why can't they see that?!"
"Why wont they understand you? Friends are supposed to listen, right?"
"What the heck? You still want to trust people after this treachery?!"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
Your fingers trailed up to feel the thin scabs on your right cheek. The thin cuts behind your arms and the left side of your neck were healing but it still stings when you get sweaty. You turned your head away from the mirror and let out a deep breath. It was time to leave for TESOL class.
You reached your class room with your head hung low than the usual. Classmates greeted you here and there. You smiled and took your seat. You took the one at the back this time so that no one could see. But, your professor must've taken your actions unusual and she approached you. She asked about the lines on your face and in panic, you explained that you played with your cat. You don't own one. You are aware that you are in a classroom so you kept those tears in check.
"You are weak."
"Why would you let this happen to you?!"
"The scar could be seen by everyone. Why can't you see that?!"
"Why did you have to go to school today"
"Do you like this pain? This embarrassment?"
"Just Kill yourself already!"
As you fumbled through your luggage and as your fingers rummaged for your set of keys in your bag, you smiled to yourself. The doorknob opens with a soft click and your other hand reaches for your light switch. Then, you see your newly-bought bed and the fold-able table you bought on a bargain sale. Your lips in a soft smile, as you tossed your shoes on the makeshift doormat you've made from your oldest shirt. You gently placed your working bag and the brown paperbag of produce on the table. You plopped on your bed while you unhooked your bra. With your toes, you press the AC to life.
This simplicity, this mundane lonely freedom of your apartment. The very walls of it welcoming you in an embrace with was starting to remind you of what a home should have felt like all those years ago. In your mind, it gently whispered.
"Cherish yourself a little for not giving up in all those weak moments.."
You finally made it. Just a little bit more.