Jun Reyes

Binangonan, Rizal

"Don't let anyone in, and ignore everyone knocking on the door! Stop standing, sit down! At this rate, your knees will give up on you before I do! Have you drank your medications yet!?" I said to my father, non-stop, while pouring water in his glass.

My father was sitting on the corner of his bed. He kept looking down the floor as he made a slight nod. His worn-out face and sunken cheeks made him look malnourished like someone who lacks sleep and nutrition.

Despite all that, he's actually healthy and is currently in his mid-forties. The few good points that I can see from him is that he's always well-groomed. He regularly gets his haircut and still shaves his face.

For some reason, he looks pitiable and weak. Even after everything that I've been doing to him, he still manages to smile.

Both of his knees fully covered with bandages. It's an injury that was caused by a colleague, who 'accidentally' bumped into him when they were going home after work. He was then taken to a hospital recommended by that same colleague. The doctor there said that due to old age, my father's bones were already fragile, which caused the kneecap to break and some other bullshit reasons easily. The police officer stationed at the hospital came and 'investigated' the issue. The case was closed as an 'accident,' and my father's colleague was 'forced' to pay the hospital bill. They gave him paid vacation and other beautiful sounding benefits; then, after a few months, the company forced him to file his resignation, which he did. Just remembering those things pisses me off.

"I'm heading out. There's food on the table, just heat it if it gets cold!"

***

My name is Jun Reyes, and I'm already 21 years old this year. I live with my father in this dilapidated two-story house in this small town. It's quite decent, having two side-by-side bedrooms connected with a single hallway on its second floor. There's a simple wooden stairway going down. The first floor was composed of a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. A simple house that looks so lifeless, having no decorations at all. Just white painted walls and some artificial flowers on a vase in the middle of the kitchen table.

Memories from the past played back on my mind as I walk down the stairway. I made sure the front door is locked and used the additional chain lock attached to the wall for extra security. When I turned around, I saw my reflection on the mirror.

My round face and fierce eyebrows looked exactly like my father. I also got this medium physique from him, not too bulky and not too skinny. There's a metallic earring on both of my ears: nothing fancy, just a small standard bead. I don't like them, though. I just got them to annoy my father since he always tells me that having a bright and clean face will help more people approach you. My hairstyle always prioritizes annoying him rather than whether it looks good on me. My current one is a crew cut that has a star-shaped design on the right top-side. I was filled with satisfaction as I remembered how he looked at me earlier. I almost thought that he was going to curse at me.

I drank some water in the fridge to quench my thirst then left through the backdoor. After locking the knob with my keys, I took a padlock that I always hid in a plant and locked the backdoor.

Locking someone inside a house might be something that people might frown upon, but there's a reason for this.

I consider myself as someone who has a bad temper, someone rude and an asshole, but my dad is on a whole new level.

I was not actually like this when I was young. I have lots of respect for my parents; we are a happy family of four, I'm a well-behaved child and was someone who likes to join Sunday worship groups.

That was years ago before my father become a compulsive gambler, ridden with debts, which caused his current injuries and our family's situation right now.

He was once a model figure for me. As a child, I always followed him wherever he goes inside the house. I watched him build a treehouse for me and my little sister in our backyard. He was a respected engineer, not just on building tall skyscrapers but other things too. Dad always told me stories about his dreams when he was a child and how he managed to achieve it. He would tell stories of how he scrapped his old toys for their parts and how he made new toys using all those parts. Inventing and building things was his hobby ever since.

I was sixteen at that time. Some of my father's colleagues invited him on a business trip, which he accepted. My mother wasn't impressed with the idea of him going since she had a bad feeling about those people, because those people were known for being addictive gamblers. My mother was right. When my dad came home after that trip, he always returned in the middle of the night, drunk—shouting words like, 'I could have won that! My luck is so bad these days!', and other things which finally made my mother try to convince him to stop, causing loud debates almost every night. At that time, I just covered my little sister's ears and made sure she sleeps appropriately. She was twelve at that time.

My mother was still trying to hold on to blind faith, that my father will wake up and finally stop his compulsive gambling. Until one day, when strange people in black suits knocked on our doors.

We were having lunch when I heard the knocks. My mom took a peek from the windows then told us to go upstairs. I brought my sister upstairs but stopped at the top of the stairway. My mom invited them inside and even served them refreshments. I took glances on the two guys following a bald old man. They just remained standing while the old man sat down.

The bald, middle-aged man spoke to my mom about something which made my mom frown. I tried to listen but got noticed by the old man when my feet made some noise. He looked at my direction, and mom followed him, turning her head. Feeling embarrassed for getting caught, I ran away, pulling my sister's hand without waiting for them to say anything. We hid in our parent's room but didn't close the door.

A few minutes later, we heard loud shouts downstairs, so loud that it scared my little sister. The sound of things getting shattered filled the living room, followed by a loud banging noise. I became worried about my mother, and that made me courageous enough to go out.

The people already left our house, so I hurriedly ran down and looked outside the window. I saw the old man get inside a black car, and then it drove off.

My mom was still sitting in the living room, looking dazed. The house was in a mess. The table got flipped, and the snacks on top of the table littered the floor.

There was no shouting or crying in the other room. This night became unusually quiet after getting used to my parents, arguing almost every night.

The next day, my mom left with my little sister and never came back. After a week of crying and pestering, my dad finally told me why mom left.

My mom decided to leave because she can't take it anymore and so he agreed, with the condition that one of his children must stay. And I was the one left behind.

And that's why I hate my mother, my father, my sister, and the world.

***

Clang! Clang! Click!

I locked the gate with chains and padlock. After that, I then walked towards the town plaza, which was just a hundred meters away. Halfway there, I suddenly felt dizzy. On reflex, I closed my eyes and touched my forehead. Then I felt pain on my feet that felt like an electric shock. The electrifying feeling slowly crept to my body; then, it went into my head.

I started tilting to the sides, so I tried standing still. I don't know if that's the cause, but the pain I'm feeling got raised a notch higher.

Even with all that pain, I managed to stable my footing while gritting my teeth. When the pain lessened a bit, I decided to open both of my eyes.

Standing perfectly still was already painful, causing some shocks on some parts of my body.

But when I opened my eyes, I felt a pain that was on a whole new level!

The electric feeling that was crawling in my whole body gathered in my eyes.

The feeling that it gave was like getting pricked by a sharpened pencil right in the middle of your eye, twisting it, then pulling it out. That process kept on repeating until I vomited dark blood.

It made me kneel on the roadside, which made me move and raised the body pain I'm receiving immediately.

After all that happened, I felt that I couldn't move.

And I don't want to move.

The pain in my eyes made my body involuntarily twitch. As I can't open my eyes, and my world became filled with darkness, a vivid image of what I saw kept on flashing in my mind.

I'm pretty sure that on my left side is a local bank. But the logo I saw clearly says, 'World Loading...'