The Monster Inside Her

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: THIS BOOK TACKLES MENTAL ILLNESS/SELF HARM/VIOLENCE THAT MIGHT TRIGGER OR HARM SOMEONE. THE PLOT AIMS TO EDUCATE ITS READERS REGARDING THESE TOPICS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

This is my first draft and my second story, so please bare with me. I do appreciate your honest comments, I really need that.

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They say, your eyes speaks a thousand words that your mouth can not utter...and I believe them. We live in a world where everything seems to be fake, but our eyes remain truthful. No matter how big or small our lies are, our eyes will never betray anyone. We can fool ourselves by believing on what we want even though we know that it's wrong. But emotions will always be evident in ones eyes.

"Michelle!" Ophelia screamed.

"Ano ba 'yon? Ang ingay mo," tanong ko nang lumingon ako.

Ophelia's my best friend ever since highschool. She's a probinsyana that turned into a city girl. Very mahinhin pero may megaphone ata ang bunganga.

"Halika!" She screamed again. It's hurting my ears, God!

She grabbed my left arm and dragged me. I tried to refuse but her grip was stronger. This lady!

"Saan ba kasi tayo? Mag-st-start na 'yung klase," I said.

"Saglit lang tayo, sumunod ka nalang oki? Quiet ka na riyan Michelle Celestine," umirap ako kahit pa hindi niya ako nakikita.

We ended up going to the music room observing her long time crush, Alec. Napabuntong hininga na lamang ako sa kagagahan niya. He was her crush since elementary. She said na schoolmates sila noon sa Batangas but they were never been classmates. Hinahayaan ko nalang siya since libre lang naman mangarap, taas-taasan na niya.

"Ang pogi niya, 'no?" I looked at her with disgust.

"Sana okay ka lang," I shrugged.

"Bitter, magjowa ka na nga!" She hissed.

"Marami pa akong priorities," I responded.

"As if mapapangatawanan mo," she said.

"Ewan ko sa'yo, tara na nga! May klase pa tayo," sabi ko naman at siya naman ang hinigit.

"Isang year nalang gra-graduate na tayo. Hindi ko na ulit makikita si Alec," madamdamin niyang ani.

"But the good thing is malulubayan na tayo ng mascom," I said.

It was never my plan to take mass communications, until that day.

"Nagpapakahirap ako magtrabaho!" My father's voice roared.

I was seven...seven and had to deal with adult problems. My mother didn't care at all. Wala siyang pakielam kung pinagtsi-tsismisan na siya ng mga kapitbahay. Wala siyang pakielam sa amin...sa akin. She'd go somewhere early in the morning leaving me with my aunt and go back home late. I didn't even had the chance to play with her.

Everything I knew was thought by experience. Not because my mother lectured me nor my father. Walang nagturo sa akin ng kahit ano. I learned how to construct essays by myself. I learned how to solve math problems by myself. I even learned how to cook because of me, not by anyone. I am independent at a very young age. My grades are high, not because they tutored me...but because I did a really good job teaching myself things.