𝐴 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑆𝑢𝑛

12. A Brother's Lament.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Smoke filled the room as the stench of it suffocated the air. The smell of alcohol had accompanied the leftovers of the cigars that had been used prior, and was scattered in one place on the ground.

Philip, restless, sat by the couch in his office. The curtains all closed, His hand gripping a glass filled of alcohol, as an empty box of cigarettes layed on the table beneath his foot.

"Tch. Why now."

The news plastered on the screen of his television, a breaking headline could be found anywhere;

' Corona Virus Outbreak. '

"They'll handle it, they said. They'll find a way to not cause it to go overseas, they said. What a bunch of lies."

Philip huffed in anger. It had been several days after the meeting and things have been turning for the worse. The president was no help at all, The vice president was in no good terms with the president and none of the senate was getting along, news outlets are getting shut out and every single citizen of the country is protesting about the unrighteous deaths of those killed during the drug hunts...

He couldn't control anything. He didn't have any power.

Even if he had been appointed as temporary country representative, he still had no real access as he did when he was the real country representative.

"Because of you, my life is in turmoil once again. I hope your happy, you little sh*t."

The Filipino stared at the picture frame at the corner cabinet, His middle finger up and going as he looked up to a black and white picture of Martial from the 70's, the last picture that was ever taken of the older before his disappearance.

Holding on to his position, he immediately faltered, groaning as he placed his arm on his face, covering his eyes. Sighing deeply as he recollect everything from the past.

"Sigh...."

He had been neglected throughout his life. Philip's misfortune, as he tells himself, started from the tradegy of his mother's death.

From the abuse of the Spanish Empire, The lover facade of USA, the burning puppetry from the Japanese Empire, the undending list of lost Filipinos in the martial law era, up till the present...

He never once rested. He always fought to survive, to live for others...

But what about him?

Sighing once again, He was too stressed to be overwhelmed with intoxication from the alcohol that he picked up his phone and dialed a number that he didn't knew he could...

Philip was about to press call, but hesitated for a moment.

"Who... Was I about to call?"

He dropped his phone to the ground. Quickly, his vision was darkening, but, he heard the doors creak as he heard a familiar voice followed with a cough...

"Philip? God, Philip, What on earth are you even on to-"

Sigh... Can't you see I'm already grieving enough to hear even a slight of your lecture, much less your voice? He thought, blacking out from reality immediately.