Chapter One: Dare Call Me Beautiful
It feels cold.
My body started shivering, yet ironically, sweat was starting to form on my forehead. I struggled to open my eyes, and from the darkness, I saw a glimpse of light.
With numerous attempt to blink, the light gradually became clearer, and my vision did, too. The room looked all too familiar, pero hindi ko matandaan kung saan ko ito nakita. A naked woman was painted on one side of the wall, her head tilted, one arm is covering her breasts, and the other is covering her well-shaven womanhood. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and her eyes looked as sad.
Napatingin ako sa sariling katawan. I, too, was naked. And I, too, have tears on my cheeks.
"You're so beautiful," a voice mumbled and a man suddenly placed his weight on me. The room was too dim and I can't see the man's face, but his voice gave it all away.
This man in front of me, is the man who walked me in parks and bought me concert tickets of my favorite bands.
This man in front of me... is no longer that man. He has turned into something monstrous... Ravenous.
Or maybe, this is who he really is, and he just blinded me with all the chocolates and beers.
Binuka ko ang bibig ko para magsalita, but my voice betrayed me. Everything betrayed me. I froze there, lying naked, my body not responding to what my brain is yelling. Fear crawled in my system, slowly consuming me, telling me that this is what I deserve, that this is the end.
He used that as an opportunity to grab my wrist and restrain me.
"No," I whispered without my voice.
I was taught the importance of consent. I was taught that whenever someone does something I didn't like, I was free to say no and walk away. Yet somehow... he had the confidence to believe that just because my "no" turned out as a whisper, then it meant yes.
So, he conquered my lips, and no matter how hard I try to purse it together, he somehow found a way to force his tongue inside me, making me question what I did wrong, making me blame myself because I am so helpless and powerless in his arms.
After numerous sexual assault from my friends, I used to think that I have the confidence to fight this once again, that I built muscles in this body to show strength inside me. I was sure that I had the power to defend myself.
Yet, I lay there, powerless, helpless...
"You wanted this," he muttered as I hear the unbuckling of his belt.
"No," I repeated, louder this time. My cheeks were drenched in tears, pero hindi ko pa rin mahanap ang lakas ko para itulak siya palayo. My fear crippled me, rendered me paralyzed at the hands of my 'friend', my perpetrator.
"NO!" I shouted finally. Yet, a cold wind ran through my spine as he chuckled, he laughed, as if my no was his favorite joke.
Tinakpan niya ang bibig ko gamit ang kan'yang kamay, he effortlessly parted my weakened legs using his, and as he entered me, all I can taste is the rusty blood from my lips because of his kisses, all I can feel is the heaviness of his hand on my mouth and wrist, the hot tears on my cheeks, the cold air on my skin, all I can hear is my muffled "no" and "please", all I can see... is the naked woman in the painting, and for a split second, I saw her look back at me. She was looking at me as if I was a pity, because I am.
And when our eyes met, I realized... that woman is me.
"No!" Napaupo ako sa aking kama.
Hinawakan ko ang aking dibdib dahil sa paninikip. I scanned the room for anything, but I was in the confines of my own room. No painting, no yellow light. I was home. Yet I still felt the danger like it was real.
A nightmare.
The same nightmare that haunted me for weeks and months.
Sinabunutan ko ang sarili ko. That was just a dream, I repeated inside my head. He's not here. He can't touch you.
Pinunasan ko ang pawis sa aking noo at ang luha sa aking pisngi. I held my wrist to alleviate the pain of his grasp on my dreams, pero napaigtad na lamang ako sa sakit dahil sa mga sugat ko na naroon. I looked at my cuts, wounds still fresh from the blade I used.
Huminga ako nang malalim at agad kinuha ang sigarilyo sa tabi ng aking kama. I didn't care if the smoke detector inside my room would go off, but I had to light my cigarette.
I started to rely on cigarette just so I can remind myself to breathe. I started to rely on the light bulb inside my room, thinking that somehow the light would give me that warmth, that the darkness won't give birth to that monster. I started to rely on blades in an attempt to remove his hard grip on my wrist, to feel the physical pain instead of the emotional trauma. I started to rely on liquor because sobriety reminds me of everything I tried to bury six feet under—the betrayal, the vivid flashbacks. I started to rely on sleeping pills because the voices in my head won't let me close my eyes. I started to rely on sex to cover all the non-consensual kisses, touch, and penetration from men I called my friends. I started to rely on everything else to keep myself together, despite the voices in my head telling me to jump out of the windows and just end my misery.
Lumipat ako sa aking drafting table and looked at my unfinished design. The sun was starting to rise, telling me that this is yet another day to survive.
***
"Beth, magla-lunch na kami," tinapik ako ng isa kong officemate na si Juliana sa aking balikat. "Sabay ka ba?"
I shook my head without looking back at her. "Busog pa 'ko, eh."
"Okay," aniya at narinig ko ang yabag ng kan'yang sapatos palayo sa akin.
She's the only one who talks to me here that is not work-related. She is the closest thing I can label as an acquaintance. I'm not sure if the others are intimidated at me or I just scare them away. I don't care anyway. I know my aura gives off this dark energy that would scare anyone away.
The truth is, my tummy was grumbling of hunger, but I didn't want to be near people as much as possible. I don't want them to ask questions about why I'm so distant, about the scars on my wrist, about why I'm so different with this gray-dyed hair, red lipstick and black outfit.
Tinitigan ko ang laptop ko. I've been staring at this for hours but I didn't know what to do with the design. Binalik ito ng manager ko sa akin dahil kailangan muling i-revise, kahit na ilang beses na akong nag-submit ng revision. I know my work was mediocre.
I opened my blog to get something out of it, to get inspiration, if that even exists in this dull and cruel world. I started writing another piece para maibsan ang bigat na nararamdaman ko.
People tell me that I am beautiful
in the way I turn sadness into poetry
in the way I exhaust art in this misery
in the way I learn from all the treachery.
People call me strong
by how I pick up these empty pieces
glue them together through passionate kisses
and stand up despite the scars and creases.
I absentmindedly clicked on publish and closed the browser. Sinubukan ko muling bumalik sa aking design pero kahit anong gawin ko, I am not satisfied with how it turns out to be.
It's hard to be in this field when you're already on the verge of giving up. It's hard to design home for others when you're crying at night at the confines of your own home.
Muli kong binalik ang sarili sa blog and saw a number 1 at the mail icon. Somebody sent me a message. I never really thought people care about what I write, I just do it as an escape, kaya naman mabilis kong binuksan iyon. It was from someone with a username Art and his message was sent just five minutes ago.
But?
My forehead creased at the question. I typed a reply.
Ha?
Three dots on my screen appeared, hinting that he was typing a reply.
Your poem... may kasunod 'yon, hindi ba? Can I see?
Who was this guy and why does he care about my poem? Pero hindi ko na iyon tinanong pa. I really don't care anyway whether he's been reading my poems. Tama siya, that poem was unfinished, and I intended to keep it that way because I didn't want anyone to read behind my mind. But in this anonymous website, there was nothing to lose. And in the end, I found myself sending him what was next in my poem.
But the reality is
there's no romance in drowning
there's no beauty in dying
there's no magic in the way I pull out of this prison and always failing.
There's no poetry in trying
in every night my bones are breaking
out of this body I keep on crawling
hushing the voices in my head wishing I was dying.
Dare call me beautiful
in ruined mascara and nights sinful
in guns, knives and Russian Roulette
and breath of rum and cigarette.
Dare call me beautiful.
Huminga ako nang malalim dahil muli kong naramdaman ang paninikip ng dibdib ko sa sinulat ko. I saw that three dots once again, appearing and disappearing. Seems like even that person didn't know how to respond, but I didn't intend to wait. I closed the browser and shut my laptop.
