Signal Fire | Vicerylle

Prologue

He heard the loud banging of the door and the crackling footsteps against the wooden floor instantly followed. This scenario happens almost every night – he knows what’s coming for him and yet he’s still not used to it. He was badly shaking, biting his nails in anxiety, hiding inside the small worn out closet still hoping to God the ‘monster’ would give him a break tonight, or if he’s lucky enough, for the whole week. His back is still sore and his wounds still open from last week’s beatings, and he’s not sure how he’s going to take another session tonight when he hasn’t completely healed yet.

Large knuckles hit the door five times, swift and strong, the sound reverberating in his ears. He bit his hand to stop himself from crying out loud. He knows he’ll be found, but he’s hiding anyway, just like he’s still praying whilst knowing it hasn’t changed anything for a year now.

The closet doors creaked open and there it was, his monster. When he was younger, he used to think monsters are either yellow or red-eyed just like in the movies, but little did he know monsters also exist as ordinary people, and sometimes they take form and shape as someone we trust and love dearly and is supposed to be our family, our protection against the cruelest monsters lurking among us.

“Nagtatago ka pang gago ka...” he can smell the strong, acrid odor of alcohol and nicotine in his breath. He hugged his knees and buried his face on his lap, trying not to look straight into his predator’s eyes.

“Halika nga!” the monster shouted and tightly gripped his wrists. Being a very petite nine year old boy, he was easily swooped out of the closet and smashed onto the floor face first. He curled into fetal position and sobbed silently while receiving the blows from the thick belt targetting his back full of puffy scars.

He was unconsciously counting the number of blows that hit him in his head, but after 40 or so, he already lost count. The lashes were stronger, faster, and he couldn’t help but scream loudly when the lit cigarette butt touched his bare wounded skin, and a white-hot light flashed in his mind in intense pain. “Tama na, papa…” he managed to say weakly.

“Hindi kita anak, putang ina ka! Magsama kayo ng nanay mo sa impyerno! Hindi kita anak gago!” he heard the monster roar before he passed out.

~

“Vice?”

Vice, now 19, looked up and met his gaze, his eyes swollen red, completely shaken and bewildered. “The breathing exercises I taught you, do it. Calm down.”

“Vhong ayaw niya kong patulugin. Ayaw niya. Ayaw niya. Ayaw niya.” he answered while shaking his head exaggeratingly. He broke down into tears again and buried his face on his palms. “Gusto ko lang matulog, gusto ko lang… matulog. Pero ayaw niya…”

Vhong carefully handed him a glass of water but Vice kept on pushing his hand away. “Kalma na Vice, panaginip nalang yon…”

“Bakit ayaw niya parin akong patulugin? Kailan ba ‘to matatapos?” he asked hysterically. “Ayoko na Vhong, hindi parin siya nawawala… Hinding-hindi na yata siya mawawala sa pagkatao ko…” he finished while unconsciously rubbing the 10-year old scar on his upper lip caused by his own father, and remembering all the other ones plaguing his entire body for the rest of his traumatic life.

1.8 billion young people all over the world are struggling to fit in, stand out, and keep up every day of their lives, and among them, two young people bound by love and silence try to do it together.