The Revolution (Phase I): Dawn of the Endgame

[3]

SHE WAS RUNNING. The moon was alive, high up above the sky. The woods seemed dense and far from the city, despite it being one of the highly toured. She glanced back without stopping, seeing a shadow of a man. She knew him. She knew the man. She knew everything about the man, yet she ran. I'd rather be dead than be caught by him! she thought. But he's there, getting closer and closer.

She looked forward and did everything she could to increase her speed. Her balance was lost and she stumbled on the ground. She stood but it was too late. The man grabbed her by the leg and pulled her. She turned and closely saw the face. The face of a man that resembles . . . hers. There were struggles, of someone being pinned to the ground, and someone trying to strip the other of her dignity, of her innocence, of her . . . dress.

Izanami Morrigan woke up. She was panting, her shirt wet with sweat. Situated on a long chair, the TV infront still on. She glanced at her side and saw her uncle there, snoring, and like her, seemed tired enough to have fallen asleep. Izanami sniffed and smelled the sweet, aromatic fishy air. She smells them every time she enters the place. Her guess is that some of her mates in class probably smell it off of her too.

Their house was built with plywood and mostly corrugated stainless steel. It's never enough to battle a storm but was enough to protect them from the detrimental national heat. On the side was a double deck bed that wasn't built wisely, a sink on the other side, and a square table in between. On the side of the wall were pictures of her uncle, her aunt, and her father smiling decently. A little more to its side were gold medals, all academic. Izanami found herself staring at it for a while until her eyes went back to his father's picture.

His hair was black, eyes brown and sharp. The build isn't much, but enough to shut any doubt aimed at him. Izanami had no father until she was about ten. She lived with her mother in Japan for years not until she was killed in an accident. There were no relatives other than her father who lives in his own country. The same father that abandoned her and her mother. The same father that scarred her for the rest of her life.

Izanami was having these thoughts when she suddenly felt her nails digging in her palm. She was struck by it and calmed herself. Time isn't a great healer, but it sure poses a new lesson. Something that others will find hard to acknowledge. Something that she's good at.

Izanami sighed.

She stood and went to take a cold bath from one of the Discomfort Room that's being shared by many, located outside of their house. Though she has the opportunity to get a glimpse of the sun diving into the mountains. An hour from now different men would fill casas, and for people like Izanami, more men means more pay. After the bath, she then changed her clothes inside still before deciding to go back. It was already dark outside, and when she reached their place, her uncle was already awake.

"Saan ka pupunta?" her uncle asked. There was still a hint of drowsiness in his voice.

"Trabaho."

There was a moment of silence between them, staring at each other. She saw anger yet empathy in her uncles eyes, and realized where this conversation will be heading. "Iza . . ." he sighed. "Alam ko hindi ganoon kalaki nakukuha ko sa mga pinagtatrabahuan ko, pero . . ." He stood and went closer to her with pittied, serious eyes. "Handa kong ibigay lahat ng makakaya ko para sa'yo, sabi ko naman sa'yo 'di ba? Hindi mo na kailangang pasukin 'yang ganyang . . ."

This time it was all compassion. No anger could be felt in his voice. Izanami's hands were hidden in her pockets, and with it, her affection.

"Hindi naging mabuti ang kinahinatnan mo sa papa mo, pero . . ." She could feel him trying to make sure she wouldn't get hurt by his words. There's the desire to help her from this wound that keeps growing each day, but then the guilt of thinking that maybe he's a part of the blade that wounded her was also there. "Hindi ganoon kadali ang pagkakaroon ng tiwala sa isang tao, lalo na't kapatid ko ang papa mo, pero . . . nandito ako, Iza."