🏆 LONGLIST - OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST 2022
Vincent Pareja longs for the day when his family won't worry about money and his siblings can go to school without skipping a meal. With his choices limited and with the wage, however small, promises to help h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sir Danny looked at me from behind the spectacles sliding down his nose. He held up the envelope which contained the resignation letter I spent the whole night drafting. "What's this?" he asked.
A dry retort attempted to flit past my lips but I tamped it down. "I want to resign, sir," I said. "This job is no longer for me."
The Major raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
I opened my mouth but no words came out. What would I tell him? That I have been to two different instances of soldiers torturing people for information or just for entertainment and I couldn't handle it? Delgado's words reflected back to me. Weak. You're weak.
Maybe. Maybe so. I didn't know anymore.
"I find that some aspects of it, some things required of me, conflict with my morals," I said, clasping my hands in front of me and resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of my feet. "I would like to step back from it all."
Sir Danny scratched his thinning hair and threw the envelope down. A few pens and paper clips bounced against the open planner along with it. "Ay, what are you thinking, doing it only now?" He massaged his forehead. "I'm afraid I can't grant it at this moment."
I stepped forward. "Sir?"
"Yeah, I can't," he put his hands together. "There's been a lot of defections happening around the military factions. I can't have officers disappearing on me, especially with that growing crowd down on the highway."
I didn't even need to ask what he's talking about. It was all over the news and it's all my family ever talked about whenever I go home. It was all Jessa talked about too when I do see her outside of her working hours representing the victims of the Martial Law. After the death of the senator, it has become clear that the government was something that couldn't continue further. Soon, demonstrations started appearing in the streets, first detached and in small patches, but it wasn't until two days ago that a number this many showed up in one place at one instance—all with the united cry for the tyranny to end.
"Sir, please," I didn't like how my tone turned into something close to begging. "I need out."
Sir Danny shook his head. "At least until this is all over, is that alright with you?" he said. "We need manpower more than ever. The generals and the president might call soon so expect orders flying."
"Sir—"
"I wouldn't hear it, Pareja," Sir Danny said with a resigned sigh. "Just...go. Help marshal the demonstrations. Do your job. Maybe I'll consider letting you off."
With that, he turned back to his desk and continued his work, leaving me no room to reason. My shoulders slumped, feeling all hope deflate inside me. I gave the Major a quick salute and strode out of the room.
Jessa was right. There would come a point where I wouldn't be able to walk away. I was already in too deep with real responsibilities inside my job. And when I begin to fight, to open my mouth against the forces that be, I feared I wouldn't be heard. To the people, I was an agent of unjust punishment and of the devil. To the military, I was nothing but a pawn and a weak one at that. And when you're weak, you are treated as less. As nothing.
