Bela, Angelica, Diabla

Chapter 1: Bela

Do not read beyond this line unless I will tell you.

Else those disobeying eyes amid the warning will be pulled out,

the mouth that defied my request stitched shut,

and all ears that hear my name shall bleed.

I repeat, halt thine eyes, curious through and through.

Else you will confront what my cursed hands are writing about.

Though drama is aleatory, this poem is anything but,

for my sense of justice is twisted, indeed.

Doubt is your enemy; my caution is sincere.

Cursed, shall I say, these words and my last breath.

Do not say I did not warn you, as I have for the past few lines.

Your obstinacy and ignorance are for you to own.

My repute will fade in time, but tattletales must now disappear.

Neither thy whisper nor thy screams shall escape my regret.

Unapologetically, I beshrew you with death beneath these rhymes.

The kindness left in me hints: never leave yourself alone.

Bela smiles as she finishes her poem and starts typing.

Bela Angelique Flores claims she is a romantic. An adventure seeker. Never content. She talks to herself and questions, Teka, romantic 'tapos di makontento? 'Nu 'yon? She doesn't know. Basta, it is what it is. Her claims are her truth. Hindi lang dahil mahilig siya sa mga topic tungkol sa pag-ibig pero dahil lahat ng bagay ay dinadagdagan niya ng spice. Drama.

Ika nga, she doesn't need drama. She is the drama.

She will break up with her lovers for the drama. Bed her friend's ex for the drama. Make men and women fall in love with her through her cute first-meetup script and then drop the whole thing . . . for the drama.

It's not that she doesn't feel the pain. She does, believe it or not. She will get herself invested to the person, but then when her calendar says time's up, she follows.

She wants the pain, actually. To be miserable. To continue fighting feelings she thinks she doesn't deserve. And then she'll make dozens and dozens of poetry partnered with her messed-up art—and artworks as well—hidden under her famous yet anonymous pseudonym Diabla Likha. These people she once called friends and lovers became characters in her literature, muses in her artworks.

Her patrons as Diabla are the messed-up rich people. They will buy anything they don't understand anyway.

Her first poetry collection, Sa Mata ng Nagbabagang Langit (In the Eyes of a Burning Paradise, as translated) has not only gained a following but has also sold thousands of copies locally and internationally under that pseudonym. Some of her paintings—which featured mental illnesses, angel-eating demons, underworld worship, and similar themes—are owned by different elites around the world.