Awakening in White Locks

Chapter 9

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Conrad;

I was four years old when I woke up to the reality that life was not like the fairy tales I used to hear from storytellers in the plaza for children.

My mother worked in a brothel. She was well-known because of her beauty.

Every day, her intoxicated husband would come home, hurt me, force my mother into intimate acts even when she was tired and unwilling, and sometimes even bring other women into our house.

Not only was her husband like that, but my mother as well. She would physically hurt me, especially when she saw her husband bringing other women home, kahit ang totoo ay gawain din naman niya iyon.

For money, she would sell her body to wealthy men. Sometimes she would bring men to our house, and I would hear their disgusting moans. I would cover my ears and try to block out the sounds.

I couldn't understand why my parents were like that. I was just a child. Every day was hell inside our house, in my life. It never occurred to my young mind to call that worthless man my father.

But with my mother... I believed back then that she would change. I believed that one day she would realize she had a child who needed her care and love.

But as I grew older and became aware of the world, I remained alone in that quiet and hellish house. And every evening, when my parents would come home, my body would bear new bruises.

That was the only cycle in my life: waking up feeling empty and going to sleep at night full of pain and suffering.

"Tama na po! Parang awa niyo na po! Masakit po!"

My eyes widened in shock one day when I found both my parents in the living room. My mother was smoking, her legs crossed. She was sitting on a wooden chair, watching something.

Her husband was on a long chair in our living room, naked, with a young crying girl under him, softly begging for him to stop and trying to cry for help.

It was then that I realized I didn't have parents. They were both monsters. And if I didn't stop them, who knows what else they would do to others.

So, in order for me and that girl to escape from the monsters, I killed my own parents.

I was eleven years old.

The young girl witnessed what I did. She was traumatized. So when she was rescued, she couldn't say what truly happened.

They saw me covered in blood with my parents dead body in front of me covered with their own bloods. Because there were no proper witnesses, they put me in prison, believing I was responsible for everything.

They even accused me of attempting to rape the young girl.

I spent one year in prison, without many acquaintances, as prisoners were afraid to approach me because of my fierce gaze.

From the moment my small hands stabbed my own parents, I killed my heart and conscience. I didn't want anything to do with people anymore. I wanted to kill them all.

I was twelve years old when I was released from prison because the young girl finally spoke up. And when I saw her smile at me, I felt like strangling her. Why now?! Why did she only speak up after all that time?!

I spent another year facing hardships in life, where all I experienced was suffering.

When I was thirteen years old, I considered ending my own life. What was the point of my existence in this world? Kahit ilang beses ko namang itanong kung ano ang kasalanan ko at pinaparusahan ako ng mundo ay walang makakasagot.