Sins of the Rebels (Lush Trans Series #1)

Chapter 70

You have now reached the last chapter of Sins of the Rebels (Lush Trans Series #1). I apologize for any grammatical errors you may have encountered; I'm still honing my skills as a writer. Thank you all for taking the time to read this story! It may not be perfect, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll see you at the Epilogue/Wakas!

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Warning: SPG

I see it now. His pain— raw, unhealed, lingering from years ago. It's painfully familiar, like looking into a mirror of my own past. When you're hurt, lashing out feels almost natural, like a twisted justice. You want others to feel that same emptiness gnawing at you. It's as if, in sharing the pain, it might lessen somehow. But I know now, it doesn't work that way, it only spreads the suffering.

I understand it now. I've felt that way before. But watching him, seeing how he wears his pain like a shield, I see something familiar. He's caught in the cycle of his own hurt, lashing out because it's all he knows. He's hurt, so he hurts others. Life's been unforgiving to him, and he's just reflecting back the darkness he's been given.

I can feel my own wounds too, deep in my chest, but I choose something different. I could retaliate, I could let anger take over and start hurting back, but I know that would only make things worse. I've seen how pain can spiral into more pain, how one cruel act can set off a chain reaction. I'd rather not be part of that.

Instead, I choose compassion. I choose to understand the pain that's fueling his actions, even if it means I have to take the blows, even if I have to swallow my pride.

I can't let my hurt shape me into something I don't want to be. I won't let it turn me into someone who brings more hurt into the world.

It's hard, though. Hard to be the one who holds back, who doesn't give in to the impulse to strike back. But I know, deep down, that sympathy, understanding, and love are the only things that can heal wounds like these— not revenge, not bitterness.

Laging sinasabi sa akin ng aking ina noong bata pa ako: Laging maniwala sa sarili mo at alagaan ang iyong kalusugan. Paulit-ulit niyang paalala ito, lalo na kapag mahirap ang buhay. Tinuruan niya akong tandaan na ang bawat tao sa paligid natin ay may sariling mga pagsubok sa buhay, kaya't hangga't maaari, maging mabuti tayo sa iba, kahit na hindi laging madali.

Sabi niya, subukan mong laging ngumiti. Magbigay ka ng positibong enerhiya at pahalagahan ang mga sandaling masaya ka. Hindi niya ibig sabihin na ipagwalang-bahala ang mga hirap, kundi hanapin ang lakas at liwanag sa maliliit na bagay.

Sinubukan kong panghawakan iyon— ang ngumiti, maging sandigan ng iba, kahit na sinusubok ako ng panahon. Ang kaniyang mga salita ang naging dahilan upang patuloy akong magtiwala sa mga tao, upang magbigay ng tiwala kahit minsan ay mahirap.

Minsan masasaktan ka, sabi niya, ngunit mas hihigit ang pasasalamat at init na matatanggap mo bilang kapalit. At bagaman may mga pagkakataong nagduda ako, mga panahon na nasira ang tiwala o hindi napansin ang kabutihan, napagtanto ko na ang kaniyang mga salita ay hindi tungkol sa paghihintay ng kapalit. Tungkol ito sa pagiging taong matatag, sa pagkakaroon ng lakas sa pagiging mabuti at matibay.

It's not that I blame her. But then, I let that happen to me. I listened to her everyday guidance. Hinayaan ko ang sarili kong lugmokin ako ng ibang tao. Hinayaan ko silang diktahan ako. Hinayaan ko silang saktan ako.

Naging sunud-sunuran ako, tahimik na tumatanggap ng kahit anong sabihin o gawin ng iba, dahil sa akala kong iyon ang tamang paraan.

Akala ko, kung magpapakita ako ng kabutihan at pag-unawa, susuklian nila iyon ng respeto. Pero hindi ganoon ang nangyari. Unti-unti, nawawala ang sarili ko, natatabunan ng mga expectations at paniniwala ng iba.