Sweet Tragedies

The Silent Witness

July 31, 2015

It was midnight in Soldiers Hills Village, and blue moon finally claimed the murky firmament beyond. Doubtless, it might be the last that I could see this rarely exquisiteness from heaven. And cold breeze turned to humid, though, it wasn't because of tenderness from love - which I thought it was – for my assumptions gone wrong. I was so damn wrong.

I tolerantly watched him for years, and how he fought every struggle of life all by himself. We were best of friends, and having him into my life was more than enough. I pictured Sid as a tough man, so strong, that I had never realized how frail he had become. However, he took care of me as much as he'd done with his beloved wife, Ethania. I was there when he proposed to her on bended knees, three years ago. I remembered him with those wide smiles and silly laughters. I joined him when his tears fell down after their family doctor told him that he was impotent. I never left his side when everyone he loved abandoned him after he experienced bankruptcy. We were together when he almost jumped onto the window, because he thought life had no longer a meaning.

He was both my curse and my blessing.

"I'm so sorry, Ethania. I'm so sorry, baby," he uttered softly.

His voice was deep, with an apologetic tone. I watched him while he held her so close against his broad chest. His tears flowed down his cheeks, and her dark brown eyes dismayed. He was so in love...and in pain. He held her more, not wanting to let go. He cried in deep sorrow; wishing that happy-endings were real, for she was his queen, his love, his everything.

He loved her more than me.

He carried her inside into his white, 1967 Chevy Impala, and gradually put her down on the passenger seat. Her eyes closed, her lips slightly opened. And to my surprise, crimson liquids were dripping, too, from the right side of her forehead. And those bloods went down to her pale face, coloring her seat and her white dress with dark scarlet.

Sid's black hair, which shimmered in moonlight, illuminating the window of his car, was combed back and his face carefully structured. Fear and anxiety had crept his body. I could sense it, as if I could almost feel his insanely emotions.

His tense hands started the car's Petrol Aspirated 327 engine, and drove as fast as he could. He didn't even bothered to close the gate, but he did manage to turn the car to the right side. From seconds, to minutes, then an hour passed by, Sid finally stopped the car. We were in the next village, in Green Heights Subdivision.

He opened the door, and silently stood in front of a hill. Below, I could see the entire city of Muntinlupa. Various colorful lights painted the whole city, like they danced in the melancholy tune, that only I could hear. I saw Sid heaving a sigh. He looked at the blue moon above, before he returned his gaze to his wife inside. I couldn't move when he carried her then.

It was supposed to be a couple's night – like what they did – but not this time. He carried her with qualms, uncertainties, and too much abhorrence. Yes, love could anyone drive in madness. Love could kill innocence.

I was their witness.

I was their witness when Sid saw his wife onto this car, with another man. I was their witness when he pulled the trigger and blew that man's head. I was their witness when he accidentally pushed her into the concrete wall of their garage. And there, her head hit a large rock when she fell down onto the ground.

When blue moon's beauty touched their skins, I witness, too, how he threw his wife into the cliff – along with her sins. I thought he loved me, too, until he burned me up, along with his evidences. I was about to shout when Sid aimed his pistol into his head, but I knew, whatever I would do he would never hear me.

I was only his car.