Sickos, Sickos, Sickos

1;; t'was never about the clothes

it was 9 PM, October 3rd of 2018, I was only 14 when one of my worst and unexpected nightmare happened. It was the night which I most regret. Regret that I did not fight back and came home late. T'was a hectic day, well at least for me. I spent my whole day practicing with my classmates for our dance presentation for our P. E class. I left school late, without anyone to protect me. I went home alone. I went home not knowing what was about to happen. I live at the slums of Pasig City, the slums which the City's mayor never cared about. It was a place where many sickos live, place where many sickos like them live. Sickos whom I am afraid to see again. I was running home late, I was running, afraid that my father will hit me if I come home any later than 9 in the evening. I was running and running, and alas, I ran out of breath. So I stopped , to catch my breath, which I regret the most. I stopped, at the worst possible place, and at the worst possible time. I saw my dad, drinking with his peers, until he saw me. He has a certain type of glare, a glare that still haunts me till now. Usually, they don't care, care about people like me, who isnt that pretty nor sexy, just a typical 14 year old student. But only this time, they feel different. Just so I thought I'm safe wearing our School's P.E uniform. But I guess it was never about the clothes anyway.