The Witness

Chapter 5 - Omnipresence

Of course, Rosa felt sad, repulsed even. But more than anything, she was horrified. Horrified of the thoughts that came along with her sadness and repulsion, thoughts she couldn't control. She wondered if she really was as selfish as her mother often accused her of being.

And that was how she spent the first half of the day, in a push-and-pull of emotions, as she fought back everything that disturbed her. There was guilt. There was hatred, not only for Sherwin and the other boys and her uncle (he was, after all, why she ran away in the first place), but also for herself. There was grief, genuine pity and grief, for Sylvia, who had never done anything to her. Then, there was relief.

Relief, that for once, nobody was picking on her.

It was all surreal. Nobody giggled behind Rosa, nor poked her back with their pencil, nor "accidentally" bumped her. Those who passed by her said nothing, not even their usual "freak" or "weirdo" or "abno." There was nothing but silence in the row behind her, where there was a group of popular girls who never failed to ruin Rosa's day with their pettiness and insults. Everybody, even her worst bullies, was too caught up in their own sadness to harass her. That was the effect Sylvia had on people, Rosa realized. She was popular for all the right reasons. Which led Rosa to another thought that made her feel guilty.

Will anybody care this much if that happens to me?

In the period before lunch break, Mr. Puno, the math teacher, did not even hold a lesson. Instead, there was a memory-sharing session where several of those who were coherent enough shared their fondest moments with their departed classmate. Rosa was bothered. It felt wrong, so wrong, to feel jealous of someone who had been violently tortured and murdered, but Rosa was certain that if she had been killed instead of Sylvia, nobody would care. Nobody would cry this hard, nobody would share their memories. There were no memories to share, period.

In life and in death, through no fault of her own, Sylvia annoyed Rosa.

Sylvia June Francisco was one proof among many that life was unfair. Rosa often thought of her as perfect, and even though Sylvia was always nice to her in their scanty interactions, Rosa slightly resented her. Sylvia was beautiful, inside and out. She was popular, and sporty, and smart enough to make it near the top of the class. She never participated in the little vices the other popular kids indulged in--like class-cutting, smoking, and the occasional marijuana. And yet, for some reason, nobody held this against her. She didn't get bullied. She didn't bully anyone either. During one chemistry experiment, when she was paired with Rosa, Maddie Goro and a few other girls laughed. "What's so funny?" Sylvia had asked, and went over to Rosa without a word of complaint.

It was during this assignment that Rosa got to know a bit about Sylvia, who did most of the work since she studied harder, but gave Rosa a chance to help out. Sylvia was the middle child of a warm, loving, intact family, neither rich nor poor, the kind that went to church every Sunday, ate meals together, and had a lot of inside jokes. The kind of family Rosa could only dream of having.

"Being the second of three daughters is tough," Sylvia once admitted, after learning that her little sister and Rosa's brother Miguel were in the same Grade 5 class. "I can never catch up to the accomplishments of my Ate Sally, and yet when Susie misbehaves, I'm the one responsible." That was the closest thing to a family problem Sylvia had that Rosa was aware of, and she envied her for her minute problems. She didn't reply.

Then, the next Monday, Sylvia was absent. It was strange since she never missed class, but it was not far from plausible to think that she just had a fever or some other illness. That changed on Wednesday, when Sylvia's parents were seen at the principal's office, asking for clues about their daughter's sudden disappearance. She was last seen leaving school Friday afternoon, but she never made it home. Christmas and New Year came and went, yet nobody had a clue where Sylvia had gone. And it was very out of character for her to run away.

After the holiday, everybody returned to school but Sylvia. Even her closest friends were dumbfounded. Her seat at the front row remained empty. Then everybody's worst fears were confirmed.

At lunch, everybody talked about it.

"Can you believe it? An altar boy killed Sylvia! An altar boy!"

"In front of a church."

"Her Ate Sally called up my brother last night. She was hysterical! She also said that the police caught him in time."

"He fought back, that's what I heard. He fought the police."

"They should've shot him on the spot."

"I disagree. I'd love to see him sitting on an electric chair. I'd be glad to watch!"

"Me too! People like that are the scum of society. They don't deserve human rights." It was Sherwin Martinez who said this, and he shook his head. "Poor, poor Sylvia."

Rosa had heard enough. She hurried to the girls' restroom and threw up her rice, corned beef, and that morning's champorado. She rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. Then she caught herself on the mirror.

Rosa never liked looking at her reflection. Either she didn't like what she saw, or that she didn't see what she liked. It was the latter now. She squinted her eyes and peered closer at the mirror. Is this really what I look like? She sometimes even forgot what she looked like, and so at moments like this, it felt like she was looking at a total stranger, instead of her own very real self.

Surely, I look different, thought Rosa. Surely, I must look more...real.

Then she shook her head. She couldn't trust her own reflection. How could she then trust her memories?