into existence

To you. A precious being, you boil my blood like no other. I like you so much. I like you I like you, I just really like you. I can't explain how much I like you.

To me, you shine brighter than the sun, you took something from me and never returned it. Anyone around me would usually laugh when I mention your name, they all have the same thing in mind, their eyes say it, 'i am not over you yet?' not yet. No and never.

I don't know why, you just never left my mind.

Wherever I go, no matter how far, I am attached to you like a leech, as if chained. It's funny how it ended up like this when we never had any proper interaction, I am always the quiet kid and you're always the popular one, the center of attention.

I can't even look you in the eye, whenever you're around I can't think properly. BUT when your back is turned, I can't take my eyes off of you. You shine so Bright I want every part of you.

If I'm a painter you'd be my muse, too bad I'm not good with art. If I'm a songwriter, obviously, it will be all about you: admiration, affection, longing and obsession. I wanna learn how to do sculptures so I could do you. That's the only reason why I wanna learn that skill.

I sometimes wonder if this is love, is it? No. Not really. And probably will never be. I don't love you, what the heck. But if you die, I'm never gonna be with anyone, I want you. But I don't really wanna date you. Does that make sense? I just want my fill, I want a piece, I don't care if I can't have the whole as long as I have something.

I don't care who you end up with, like I don't really care. I can't explain how much I don't care but that's the same amount as how much I like you. I really like you, I like you so fucking much. I am obsessively (slight) and wholeheartedly (not really) into you. You're like gold, shining so bright and so fucking precious.

Do you think I'm sick?

I'm not.

I will destroy you if you get in my way.

When Hassan turned 12, he received his first pair of shoes, it was a gift from his father; who’s apparently been saving up the money for years, anticipating no more unexpected situation on the horizon, his father was able to make the purchase . It’s been 4 years since then and that same shoes is so worn-out its unrecognizable; now, he longs for a new pair.   

“Father, just a few more days and we can finally harvest, once that is done, I’d like to get myself a new pair of shoes.” Hassan said looking up to his father. “I’ve been wearing the same shoes for several years now and its already worn out, they laugh at me at school.” he complained, shifting his gaze to avoid his father’s eyes. He couldn’t contain the spark of embarrassment.  

A warm smile crept onto his father's face as he asked, “Sure! What color do you want?”

Hassan’s face beamed with excitement. “I want black! It looks cool and suits me well.” he stood in front of his father and showed his shoes.

Mr khilaam looks down, seeing how damaged the shoes are, he felt ashamed.

“Black again?” looking straight at Hassan, “You have to try out other colors too.” his father commented.

“C’mon, you know that’s the only color allowed at school, besides, I like black.” Hassan insisted, shuffling the grass with his feet.

The father chuckled. “Alright alright, whatever you say. I’ll buy you one but you have to keep it a secret to your mother, we both know she prioritize needs before wants” he playfully said.

“Father, I ‘need’ a new shoes” Hassan replied firmly, shooting glares at his father. Amused by this sight, Mr. Khilaam raised his hand.

Laughing lightly, he pat his son’s head. “Don’t let other people break your spirit kid. A shoes can be changed but not a broken spirit. You’re my son, be tough. Fight back if necessary but as much as possible you have to keep the calmness of your mind, don’t make enemies, because like I said, a worn shoes can be changed and so are people’s opinion.”

Hassan’s brow met each other, pouting his mouth he looked away and mumbled. “I’m not making enemies, but I really need a new pair of shoes”

“Hahaha, I know I know. Once this is harvested, I will buy you a new pair.”

The pair of son and father looked at the vast acres of rice fields, fresh air embraces their body as they both showed smile of satisfaction. They both had worked hard maintaining a healthy condition of this plants, like his father’s frequent advice to him. A great effort will receive a great reward, and that just unfold right in front of his eyes. And he’s about to have a new pair of shoes, Hassan’s smile travel through his mouth to his eyes, seeing this unfold, Mr. Khilaam couldn’t contain his happiness; he raised his arms and put around Hassan’s neck, both looking at the rice field, the father and son giggled uncontrollably.

After several days, the harvesting season arrived. Hassan woke up earlier than usual, he excitedly folded his mosquito net and shove them at the usual spot. Hassan’s house is not as big as what the magazine shows, not as big as the television in town shows, just like everyone else, he lived in a humble abode, a small two story nipa house; with one room which he shares with his parents and a kitchen big enough for the comfort of the three of them.

“Where’s Father?” he asked his mother who was cooking on the side, carrying his tube wrap, he walked down the three-step wooden stairs.

“He left already; don’t mind him and start getting ready. By the way, you have to drop something for me at Babo Belay’s house on your way later.”

Hassan shrugged a little and started getting ready, he took the bucket and walked out of the house. After a brief five-minute walk, he reached the central weel of their Bario. There’s only three weels in their Bario, one for the community, one for their Kapitan and one for his family.

After arriving, Hassan wasn’t surprised to be welcomed by the sight of three men scrubbing each others’ back, and on top of that, he was quite familiar with them.

“You’re early” his cousin, Emran jokingly said. Hassan put down his bucket and started filling it.

“I feel good today, like something good is going to happen”, he smiled, flexing his white teeth. He shifted his gaze to Ali, one of the guys, and continued “By the way, any news from the job you mentioned before?”

“Now that you mentioned it, I’m pissed again” Ali replied, scrubbing Harim’s back forcefully.

“Ouch, Dude! Slow down, that hurts!” he cried.

Emran looked at them amusingly, turning his head to Hassan. “The Kapitan suddenly canceled the work, we don’t know why, he didn’t said anything.” he stated.

“And this foolish guy is in debt!” Harim added, scoffing at Ali.

“Argh, I was pretty confident that I’d be able to pay since he’s giving us work. Now I don’t even know where to get the money to pay all those debt”

Harim couldn’t believe his friend was this foolish—too confident to borrow five pack of cigarettes because, according to him, ‘I found a job, I’ll be able to pay’ only for things to end up like this. He wondered how he’d sweet-talk his way into the fuming face of Babo Maria if she learns he can’t pay. He chuckled a bit at the thought of it.

Hassan stopped what he was doing and looked at the guy who just arrived. Carrying his towel, the guy said, “Are you talking about the cancellation of the work the Kapitan was planning to give? Didn’t you hear what happened?”

The four guys turned to him. “What do you mean?” said Hassan.

“What? You didn’t hear? Tsk. Tsk. Apparently, his men ambushed the brother of Joharto, the Kapitan in the next Bario. He’s probably walking on eggshells right now since they won’t let this slide.” Jomar informed, the new guy. 

Confusion painted on their faces. They looked at each other out of disbelief.

“What? I thought they’re in good terms, what happened?” - Harim spoke, preventing the weird feeling growing in his gut.

Emran rolled his eyes. “It’s probably because of the land the government is planning to provide to the farmers. Looks like they both want  it for themselves.”

Among all of them there, Emran is the most observant. Ever since the government personnel visited their small Bario, there’s been  a shift in the Kapitan’s action.

Contrary to his observant nature, however, Hassan is on the less observant side.

“Why kill for a piece of land?” Hassan asked, confusion clearly displayed on his face. The guys scoffed at him.

“You don’t understand because your family has a ‘piece of land’ idiot.” - Ali whined. “Why bother talking to this dumbo?” he continued.

Hassan’s family is known for having cultivated the same land for generations already. Its been passed down from generations to generations, making them one of the oldest families to have reside in that Bario.

“Seriously, I can’t believe we’re sharing the same well.” Jomar added. “For you information, ‘Hassan, The-Soon-To-Be-Land-Owner’”, these words of praise completely lacked sincerity. “not all of us have land in this Bario. Having a land is a big deal; that basically means you have a stable income.” he continued.

Hassan’s eyebrow twisted. Of course, he knows; he’s not completely oblivious to that fact. “I know that, what I don’t understand is, how can they stomach killing someone for a piece of land when they already have a lot?”

They went silent.   

“Greed, what else? They want to be the richest man in this small place,” Emran explained, turning to him. He continued, “So you, Hassan, should stop hanging out with Ibrahim for the meantime. We don’t want to see you bloodied on the street.” he stated with much seriousness. The others seems to agree as they all looked at him and nodded.

No one said anything after that. Hassan took his toothbrush and start working on himself. He was in deep thought the entire time they were bathing. Until he reached home, he couldn’t stop thinking about Emran’s warning—not because he’s scared, of course. He just doesn’t understand why hanging out with Ibrahim could put him in danger. Why would those people harm someone who’s not involve? Beside, they weren’t old enough to be considered a threat. Why would they bother hurting a teenager? Don’t they have better things to do? He didn’t understand.

Hassan was about to leave the house when his mother called. “Datu!” she yelled. “Stop by Babo Belay’s house and give her this watermelon. I asked her to make an amulet for you and your father. We can at least repay her with this.”

Hassan extended his arm to get the fruit. “Mother, why would you ask for something like that?” he exclaimed, looking irritated.

 “Oh, Silly boy, can’t you see how our Bario is so quite these days? Something is about to happen, and we have to be ready for it.” Slapping Hassan on the back, she stated. “Now go, go. Make sure you wear it when you get it, alright?”

The son pouted and started walking. He woke up feeling pretty good, and now it’s all ruined. Why do they have to say all these things today when clearly his father is out there harvesting crops? This should be a happy day since he’s getting new shoes.

As Hassan thought about his new shoes, a subtle shift in his mood became evident. Feeling so much happier, he starts running to reach Babo Belay’s house. He felt calm by the embrace of the wind, as if validating the happiness he’s feeling at the moment.

He reached the lady’s house short after, it was quite and still, as if she wasn’t around.  Hassan was confused; its unusual because she never goes anywhere.

“Babo? Are you there?” he shouted, looking closely at the small space the bamboo walls couldn’t fill. Her small bamboo house was dark inside; he couldn’t quite see what was in there, but he was sure he once made eye contact with a goat head at the center of her house. It wasn’t until he heard a door opening that Hassan stopped squinting.

Babo Belay is standing there, looking at him sharply. He felt like she was looking straight into his soul. He gulped silently, handed the watermelon to her, and stated. “My mother wants you to have this.  She said thank you.”

His forehead formed sweat. A chill swept through his entire body, leaving him slightly shivering. The old lady did not even blink nor reach for the fruit, instead she looked at him more intensely without saying a word.

A few more seconds passed before she moved, handing him a wooden necklace with an eye-looking pendant. “Wear this wherever you go, give the other one to your father too and don’t stay with someone with something red attached to them”

Hassan politely took the necklace and left, looking at it on his way. He couldn’t deny the shiver he felt; the pendant stared at him the same way the old lady did.

He doesn’t really believe in stuff like this; if its one’s time, its one’s time, and nothing can stop it. Letting out a sigh, he put it on quickly; he can’t have his mother nagging all night for not putting this on. Thinking of his new shoes, Hassan was once again dancing with the wind. Sixteen-year-olds tends to get over things easily.

He arrived at school not long after; everyone was assembled at the flag ceremony, including Ibrahim, who waved at him happily.

“Hurry up! You’ll be late!” Ibrahim yelled cheerfully. Hassan smiled and ran faster toward his friend.

He thought, ‘This is the kind of guy they wanted me to stay away from, ridiculous’

Ibrahim is known for being a cheerful kid; they’ve been friends for a long time. Hassan knows that Ibrahim knows nothing about whatever riot his father is starting. Like what his father always said, ‘The sin of the father cannot be a sin of the child’.

“Dude, Norjana’s coming! How do I look?” Hassan looked at his friend, his frantic expression showing how panicked he was. Looking up and down, he smirked and made a thumbs up.

There was nothing red attached to this guy.

The class ended like usual, nothing new and nothing different. “Didn’t you said your father will buy you a new shoes? What’s the color?” Ibrahim excitedly asked him, thinking of his new shoes; Hassan’s eyes twinkled again.

“I asked for black shoes, of course! I wonder what they look like, I can’t wait to go home” The friends giggled in unison. The resting sun embraces them as they walk outside the school gate.

Among the relationships he developed these past few years, the one with Ibrahim is the most genuine and meaningful one. His father always reminded him to seek for meaningful relationships and treasure them.He didn’t understand it at first; a child basically  knows nothing about the world unless he experiences it himself. Over time, Hassan learned just how important it is, and his father was more than proud.

It was as hectic as always, every single student was excited to go home. Some  were waiting outside the school for their parents to pick them up, while others couldn’t contain the adrenaline and ran on their way.

It was busy; everyone is running around, left, right, front, back.. There was students everywhere, and clearly, the clock was running fast.

Except for Hassan, he was looking somewhere far away. He didn’t know if it was the shiver he felt from Babo Belay’s stare, or the fact that he’s so happy; its strange. But he’s aware of one thing; Emran is running towards him, bawling his eyes out, screaming like a madman. He’d never seen him like this. It scared him, so scared. He couldn’t comprehend what Ibrahim was saying beside him, as if there was no one around but him and his cousin, panting so hard, struggling juts to reach Hassan.

‘Time should stop, I wish time would stop. Time has to stop. Please stop. Please. Please.’

“Home. Now.” Emran ordered, dragging his wrist as they ran like there’s no tomorrow. He doesn’t know what’s going on, nor does he want to know.He don’t wanna know. It scared him. Scared so bad. He wants his father. Father, right, he’s buying new shoes; he’ll be home with his new shoes.

Hassan couldn’t feel his feet anymore. They were running for a long time, yet, their house seems so far away. The rain poured and it feels like it’s punishing him. Every drop of it hurts, but for what? Why would the heavens punish him? He didn’t do anything wrong. Why would the heavens punish him when he did nothing wrong? It doesn’t make sense.

Why do people blame those who are not involve just to let the anger out inside their hearts? Is it so hard to admit that you’re the one in the wrong? What’s so hard about apologizing and talking? Whats too hard about asking for forgiveness and to forgive? His father had always said, “Keep the calmness of your mind; the world can be cruel ,but always choose kindness before anything.” so, why can’t we all just forgive?

On the other side of the Bario, in the middle of the day, while Hassan was in school. Mr. Khilaam asked for Samer’s assistance, he wanted to buy new shoes for his son.

“Bapa Khilaam, what shoes are we looking for? We’ve been going circles! We should really ask for the saleslady’s assistance now.” Samer complained, looking at how silly his uncle is right now. Checking every single shoe his eyes landed on too seriously.

“Shh, don’t bother them. I’m about to find it, just wait a little bit.” Mr. Khilaam replied, looking as intensely as before.

Samer knows how easily his uncle get shy in situations like this. He’d rather circle the place some more than ask for him. But what can he do? It is their job to provide assistance.  

“C’mon you’ve been circling around for like 2 hours now; we really should ask for their help.” he retorded, glancing at the saleslady nearby and shyly gesturing at her. The woman, who seem to be observing them for a while now, smiled and walked toward them.

“Aish, Silly boy!” Mr. Khilaam shoot him with serious face, turned to the woman who came to help. “I-I’m sorry, I am looking for a cool shoe.”

The woman is confuse, “Cool shoe?” she thinks for a moment. “Please wait a second”

Samer chuckled lightly, looked at his uncle with disbelief, seeing how innocent he looks right now he can’t help but smile bitterly, every single  shoes is cool.

Samer patted his Uncle’s arm; he should let it go. “See? Easy, you should thank me; I want a new pack of cigarettes.” he jokingly affirmed.

“Didn’t your mother asked you to stop smoking?” Mr. Khilaam glared at him. He was about to refute when the woman interrupted them carrying two boxes of Nike shoes.

“Thank you for waiting, this is what I think you’re looking for,  a cool shoes” she chuckled lightly and handed them the box. Mr. Khilaam smiled at her and opened the first one, black Nike shoes with an eye-catching design; this is exactly what Hassan is looking for.

He looked at it for a few more seconds; deeply contemplating, he has something else in mind.

He opened the next one; inside was a red Nike shoes with an interesting design. Looking intensely at it, he smiled; this would fit his son perfectly, it may not be black but, he will surely love it. “I would like to buy this” He happily announced. Holding the box firmly as they walk towards the counter.

Samer rolled his eyes at how silly looking he was. If they had just asked for the saleslady’s help, they wouldn’t be going around and wasting so much time. “I’ll make a call for a sec, wait for me outside” he whispered, to which his uncle agreed.

Samer wasn’t oblivious to the eyes that had been watching them for a while. Ever since they set foot in this bario, the number of men around them was weird. It’s as if they were watching and waiting, but for what? He couldn’t remember someone he angered, nor does he know someone his uncle angered. The guy is known for being the kindest man in their bario; why would someone like him make enemies?

He was in deep thought when the shop’s door opened, indicating his uncle was no longer inside the store. He felt his body run cold, throat dry as he watched the door close, before he realized what just happened, before he could do anything.

 A series of gun shot echoed throughout the street.

There were screams everywhere; everyone is on the ground, holding their heads as the gun shots continued for some time. It took a while before it stopped.They shot as if there’s no tomorrow, the level of anger from the hands who pulled those triggers was menacing, they were angry, dangerous and murderous. Shaking uncontrollably, Samer looked for him. The shop was ransacked, the shoes were all over the place, the woman whimpering nearby looking traumatized, next to her is a pair of black shoes. A series of shiver crawled down his spine; his beloved uncle was outside.

Pulling enough courage, he tried to stand. The gun shots stopped, and he heard motorcycles rushly running out. That means they got their target, right? But why is his uncle so quite? Shouldn’t he rush inside and see if he’s doing alright? That’s what uncles do.  

His question was soon answered when he opened the door. Horrified by the sight, he fell on the ground, breathing harshly as his tears streamed down. Samer struggle to contained himself; blood was splattered everywhere, the door is painted with crimson red, a strong scent of blood rushed through his nostril. Right outside was the lifeless body of his uncle, face down, still gripping the handle of the paper bag, bathing on his own blood. He wasn’t even able to protect himself.

His uncle is dead.

Hassan’s heart pumped so hard, Samer sat there as if he lost all hope in humanity, crying uncontrollably right next to Hassan’s mother who, for some reason Hassan cannot comprehend, fainted.

There’s a lot of people inside their small home, crying, shouting, confused, angry, he can’t tell.

“W-What happened? W- why do you look like that?” he pulled all his energy to produce the question; he ran so fast can’t take another step anymore. Looking sharply at Samer, he tried to stand properly.

“U-Uncle is……” Samer choked; his crying intensified so hard he couldn’t breath. He tried to make out a word, but nothing is coming out; all he could do is to cry.

Hassan felt his body shiver, he felt thousand of needles peircing him from within. Looking at Samer strangely, his hands moved on their own, sharp pain ignited on his fist. “What about my father huh?! What about him?! say something!! Where’s my father?!” he shouted, anger and pain intensifying his voice.

Emran stopped him from behind: still crying, he hugged him so hard. “Please stop, my brother is sorry.”

“I- I am sorry, so sorry………………………………………… I-I have to get out of there, s-somehow…………” his voice broke again, his body shakes as his mother hugged him dearly, people started arriving left and right, looking as pained and horrified by the news.

“Please just tell me, where is he?! please….” Hassan pleaded, could no longer contain himself he collapsed on the ground. Emram held him tightly; the house was filled with cries and screams. Hassan’s body hurt so bad, every muscle is on fire, his heart was on fire, it feels like he’s dying. So hot, so empty, so cold, so angry. The last time he saw him was last night; he woke up early to greet him but he’s no longer there. When will he able to greet him a good morning again? He wants to, please. Please.

Tears streamed down Hassan's cheeks as he yearned for his father's embrace, the ache of missing him growing with every passing moment. He wanted him there; he wanted his father to hug him. He’s scared,so scared,  every time he’s scared, his father is always there. Every time his confused, his father is always there. What to do now? Just where is he? He needs him. He needs him.

It took a while before Samer calmed down and start narrating what happened, from the shoes to the closed door, every single letter coming out from his mouth were like a sharp blade stabbing Hassan multiple times. He doesn’t understand; it doesn’t make sense. He was ambushed because he’s from the same bario as the Kapitan? His father is not an acquaintance nor a family; he was an innocent farmer who just happened to be there. He was not related; he was not involved, He's innocent. He was so innocent, truly blameless.  

“W-what does he looked like?” Hassan was in pain than ever before, he tried to remember his fathers face, but for some reason, he couldn’t. The face of the man who raised him is no longer visible in his chaotic mind; he couldn’t think straight. He’s going crazy; he needed the image, he needed his father, he badly needed his father.

Once again, he received an apology from Samer and there continued a sentence he would never forget.  

“Is that him?” Hassan impatiently asked, he held his gun tightly, pointing at the man not so far away from them. For five years, Hassan couldn't shake the memory of the ambush that took his father. The day haunted him, both waking and sleeping. All he could think about is this moment, when the table is turned, when he’s getting his revenge.

“That’s him, that’s him right there.” Emram starts the engine, “Are you sure about this? We can still go back and rethink everything.” this was his last attempt to talk Hassan out of his senses.

For the past five years he witnessed how his cousin changed, he witnessed how he turned into a madman, the innocence was gone and so the loving soul his father cultivated over the years. Observant as he was, he knows by all means, this day will come.

“Do you think I’m not sure?” rage clear on his voice “Emran, let me remind you, they put 19 bullet holes on my father’s body! 19! I will never let this go!!” he pushed Emran from behind, holding his gun tightly, he continued. “They showed him no mercy! No fucking Mercy!” Hassan chokes; “I will understand if he angered them, I will understand if he’d done something wrong, but Emran, my father is innocent. He is fucking innocent! He is innocent!”

Tears once again streamed down his cheeks, marking the pain etched on his face, eyes burning with rage he looked at his target, he once prayed for happiness and lifelong health, its funny how he came from a loving son into a lunatic who knows nothing but to curse the world and god. They made him like this, they will pay for turning him like this, every single one of them. He will curse every single one of them.

Emran couldn’t take it anymore, holding the handlebar he gulped. There’s no stopping Hassan, and he choose to help.

In a blink of an eye, a series of gunshot echoed in the street. He did it. He finally did it.  He shoot them. There’s no coming back, this is his life now, his sole purpose.

He’s ready for their revenge, he knows its coming, it will surely come. What’s important right now, however, is that he got his own.

Hassan ambushed the brother of Kapitan Joharto, in a few days, Kapitan Joharto’s side ambushed an innocent Farmer, and there continued a cycle of never ending revenge on both sides; by the family members, by the ones who lost a loved one, until they no longer care who died. It doesn’t make sense to target the innocent, but when does murder made sense? Common sense doesn’t exist in the eyes of a monster.  

“W-what does he looked like?” Hassan was in pain. Slowly forgetting the face of his father. He cannot bear the  sense of disconnectedness with him.

Once again, Samer apologized, and continued with a sentence he would never forget.