E 1: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
1900 Words
(Eizzel's POV – First Person)
I grew up in Camiguin Island
People say it’s beautiful here. They talk about the beaches, the cold springs, the mountains. Tourists come and take pictures like everything is perfect.
But they don’t see how people really live.
They don’t see houses like ours.
In Barangay Bonbon, Catarman, my family has been living for years. Even before I was born, this was already our home. My mom used to live here when she was still young, when life was even simpler.
Now, it’s still simple.
But not in a good way.
Our house is old. You can tell just by looking at it. The roof is made of thin rusted tin, and every time the wind blows, it makes a loud noise like it’s about to fly away.
When it rains, we don’t just listen to the sound.
We feel it.
Water drips from the roof, slowly at first, then faster. We place basins, pails, anything we can find just to catch the leaks. Sometimes, we run out of containers, and the floor gets wet anyway.
There were nights when I woke up because water was already near my pillow.
We don’t complain anymore.
We’re used to it.
The walls are made of cement, but they’re full of cracks. Some parts look like they might break anytime. My father tries to fix them, but repairs only last for a while.
Still, we stay.
Because this is our home.
Because we have nowhere else to go.
My grandparents built this house.
I never got to know them well. Both sides of my family are gone now. But even if they’re not here anymore, their house is still standing.
And so are we.
Barely.
But still here.
We’re not rich.
Not even close.
My parents didn’t finish school. Life didn’t give them that chance. They had to work early, had to survive instead of studying.
My father, Danny, works as a construction driver. He’s been doing it for years. Every morning, he wakes up before the sun rises. Sometimes I hear him moving around while it’s still dark.
He eats quickly, prepares his things, and leaves.
By the time he comes home, he looks tired.
Not just tired.
Exhausted.
But he never says it.
He just sits quietly, washes up, eats dinner, and rests. Then the next day, he does the same thing again.
Over and over.
For us.
My mother, Erin, stays at home.
Some people think staying at home is easy.
It’s not.
She wakes up early too. Prepares food, cleans the house, washes clothes, makes sure we’re okay. Even when we don’t have much, she finds a way to make it enough.
I don’t know how she does it.
But she does.
Every day.
There are three of us siblings.
My older brother, Ares.
Me.
And my younger brother, Alex.
Ares is ten years older than me. When I was younger, I used to look up to him. He felt like someone strong. Someone who would help our parents, someone who would change our life.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Then there’s me.
The only girl.
The second child.
The one who learned how to stay quiet.
And Alex.
He’s still young. Still in elementary. He doesn’t understand everything yet. He laughs easily, plays outside, doesn’t think too much about problems.
Sometimes I wish I was still like that.
Right now, I’m a senior high school student.
Graduating soon.
In other families, that might not mean much.
But in ours, it means everything.
Because school is our only chance.
Our only way out.
My parents always say the same thing.
“Mag-aral kayo mabuti.”
Study well.
Finish school.
Get a better life.
It sounds simple.
But it’s not.
Because before me, there was Ares.
He was their first hope.
Their first dream.
They believed he would finish school first. That he would help them, help us. That he would lift our family out of this life.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he got married.
Left the house.
Changed his religion.
Chose a different life.
A life that didn’t include us.
I still remember when it happened.
No shouting.
No big fight.
Just silence.
The kind of silence that feels heavy.
My mother didn’t cry in front of him.
But I heard her that night.
Quiet.
Trying not to make a sound.
My father didn’t say much.
He just accepted it.
Like he always does.
After that, everything changed.
The house felt quieter.
Empty in a way I couldn’t explain
.
And the expectations—
they shifted.
Now, it’s on me.
And Alex.
But mostly me.
Because I’m next.
Because I’m older.
Because I’m supposed to succeed.
My father still believes things will get better.
He talks about it sometimes.
A better house.
A stable life.
No more leaks when it rains.
No more worrying about money.
He believes we can give that to him.
To our family.
That’s why he keeps working.
Even when he’s tired.
Even when his body clearly needs rest.
Even when the money he earns is barely enough.
He doesn’t stop.
And me?
I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.
But I don’t have a choice.
Because in a life like ours—
you don’t get to choose what you carry.
You just learn how to carry it.
Sometimes, I sit outside the house and look at the sky.
It looks peaceful.
Like everything is okay.
Like life is easy.
But I know it’s not.
This is my life.
Simple.
Hard.
Real.
And maybe…
this is where everything starts
----------------------------------------------------------------
MONDAY MORNING
I woke up early
Not because I wanted to.
But because I had to.
“Eizzel, wake up,” Mama called from the kitchen.
Her voice was soft, but enough to pull me out of sleep.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment.
There it was again.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Water leaking from the same spot since last night.
Like it never stops.
Like it doesn’t get tired.
I sighed and slowly got up.
Another day.
Another fight.
I got ready quickly.
Same uniform I always wear. Clean, ironed, but clearly old.
Same bag.
Almost empty.
Same allowance that sometimes lasts, sometimes doesn’t.
When I stepped outside my room, Papa was already there.
Sitting quietly, drinking coffee.
“You’re early today,” he said.
I just nodded.
I was never really talkative in the morning.
“Be careful,”he added.
“Yes, Pa,” I replied.
Simple.
That’s just how we were.
No long conversations.
No unnecessary words.
But somehow, it was still enough.
When I stepped outside the house, the wind greeted me.
Cool.
Quiet.
Like the world had no problems at all.
But I knew better.
I walked to school like I always did.
Ten minutes from home.
Same path.
Same houses.
Same everything.
Maybe to other people, it looked like I was doing fine.
I mean… I was graduating soon.
That should mean something, right?
It should mean I was happy.
And yes… I was, somehow.
I was going to college after this.
A new chapter.
A new beginning.
But deep inside, something heavier sat in my chest.
Fear.
Fear of responsibility.
Fear that I might fail.
Fear that I might disappoint my parents.
I don’t want to end up like Ares.
My older brother.
The one I can’t even think about without feeling something I can’t explain.
I am not beautiful.
I am not sexy.
I am not tall.
I’m just… ordinary.
The kind of girl people notice, but not in a good way.
Mostly because of how I look.
Chubby.
Acne on my face.
And according to others, that’s enough reason to judge me.
“Miserable.”
“Ugly.”
“Chubby.”
I’ve heard it all before.
I’m used to it now.
Even if it still stings sometimes.
They say I’m fair-skinned, but that doesn’t matter much to them.
It never really did.
I’m known in school.
Yes.
But not for something good.
I’m known as the joke.
The girl people laugh at when she walks by.
I can’t control what they think.
And I’ve stopped trying.
It’s easier that way.
Silence is safer.
I stopped walking when I noticed the cars slowing down.
Then I realized I was already in front of the school gate.
Monday.
Flag ceremony day.
I waited for the ceremony to finish before entering.
The guard checked students for complete uniforms and IDs.
I was fine, so I got inside easily.
But the moment I stepped in—
I felt it again.
The stares.
The whispers.
The quiet laughter.
Same thing every day.
“Good morning, Ma’am Anne,”I greeted my former teacher.
She nodded at me, but then her eyes shifted behind me.
“Oh! Mr. Roque! Long time no see!”
My body froze slightly.
There was laughter behind me.
A familiar one.
Deep and confident.
“Good morning, Ma’am Anne. Yes, it’s been a long time,” he replied.
“I just came to visit the school.”
That voice…
I knew it.
Even if I hadn’t heard it in a long time.
I forced myself to smile a little, but I didn’t let it show too much.
I probably looked stupid smiling like that anyway.
People like me aren’t supposed to smile too much.
It makes everything worse.
“Oh, I think I know who that is,” Ma’am Anne said teasingly.
“Really, Ma’am? Everyone seems to know already. That’s embarrassing,” he replied, laughing.
“Of course! It’s all over the school,” she said.
“Wow, Ma’am,” he laughed again.
And for some reason, I smiled a little more.
Because I thought—
Maybe I was the one they were talking about.
Maybe he came for me.
Maybe—
“Dalton?”
I stopped walking.
My breath hitched slightly.
“Oh my gosh, you’re really here!”
I didn’t turn around right away.
But I already knew.
Dalton.
That name alone was enough to make people react.
“Ah, there you are! The one you came to visit,” Ma’am Anne joked. “I’ll leave you two. You’d look better together in person. Fans might even start shipping you two.”
I blinked.
Fans?
Shipping?
What?
“Hi, Callice,” Dalton said. “Of course, I can’t disappoint them.”
That was when I finally turned my head.
And I saw her.
Callice.
Beautiful.
Smart.
Talented.
The kind of girl who seemed to have everything together without even trying.
She was the student council president.
Perfect grades.
Perfect image.
Perfect everything.
And Dalton was looking at her like she was the only person in the hallway.
My chest tightened a little.
I don’t even know why.
Maybe I shouldn’t have expected anything.
Maybe I just misunderstood.
“EIZZEL! COME ON, WE HAVE A QUIZ WITH SIR MAR!”
Zena’s voice suddenly broke the moment.
She was already on the second floor, waving at me.
I blinked again.
Right.
School.
Reality.
I was still here.
Still me.
Still invisible.
I turned away slowly.
Not because of the quiz.
But because staying there hurt more than leaving.
I walked forward without looking back.
Same path.
Same faces.
Same routine.
But something inside me felt different.
Like something small had shifted.
And I didn’t know yet…
if that was a good thing or not.
- Writer
