TO KILL IS TO SERVE

Chapter 20: A Child's Rights

(a)  Every kid was given equal rights: to be born well, and to be cared and raised well;

“Don’t go home until 11, okay?”

“Again, mom? But 11PM is too late—”

“Just don’t go home until 11PM, child. Listen to mommy, okay?”

I leaned against the post while waiting for the clock to tick 11PM, getting all cold. I know how and why this works. This is my mother’s way of keeping me out of the house while my stepfather beats and batters her to death. She doesn’t want me to see the scene because she believes I am too young for that but she will never know what happens to me every time I’m out of the house this late. I was not in any better position than her. Okay fine, probably just a bit better than hers.

“Look, it’s that kid!”

“Ah, yes, he’s Bruno’s younger brother, right?”

“Bruno’s stepbrother, bro.”

“Bruno’s been annoying us lately, right? Why don’t we have it our way with his stepbrother?”

Right after my mother let me out of her womb, my father had a heart attack, leaving us both alone. When I turned to six, my mother then, remarried to one of her bar customers and now, this so-called stepfather, Bryan, brought his son to our home, Bruno.

Life was hell since then. Mother’s began being beaten up after a year, every time Bryan is drunk, and even I, myself, cannot escape—not from Bryan, but from Bruno, his sixteen-year old son and Bruno’s enemies.

“Ah, it’s 11PM, I’m going home.” I stood up from the muddy ground with body almost beaten up to death. I wiped my own blood from my cut lower lip. It’s strange. It hurts lesser and lesser as time goes by and I am also getting accustomed to punches already.

“Where are you going, you mutt? Go back here and let us kill you!”

But even though it hurts less and I’m already used to it, it still hurts. It’s still there. The pain and misery are still there.

(b)  To live with a family, who loves, cares and teaches good morals to him or her;

“Dad, this sorry stepson of yours got home just now.”

Ah, what a blabbermouth. I wanted to say out loud but the sight of my bloody mother stopped me from opening my mouth. I think it started this time—I started loathing pitiful-looking women this time. My mother was no exception; for she is the first woman I hated looking so pathetic.

“No, Bry–Bryan! I told him to buy something from the—”

“Shut up, you good-for-nothing b***h!”

And a hard slap meeting my mother’s gentle face echoed our humble home. Bryan drew closer to me after slapping my mother, blabbering things I cannot hear anymore. I cannot hear anything but my heart racing loudly. I can see nothing but my mom crawling and hugging my stepfather’s legs to stop him from nearing me. I can feel nothing but the pain those bastards left me.

Ah, mother, why do you look like you’re begging a monster? You chose this, didn’t you? Ah, I think I am thinking in a way a demon would… Ah, I f*****g hate this. I f*****g hate it. I am sorry, mother, but I f*****g hate how everything is, right now.

“Are you listening to dad, you brat?”

And I was awoken to the reality when my head banged against the wall after I was kicked roughly by Bruno from behind. My mother cried, maybe asking for forgiveness for putting me into this misery.

But no cry and no sorry can make up for everything that they’ve done and everything that they did to you, mom… Nothing can make them stop but death.

(c)  To have proper care and importance from other people;

“Look at that kid. He seemed beaten badly.”

“Honey, don’t look. He’s just one of those gangs who will stick to you, acting all chummy and helpless, but is actually robbing you already.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Wow! That was cruel. I already felt bad. I almost got fooled.”

No one has ever looked at me with genuine love and feeling. All I ever lived with is hatred, pity and disgust. This is the reality I am into because of those monsters. Did I want this? f*****g no. My blood is boiling whenever I see eyes looking at me like I am the monster. I want to gouge those eyes out.

I am not a monster, right? I am not a demon either, right?

(d)  To be protected from abuse of adults;

“Bastard, why are you sleeping in there?”

I flinched when Bruno kicked me, twice. I can hear his friend laughing and cheering him for being a domineering brother. He pulled my hair up, sitting me down. This is my house in the first place, why is he always acting so high and mighty? He sucks. He f*****g sucks at every angle.

(e)  To have the basic needs of people such as food, shelter, water, clothing and health care;

“Wake up, you worthless s**t! My friends are going to sleepover, so you sleep in the sofa or just outside! Don’t you ever touch the food in the fridge as well, okay? Those aren’t yours.”

All he does is to cuss all day. He doesn’t even sound cool that way. What more does he want, aside from sounding cheap? Again, he f*****g sucks.

(f)   To have everything he or she needs for a better life;

“Bruno, here is your allowance for a week.”

My mother handed Bruno her last money. She was never willing to give it all out, but she’s scared of what her stepson is going to do to her. She is so miserable that a sight of her makes me want to vomit. How can she look so pitiable when she’s the one who put us in this situation?

Bruno looked down on my mother, spitting his saliva as he demands for more. My weakly birth mom just bowed at him, apologizing for giving too little. Bruno eventually left, cursing.

She looked at me, again with her miserable and sorry eyes. She will say it now. She will apologize to me now, after seven years of hell, she will do it now.

“Son, I’m sorry I cannot give you anything right now. I’m sorry.”

Ah, yes, of course, she thought crying will help soothe the pain of all my bruises and scars.

I smiled, nodding. “It’s not like I need anything, mom.” And this is the first time, I think, where I have learned how to hide my bloodlust and hatred for the benefit of someone important to me.

Good thing you still see me as your son. But I did not speak. I dare not to inflict more pain to her. I suppressed the pain I have to myself. We both have equal space in this hell.

(g)  To be educated;

“Don’t you have class, kid? What grade are you in?”

I just continued mixing cement without even shifting my focus after getting asked randomly by a stranger passing by.

“You’re only 13 or 14, right? Why are you working in a place like this instead of attending your classes? Are your parents aware of this?”

I’ve been hearing these questions for countless times already. Can’t just people see it? Are they this dense? Is this how people capable of living without shedding sweat acts?

“Kid, can’t you hear—”

“I’ve never been to school since first grade.” I stopped him from asking more while still doing work. “I’ve never had any rights to.” I am speaking facts. Those monsters took my rights to even sleep peacefully.

My blood boils just by thinking of them. I better not think of them at work for it might ruin the business.

(h)  To play and enjoy whenever they have the opportunity;

“Why, kid? You should be playing or studying right now, why do you say that you have no rights to do so?”

Ah, ever so meddlesome.

“I just cannot. I need to work and help my mother.”

“Where is you da—”

But he stopped when I raised my eyes, glaring at him. He’s been snooping and prying too much on someone who’s trying to work in order to f*****g live.

“He’s dead. I live with my mother and two monsters now.” And now I even said it out loud. Their faces instantly flashed in my head. I feel nauseous I want to vomit in disgust.

(i)    To live peacefully away from bad influences;

He chuckled on my reply. I got back to shovelling and stopped minding him after completely recollecting my peaceful thoughts. But he leaned closer and his breath made me stop moving. He is not doing anything but just breathing beside me, yet his aura is terrifying. Who is this monster? I feel like he’s on a higher rank than those step-monsters at home. Is he a real demon?

“Do you know what to do with monsters, boy?”

“W–what?” I stuttered while trying to breathe normally. I held my shovel’s handle firmly.

“You s***h their necks.” He whispered to me, sending cold shivers down to my spine.

(j)    To be cared whenever their parents are not available or cannot sustain their needs;

“W–what do you mean?”

My heartbeat began rising, not of nervousness, but of adrenaline because of what I just heard. I feel like someone finally got me. He suddenly stopped seeming like a monster or a demon to me; he is more like a god now. I cannot feel his piercingly disgusting glares on me or any negative comments about my state. Gods do not condemn, that I believe. Then, he is a god… probably.

“You kill them, boy. You do this.”

And like a snake, his hand that was just on his pocket crawled up to my neck, wringing it. I was suddenly out of breath until my eyes were filled with tears. For the first time, I felt fear that even those monsters at home cannot infuse in me. I tried pulling his hands off but he’s too strong. It took me just ten seconds until my legs turn wobbly. He released me after, but that was too much for me to fight back anymore. I cried and slumped on the ground, clearing my throat. But those were tears of ecstasy and not of fear.

(k)  To be living in a good government who helps them strengthen their faith and to become better citizens;

“Kid, you need to do that because no one else can help you.”

He sat down in front of me, with eyes not of pity but of malice. Those are the most beautiful pair of eyes I have ever seen my whole life. They don’t have anything but bloodlust.

“There is no God who will hear you out. There is not religion that will drive you out of that pain. The Government will never give a s**t about what’s happening to you unless you have money to give. Kid, you need to break free yourself before they break you first.”

I stayed silent and unconsciously started to listen to him. He said that there is no God but there he is, salvaging me.

“Call me anytime if you did well, kid. I will come to your rescue.” He handed me a business card and I tried to read what’s written on it but I unfortunately can’t.

“Who—” And before I could even ask, I’ve lost a sight of him already. He came like a flash flood, saturating me with everything and went like a breeze, fast but certainly chilly.

(l)    And to grow up peacefully and getting what they want for the good of their lives.

I went home, still feeling the pain on my neck and the ecstatic adrenaline on my soul. I felt like I just received salvation from a passer-by.

“Bryan, no—”

The first thing that I saw was my stepfather, pointing his knife on my mother and my mother’s desperate cry.

Ah, I unquestionably need to be salvaged from this hell.

-

It took their mouths a minute to foam after taking a bite from the food I cooked and served. Both of their bodies fell on the cold floor, trembling. Mother rushed to my stepdad, shaking him, and turned to Bruno, doing the same thing. I stood up and picked up their plates, and then I threw their food on the sink and their plates out of the window.

I can still hear my mom crying, asking what has happened.

“Strychnine, mom, from pesticides.” I smiled at her as soon as I sat in front of my stepfamily’s soon-to-be-corpses and watched my mother’s forever miserable state. “I did well, didn’t I?”

Her pupils dilated and her hand began shaking. I saw it—those eyes that only strangers used to glare at me were visible to my mother’s this time. “Y-you killed them?” She asked, still crying.

“Yeah!” I answered in bliss and smiled genuinely.

But those eyes of hatred and pity turned into something more that I couldn’t put my hands into right as of that time. However, I knew that she just labelled me as a murderer with her eyes. My own old lady labelled me as a murderer, instead of savior, after saving her from that hell.

Perhaps it was this time I started seeing people’s thoughts and judgments based on how they look at me.