WHEN SILENCE BLEEDS

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGINNING

Our life was simple,quiet, without anything grand, but just enough to get through each day.

But my childhood memories… they were not like others happy, filled with play, laughter, and joy. Mine was different. It was heavy, painful, and something I could never forget. Sometimes, I wished everything that happened was just my imagination, but it wasn’t. It was real.

When my mother gave birth to my eldest sibling, she and my father were overjoyed. They were so happy to have their first child. Full of dreams, full of promises. But that happiness didn’t last, because soon after, my mother got pregnant again… and that was me.

That’s when everything started to fall apart. Mama and Papa began fighting every day, over the smallest things that grew into bigger issues. But the most painful of all, my father didn’t want me. He didn’t want me to be born, he refused to accept me. Out of anger, he even hurt my mother physically, and nearly forced her to get rid of me. But by God’s grace, that didn’t happen. I survived.

After endless days of fighting, they eventually separated. Mama decided to leave, carrying with her a heavy heart. When I was born, she had no choice but to work in Manila. She left us in the care of my grandmother, so she could take care of me and my older brother, while Mama worked tirelessly in the city just to provide for us.

For a while, I could say that life was fine. Simple, peaceful, content. Grandma was kind, and my older brother was always there for me. And even though Mama wasn’t with us, I could still feel her love every night whenever she called to check on us.

But everything changed after five years.

One day, Mama suddenly came back… and she was with Papa. They had reconciled. And that’s when my real nightmare began.

I thought that finally, our family would be whole again. I thought, maybe this time, things would be better. But I was wrong. His return wasn’t to give love, but to bring back all the pain. Every night, I would hear them fighting. Mama crying, Papa shouting, things breaking. And with every scream I heard, I felt like I was the reason.

But my nightmare didn’t end there.

When Papa came back, I slowly began to experience abuse. Not just yelling. Not just hitting. Something worse. I was touched in ways no child should ever experience, s***** harassment from the very person who was supposed to protect me. I never told anyone, not even Mama. It never reached the point of r***, but every night I cried in fear. I would fall asleep clutching my blanket tightly, praying that when I opened my eyes, he would no longer be there beside me.

The years passed, but I carried that secret with me, a burden too heavy for a child. As their fights grew worse, I, too, was slowly breaking inside.