Bounds of Civility
By: RDV
She was acting in good faith when she agreed to meet with her text mate after a month of haphazard communication. Like all victims of this kind of relationship, she fell prey to anonymous attraction and admitted to him, through SMS, that she might be falling in love with him, whom she hadn’t yet seen at the time.
On the day of the rendezvous, she put on her Tommy Girl perfume, her off-shouldered red top and plaited denim mini-skirt to state her exquisite fashion sense. She smiled upon boarding off the MRT. They would meet in Shangri-La, at Starbucks at around seven o’clock at noon. The city was under a cool, windy evening. No signs of rain for later disappointment were making itself known. Everything seemed perfect.
She found him at the meeting place, clad in fitting pants and rock star type shirt. Thank god he didn’t have a bonnet; it would rot her first impression of him. He stood up to greet her. They shook hands and exchanged smiles. At close perusal, he wasn’t someone one could describe as handsome. But his face had a certain charm to it, and his voice, as she had heard him on the phone, was invigorating and lovely. Thus, she passed her judgment on him.
They talked for a while, walked around, had dinner, talked again and did minimal shopping. At ten o’clock they announced that they both had a good time and expressed their wish for a sequel to this meeting. Both agreed, parted and went to bed with unconscious smiles on their faces.
Later, she’d do a horrid confession to him. She already had someone else, her boyfriend of three years. She couldn’t leave him; she loved him too much. In her abundant guilt, tears came running down her cheeks as she pressed the keys of revelation. Her text pal took it lightly, to her surprise. His reply was understanding; he said it was okay. But could they remain friends? Surely. Could they go out sometimes still? Uh, okay.
On Halloween they went out, not in direct relation to dating, but to being good friends. They had a great time at Alabang where children in costumes went out on a trick-or-treat. But they night caught up with them. Her place was several rides away and it would be too dangerous to commute alone, especially for a girl. His apartment, however, was nearby. She could stay for the night; he wouldn’t mind if she didn’t.
After much hesitation, she agreed. She had by then accepted the fact that something might happen, as what happens between a boy and a girl who are alone together. He led her to his abode. For his age, it was a bit extravagant. Sure, it was homely there, and she felt quite certain that he had rich parents. He closed the door behind him. She could feel it, what was bound to happen. He walked towards her. He, alone in the world, was in slow motion as he took slow gaits forward. She hadn’t seated herself on the sofa, since he hadn’t asked her yet to. But now, standing face to face, she felt herself going red all over. His gaze was straight and in contrast, she flinched constantly as though she couldn’t stand being steady.
But then his actions turned weird. He raised his right arm and swung it to her face. She fell onto the floor, too shocked to react.
“You slut, I’ll kill you!”
No longer than a heartbeat passed when he picked her up again, this time, only to give her another blow and another and another, until she lost it altogether. When she woke up she was enclosed in darkness. Groping, she knew that she was inside a movable cabinet. He had stuffed her there. Her whole body was aching, a pitiless bone fracture in her hip forestalling further movements. She closed her eyes, pondering on the folly of her deeds. She presaged what was going to happen to her next. She would be found dead, with a hammock rope tied around her neck. Black and blue bruises covered her body and telltale signs of genital distortions would lead the investigators to conclude that she had been raped. A corpse, a cold, rigid, defiled corpse she would be in no time. Alas, it was a one-way ticket to purgatory.
She tried to moderate her breathing; even the oxygen inside the cabinet seemed no good for inhaling. In suffocated sobs, with her spirit becoming something outside of herself, she composed herself to absorb the situation. Then slumber and fatigue from hazing took hold of her.
Two days later the authority, with the help of a local, discovered a shattered wooden cabinet at a cliff’s landing. No doubt it had been dropped there from the top. Among the wreck was a body of a young woman in signature clothing and botched makeup. Further studies on the carcass proved that the victim suffered from no sexual assault. She pre-deceased the disposal of the cabinet.
She was acting in good faith when she agreed to meet with her text mate after a month of haphazard communication. Like all victims of this kind of relationship, she fell prey to anonymous attraction and admitted to him, through SMS, that she might be falling in love with him, whom she hadn’t yet seen at the time.
On the day of the rendezvous, she put on her Tommy Girl perfume, her off-shouldered red top and plaited denim mini-skirt to state her exquisite fashion sense. She smiled upon boarding off the MRT. They would meet in Shangri-La, at Starbucks at around seven o’clock at noon. The city was under a cool, windy evening. No signs of rain for later disappointment were making itself known. Everything seemed perfect.
She found him at the meeting place, clad in fitting pants and rock star type shirt. Thank god he didn’t have a bonnet; it would rot her first impression of him. He stood up to greet her. They shook hands and exchanged smiles. At close perusal, he wasn’t someone one could describe as handsome. But his face had a certain charm to it, and his voice, as she had heard him on the phone, was invigorating and lovely. Thus, she passed her judgment on him.
They talked for a while, walked around, had dinner, talked again and did minimal shopping. At ten o’clock they announced that they both had a good time and expressed their wish for a sequel to this meeting. Both agreed, parted and went to bed with unconscious smiles on their faces.
Later, she’d do a horrid confession to him. She already had someone else, her boyfriend of three years. She couldn’t leave him; she loved him too much. In her abundant guilt, tears came running down her cheeks as she pressed the keys of revelation. Her text pal took it lightly, to her surprise. His reply was understanding; he said it was okay. But could they remain friends? Surely. Could they go out sometimes still? Uh, okay.
On Halloween they went out, not in direct relation to dating, but to being good friends. They had a great time at Alabang where children in costumes went out on a trick-or-treat. But they night caught up with them. Her place was several rides away and it would be too dangerous to commute alone, especially for a girl. His apartment, however, was nearby. She could stay for the night; he wouldn’t mind if she didn’t.
After much hesitation, she agreed. She had by then accepted the fact that something might happen, as what happens between a boy and a girl who are alone together. He led her to his abode. For his age, it was a bit extravagant. Sure, it was homely there, and she felt quite certain that he had rich parents. He closed the door behind him. She could feel it, what was bound to happen. He walked towards her. He, alone in the world, was in slow motion as he took slow gaits forward. She hadn’t seated herself on the sofa, since he hadn’t asked her yet to. But now, standing face to face, she felt herself going red all over. His gaze was straight and in contrast, she flinched constantly as though she couldn’t stand being steady.
But then his actions turned weird. He raised his right arm and swung it to her face. She fell onto the floor, too shocked to react.
“You slut, I’ll kill you!”
No longer than a heartbeat passed when he picked her up again, this time, only to give her another blow and another and another, until she lost it altogether. When she woke up she was enclosed in darkness. Groping, she knew that she was inside a movable cabinet. He had stuffed her there. Her whole body was aching, a pitiless bone fracture in her hip forestalling further movements. She closed her eyes, pondering on the folly of her deeds. She presaged what was going to happen to her next. She would be found dead, with a hammock rope tied around her neck. Black and blue bruises covered her body and telltale signs of genital distortions would lead the investigators to conclude that she had been raped. A corpse, a cold, rigid, defiled corpse she would be in no time. Alas, it was a one-way ticket to purgatory.
She tried to moderate her breathing; even the oxygen inside the cabinet seemed no good for inhaling. In suffocated sobs, with her spirit becoming something outside of herself, she composed herself to absorb the situation. Then slumber and fatigue from hazing took hold of her.
Two days later the authority, with the help of a local, discovered a shattered wooden cabinet at a cliff’s landing. No doubt it had been dropped there from the top. Among the wreck was a body of a young woman in signature clothing and botched makeup. Further studies on the carcass proved that the victim suffered from no sexual assault. She pre-deceased the disposal of the cabinet.
posted by Ria D. at
10:48 PM
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