"Ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan." (The youth is the hope of the nation.)

– Dr. Jose P. Rizal

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[Capítulo Dos: Ang Pagdating sa Nakaraan (Arrival at the Past]

"DIYOS ko po. Ano kaya ang nangyari sa kanila (My God. What happened to them)?" echoed a woman's voice inside my mind. Despite the desire to rise, my body remained grounded. The sound of my own breath caught in the air, but soon, everything faded to black.

.

MY body gradually awoke, sensations spreading as I emerged from the dream world, akin to the aftermath of an overtime work session. Relief flooded my consciousness as I whispered, "It was just a dream."

Yet, as my eyes fluttered open, the sense of relief dissipated. Instead, I found myself in a different room. Taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, I realized I lay on a wooden bed, a soft white pillow cradling my head.

"Maybe we moved to another location?" I mused, attempting to rise. However, a sharp pain from my right shoulder jolted me, forcing a groan to escape before I could fully move.

"Hindi ka pa magaling, Hijo (You're still not fine, child)." Eyes widening, I beheld a woman approaching, her visage mirroring the one from the bridge. Worry etched across her face, she reached me and gently placed her hands on both my shoulders, a tangible expression of concern.

"Marapat lamang na mahiga ka na lamang muna (It would be better if you lay down for now)," she replied, her voice swaying me like a hammock. It felt like a lullaby, soothing the recent loneliness and anxious thoughts that had gripped my world.

She, a woman in her mid-forties, stood before me, clad in attire reminiscent of what Filipinos wore during the production of our television series.
"Where am I?" I questioned, seeking clarity in the midst of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Hindi ko mawari kung ano ang iyong sinabi. Maaari bang itanong kung saan ka nagmula (I couldn't understand what you just spoke. Can I ask where you are from)?" she inquired, standing before me with a puzzled expression, scrutinizing me from head to toe.

Her words mirrored my own confusion. I wished to comprehend her, but the comprehension eluded me at the moment.

As my mind slowly grasped the unfolding situation, the pain in my right shoulder intensified. Glancing down, I realized I wore the same clothing from the night of the shooting.

"It's not a dream?" My heart raced, and my breath quickened once more, a familiar and unsettling sensation akin to that strange feeling on the bridge.

Memories flashed before my eyes, each frame tinged with horror. The recollection of the bullet striking me played vividly, the sharp pain etched in my mind.

Taking off my coat, I carefully folded the white long sleeves beneath it, revealing a bluish spot where the pain had originated. The realization of the near miss left a lingering sense of astonishment and relief.

"Ayos ka lamang ba, Hijo (Are you alright, child)?" I could hear the lady's voice, but the sound of my own breath catching took precedence.

Scanning the room once more, my gaze settled on the girl I had saved from those men-in-black. A wave of relief swept over me, calming the frantic rhythm of my breath.

"Iiwan ko muna kayo. May titingnan muna ako sa ibaba (I will leave you for now. I will just check something downstairs)," the woman said in her soft voice before descending the staircase.

My mind struggled to grasp her words, but her gesture toward the stairs indicated her departure. With a slight bow, I acknowledged her, and she responded with a radiant smile before leaving, leaving just the two of us in the room.

My gaze shifted toward the full moon overhead. It resembled the same moon from the bridge, yet it carried a different essence.

"Where really am I?"

The woman's speech differed from the Filipinos I encountered during the television series shooting months ago. Noticing her distinct attire, reminiscent of what my grandmother spoke of in my youth, added to the mystery.

Turning my attention to the sleeping lady, seemingly untouched by recent events, doubt crept in. What if it was all just a nightmare?

"You look beautiful, but you're crazy!" Seeing her safe felt akin to imagining my complete family again, replacing the frequent loneliness. The sentiment leaned more towards teasing than romance, given her sleeping state.

Sitting beside her with care, I sensed an enigma about her that eluded my understanding.

"You're not so bad when you're sleeping," I whispered, annoyance outweighing any affection.

Memories of my grandmother surfaced, recalling her caring ways when I was unwell. My hand reached toward her nose, a nostalgic touch. "I hope you'll be fine soon because I don't want to be responsible for you."

Nostalgia overwhelmed me, and I was about to touch her nose when I snapped back to reality. The peculiar notion was ready to be abandoned when her eyelids moved. A groan escaped her, reminiscent of reluctance to wake up for school. In a fleeting moment, her eyes flew open, catching me off guard.

"Ah! May panot na hilaw (There's a creep)!" she shouted, clutching the white blanket tightly to her chest. Her eyes widened, a visible skip in her heartbeat.

"It's not what you are thinking! Just calm down!" I responded, my hands waving in the air, a futile attempt to convey my innocence.

Her gaze darted toward the blanket, suspicion lingering.

"Do you feel anything weird? Are you feeling alright?" I asked, my concerned voice revealing a sincerity I hadn't used in a long time.

"Ah! 'Yung fake nails ko (My fake nails)!" she shouted, pushing herself up the bed.

"Fake nails? What do you mean?" I was surprised that she seemed more concerned about her nails than her well-being.

Paused, I observed her focus on her fingernails, realizing they were fake. Questions swirled in my mind. Despite being more severely injured than me, she appeared unaffected. Perhaps it was all part of my ongoing nightmare, a new scene in our television series.

"My fake nails!" she groaned again, seemingly feigning distress.

"You've almost died, and yet you care more about your fake nails? What a crazy lady!" I whispered to myself. My initial concern waned, unable to maintain a facade of gentleness in the face of her seemingly misplaced priorities.

"My fake nails gave by my fan, arghhh. Stop english! Kung maiintindihan mo man ito 'yung understanding mo na lang mag-adjust (My fake nails given by my fan, arghhh. Stop using English! If you can comprehend what I'm stating, then you should adjust your own understanding)," she explained, accompanying her words with gestures.

Rarely hearing her speak English on our set, her sudden switch left me feeling perplexed. Instead of annoyance, a trace of amusement flickered within me, tempted to laugh at her less-than-perfect use of words.

"Kasi 'yung fan ko na 'yon pinag-ipunan 'yung fake nails na 'yon. Nag-research pa siya ng favorite kong design na magugustuhan ko. Even if she can't afford the price of that fake nails, binili pa rin niya kasi she know na magugustuhan ko 'yun (It's because that fan of mine worked hard for those fake nails. He even researched my favorite design that I would surely love. Even if he can't afford the price of those fake nails, he still buys them for me as a token)."

She gazed at me while speaking, maintaining her fake crying. Tears welled in her eyes, a likely result of her portrayal of a child as scripted in the scene.

"Pero nag-disappear na (But it already disappeared)," she continued. Her gaze returned to her nails, and her lips formed a pout reminiscent of a child who had lost a toy.

Gradually, I attempted to piece together the unfolding details. One moment, we stood on a bridge illuminated by fireworks, and now, we found ourselves in an entirely different setting.

"So you are not feeling anything wrong? Maybe... on your chest?" I inquired once more, seeking clarification.

"My chest? May ginawa ka bang masama sa akin (Did you do anything bad to me)?" Her eyes widened as she clutched the pillow close.

"Why? Are you feeling anything bad?" I inquired, attempting to understand the source of her distress.

"Anong nakain nito (What did this man eat)?!" she gasped. "Pervert!"

In an instant, our eyes widened in mutual shock. Did she just call me a pervert?

"If you are thinking that I did wrong to you or your... your chest, I didn't do anything!" I explained, frustration simmering within me.

"Stay away! Don't come near me!" she ordered.

Before I could offer another explanation, a familiar voice interrupted, imposing a sudden stillness upon the room.

"Gising ka na pala, Hija. Kumusta ang iyong pakiramdam (You're awake, child. How are you feeling)?"

When I glanced behind me, the woman had returned. Her gaze met Marianne's, and a smile from her seemed to bring Marianne back to reality.

"Okay naman po. Beriguds (I'm okay. Slang: Very good)," she replied with a thumbs up.

"Hindi ko mawari ang iyong isinambit. Ano nga uli iyon (I couldn't understand what you just said. What is that again)?" A sense of relief and amusement crept into my heart, realizing that even the more traditional lady couldn't comprehend the unfamiliar language.

"Wala po. Ang ganda mo po, Ate. Ano pong gamit mong sabon (Nothing. Your beautiful, Ate. What soap are you using)?" Marianne replied, seemingly making a playful remark.

I grappled with a mix of confusion and a hint of joy in that moment.

There was something peculiar and amazing about this place. Despite the pressure I felt in my body, an unexplainable happiness persisted within me.

𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝙹𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚓𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚎

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