I was woken up by the noise around me.
Cars honking. Motorcycles coming and going. People murmuring—some shouting faintly in the distance. Despite the chaos, something else pulled at my senses: the smell of home-cooked food.
The aroma lingered in the air, soft and inviting. It seeped into my nose, made my stomach grumble and my mouth water almost instinctively. I didn't recognize the scent, not really—but somehow, it felt like home.
I sat down and looked out through a rusting, grilled open window.
The sun was already high in the sky, its rays spilling into the room and burning my pale skin—now tinged slightly red from the heat.
I pulled the fabric over my arms to shield myself from the sun, then turned my gaze back outside, quietly observing the chaos—or rather, the oddly peaceful chaos—unfolding beyond the window.
Children in white blouses and striped green skirts, likely a uniform, walked along the sidewalk with bags slung over their backs. Some were accompanied by adults—probably their guardians. Across the street, directly in front of my window, an elderly man sat on a wooden veranda, a piece of paper in his hand, rocking slowly in what humans call a rockingchair.
It was all so different from where I came from. So very different.
"Oh, gising ka na pala." (Oh, you're already awake.)
I snapped back to my senses and looked toward the door, where Hosana—AlingHosana, as they called her—had just entered.
She was wearing a faded, flowery loose dress they called a duster. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, with strands falling over her sweaty forehead. Her hands were wet, probably from washing something.
Wiping them on her dress, she said, "Halika na at kumain. Luto na ang pagkain." (Come now and eat. The food is ready.)
I tilted my head slightly, not understanding every word.
She scratched her head, looking unsure for a moment, then brought her hand to her mouth—mimicking the motion of eating.
"Uhm, ano... eat," she said, pointing toward the door with a small, awkward smile.
Understanding what she meant, I nodded and gave a small smile.
Slowly, I stood up from the bed and followed her out. In the kitchen, I saw her family already gathered at the dining table.
Her eldest and youngest children were seated on the left side, while Aling Hosana took the empty chair across from her youngest. She then gestured for me to sit beside her.
"Pasensya ka na at ito lang ang ulam ngayon. Ito lang kasi ang nakayanan ng sweldo ko sa paglalaba," (I'm sorry, this is the only dish we have today. It's all I could afford from my laundry earnings.) she said while serving food to her son.
"Ma, hindi ka niya naiintindihan," (Ma, she doesn't understand you.) the eldest, Erica, said.
I looked at her, but she only gave me a scrunched-up look and rolled her eyes before digging into her food.
I didn't mind it, though. Maybe she was just suspicious of me—for suddenly showing up at their home. After all, I was just a strange stranger.
"Ayaw mo ba ng ulam, anak?" (Don't you like the food, dear?) Aling Hosana asked.
I looked at her, puzzled by what she had just said.
She scratched her head again. "Food. You don't like?" she asked, more slowly this time.
I glanced at the food served on the table. A bowl of soup with green leafy vegetables, and beside it, five small fish on a flower-patterned plate.
It wasn't about being picky—it was just that I wasn't used to their food. But when I tasted it, a sudden wave of nostalgia crept into me. It reminded me of the meals Nerisse and I used to cook after fishing back in our world. It didn't taste exactly the same, but the feeling was there.
I smiled—a genuine smile—at Aling Hosana.
She seemed relieved and mimicked an eating gesture again.
So, I followed, placing a bit of rice, the leafy vegetables, and a piece of small fish on my plate, then began to eat.
A slight tightness pressed on my throat as I chewed. The food was good—warm and comforting—but the memories it pulled from me were sharp and aching.
I forced myself to keep eating, swallowing the lump in my throat, and tried not to cry.
After eating, Erica immediately left, saying she needed to go to school and asked her mama, Aling Hosana, for money.
I didn't understand what they were saying exactly, but Erica looked irritated when Aling Hosana handed her a violet-colored paper, looking apologetic as she did. Erica didn't say anything—she just turned her back and walked out.
I feel like Erica wasn't satisfied with what her mother gave her. And seeing Aling Hosana looking so defeated pulled a string in my heart.
My chest ached for her—for some reason I couldn't explain.
While I was sitting on an empty soft chair, watching over Doni—Aling Hosana's youngest child—a man suddenly barged in through the open door.
He looked drunk. His eyes were bloodshot, hair disheveled, and his clothes stained with dirt. One of his footwear was missing.
"Hosana!" he shouted, his voice loud and hoarse, making Doni flinch beside me.
I saw Aling Hosana immediately rush toward the man, looking tense—scared, even.
In almost a month of staying here since I first opened my eyes, I had never seen him. The only people I had met were Aling Hosana, Erica, and Doni. It was peaceful then. Warm, even.
But now, with this man suddenly appearing, it felt like that warmth was on the verge of vanishing.
He reeked of chaos. Of trouble.
"Walang hiya kang babae ka!" (Shameless woman!) the man shouted, and without warning, his palm landed hard on Aling Hosana's cheek.
Doni began to cry. My brows furrowed, and I felt heat surge through me. My blood started to boil from what I had just witnessed. My hands curled into fists, and I was about to stand—
—but Doni clung to me, trembling.
"Diba sinabi ko sa'yo na huwag ka nang lumapit sa asawa ko? Bakit lumalapit-lapit ka pa rin?!" (Didn't I tell you to stay away from my wife? Why do you keep coming near her?!) he roared, voice cracking. "Nang dahil sa'yo, nagkakandaletche-letche ang buhay ko!" (Because of you, my life is a complete mess!)
Then he grabbed a fistful of Aling Hosana's hair and yanked her toward him.
"A-aray... Pedro, nasasaktan ako," (O-ow... Pedro, you're hurting me.) Aling Hosana pleaded, her voice strained from the pain.
Her trembling hands gripped his arm, trying to pull him away. Her cheek was flushed red, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
But the man didn't listen.
Without care, he dragged her toward the kitchen—unbothered by her pain, unbothered by Doni's cries, unbothered by my presence. He just dragged her away like she was nothing.
"Hindi pa ba sapat ang perang binibigay ko, ha? Kailangan mo pa talagang magpakita sa asawa ko!" (Is the money I give you not enough? Do you still really have to show yourself to my wife?) he spat, voice loud and cruel as he yanked the kettle from the stove.
My stomach dropped. The moment I saw what he held, my mind began to spiral. I could sense what he was trying to do.
"Pedro, huwag..." (Pedro, don't.) Aling Hosana pleaded, her voice shaking. She struggled against his grip, her fingers clawing at his arm, desperate to be free. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
But the man only grinned—an evil, twisted grin—and turned on the stove.
I froze.
Everything around me faded.
All I could see was fire.
All I could hear was her scream—my sister's—echoing through the night she died.
Burning.
Devoured by flames.
I couldn't breathe.
It was all happening again.
Without thinking, I mindlessly walked toward where they were and grabbed his hand. He seemed taken aback and looked at me, puzzled.
And when his eyes locked with mine, a vision suddenly flashed before me.
He was wearing the exact clothes he had on now… His eyes were full of rage. His hands—wrapped tightly around someone's neck.
It was…
Erica?