THE city lights shone on her temple, revealing the wounds and scars she conceals with man-made dust. Her eyes closed as she realized that time was not that kind to her. She was once a winsome lass, before he met her husband who put her through her worst heartbreak. Now she is a broken artwork that no sculptor would want to work on, unless he cut a piece and shape her smaller.
People really can't imagine the idea of working overseas as a housemaid. The last five years for her felt like eternity. If not for her son's studies, she could have fled the daily cruelty of her masters, and the racist stares of the foreign land's deities. She never could have imagined that there really are people who treat humans like animals. Tonight, however, they forgot to lock her cage door.
In the window, she saw a few families strolling by the Lakeside garden. She was only allowed to go outside his prison once a month but always with the company of the male master who would grope her whenever he has a chance -- "Many Filipinos were hanged in this country, don't have crazy thoughts," the master would sneer. Despite the humiliation, she would proceed to Lucky Plaza to call her son and deposit all her meager wage. One time when they got back, her female master accused them of having an affair. In her rage, she took the heated frying pan and hit her repeatedly.
She regained her consciousness only on the next day at the "comfort" room. The monsters did not even have that ounce of humanity to put her on the bed. That moment, she prayed. "Heal my body...Heal my soul", she wept. Even an atheist in his lowest point will beg the hands of God. Even an agnostic has a prayer.
Her son had told her once that he is close to finding a decent work. Those lines alone gave her the hope she needed. She took the most prized pictures of her only child in her wallet - everyday was such a privilege to watch him grow. He grew up to be responsible and smart, unlike his drunk father who took his daily poison to his grave. She was prepared to spend more than four years in this privately-constructed prison just to put him to college or even medical or law school. But her child is kind and responsible. "Ma, magawid kan. Kayak nga agtrabaho para kanyatan (Ma, please come home. I can work for both of us)," her son would always appeal. She misses him so much.
She let the time pass until her monsters (masters) would enter into their deep sleep. It was only about 4 a.m. when she prepared for her escape. She sneaked to the living room and looked around for the last time. "It wasn't that difficult, was it?" she asked herself. She made it to the door and silently unbolted all the locks. Her stomach churned and her head became heavy, she rushed to the elevator not looking back, but decided finally to use the stairs. The cold garden breeze finally met her damp face.
"To the Embassy, Philippine Embassy!" she almost screamed at the taxi driver. She hoped that her few bills would cover the meter. "Relax!" said the Indian driver who was thankfully going easy that time. After a kilometer, she looked back and saw the eyes of her male tormentor. She covered her face with her hands as if to avoid its terror.
The new vice consul was surprised to see a figure lying on the embassy gates. The figure stood immediately and run towards him. "Tulongam shak kabsat, sir! Tulongan mo ako! (Please help me brother, sir. Please help me!) The young diplomat hugged her, "Shhh...yes...yes, everything will be alright now."