Different Flames for Different Causes

Darkness.

Yes, all I see is darkness. Have I gone into a dream where I cannot see? As I try to open my eyes again, it turns out that this is reality itself. I try to move my eyes to get a sense of what's ahead of me. As I move the balls of my eyes, I feel the cloth placed in front of my eyes as if to prevent me from seeing. I move my arms and legs, but I only feel some kind of rope holding them behind a chair.

I try to untie the rope, but it seems that it is a bigger challenge than me. Whatever knots they made is stronger than what a scout can do. Maybe if I try breaking this chair, something will happen. I try to move and move until a rope loses its grip on me. I move to my left and right, but I only fall flat on my face with my chair making a ringing sound like that of iron bars. So, this chair is basically unbreakable, and the knots are tighter than life's grip on me. Guess nothing will happen.

As the ringing sound goes on, I hear footsteps coming my way. One is from the left and one is from the right. I feel them stand the metal chair again. Well, as long as I'm tied here, I guess I'm not going to die. If they really want me to die, they would have done so earlier.

"Miss, try not to move around so much," a man says as he straightens me on my seat. "It is futile to try to escape."

"I'd like to try my chances," I say to the man seemingly behind me. "I tried earlier. Why would I give up on trying?"

"I know you won't stop trying," he says in response. Suddenly, he lowers his voice. "As long as she keeps trying, you won't stop trying."

She. He refers to Ysabel as 'she'. Gently, he places some of my messed-up hair behind the blindfold before my eyes. "Then tell your mistress I'd like to see her," I say to him. "Where is she? Why are you holding me here?"

"She wants to talk to you," he says calmly.

As he pushes my chair near a table-like object, I hear him, and his partner walk away from me. As their footsteps fade away from my hearing, I feel the silence crawling up my spine. It's scary to think that the last time I heard this silence is only during the times where I slept at night. I have lived for much of my life in a city that never sleeps. Now that all I hear is silence, the feeling is strange. It's almost killing me into fear.

Then, suddenly, I hear the clattering of stilettos coming my way. So, this is how we meet. I will meet her behind a cloth of darkness. This is the third or fourth time that we will talk, and yet, I think this is the first time that we will talk to each other face-to-face with both of us keeping our heads.

Little by little, I feel her drawing nearer and nearer. And, lo, she is right before me. In this silent chamber, I feel her pull a chair right in front of the table that separates us.

"Miss Aguinaldo, so, we meet."

That's all I hear from her. This is the first time I hear her speak with me knowing it is her. This is the woman I've been searching for. This is the woman I despise, and yet, why do I not right now? Why do I not feel a fire raging within me? If there is one thing I can say to her, it would only be this.

"Likewise, Ysabel. Likewise"

Even though I was trying to strike a nerve, it seems that she does not even seem to raise a voice. "You must be wondering why I brought you here," she says gently. I feel the table slightly move as if she placed her hands over it. I try my best to see through my blindfold, but nothing works. All I see is the thin threads woven together to form a cloth.

"Yes, I do wonder why you haven't killed me when you had the chance," I say tartly to her. "You almost killed me then, remember? The time when you drugged Mateo into a coma?"

"And yet you live," she says in response. "You lived because that priestly professor saved you. Like he did earlier, perhaps?"

She just forces me into silence with her words. I can't believe that the man that saved me from her is the same man that let me be taken away by her. Through my gritted teeth, I feel the words come out of my mouth. "He did not save me. He let me be taken. Is he part of your game? Are you just playing into my weakness by allowing him to be in my life? Do you know my secrets because I confide in him?"

"We do not talk, Miss Aguinaldo," she says calmly. "Well, technically, we do talk, but he did not take part in my plans. But what he did earlier truly says a lot. He is a man that no one can predict. I do not even know if he supports my plans. Well, he did say he does not, but his actions earlier are questionable."

"Just like yours perhaps?" I ask spitefully. "You were given the chance to kill me. Why not do it earlier?"

"Miss Aguinaldo, you were insistent on interfering with my plans. I told you to stop, but you did not. Clearly, I find that killing you is not the best option. Dave is a flame that I cannot control. If I kill you, he will kill me. My intention for attempting to kill you is to stop you from interfering with my plans to take my rightful inheritance from my sister. And, I wanted it as a whole. I can't let that old man divide it by selling the shares or giving it to a lateral claim. I'm right here. Jonathan Guevarra is also there. Why not give it to us?"

"Because you are not an acknowledge child?"

"Well, that's just unfair, isn't it? To say that I am not his child is just as cruel as accepting a child that is not his just to save face."

"You are avoiding the question, Ysabel. Why bring me here and not kill me earlier?"

"Am I avoiding the question? Frankly I think I am answering it now. I brought you here because I wanted to see you and talk with you. I do not want to kill you because David Diwa will kill me. I do not want to repeat myself, Rosanna. I hope you now understand."

"Well, that's just unfair, isn't it? To have you see me all vulnerable is just as cruel as not letting me see you in your full strength just to create an illusion of strength within you."

"Pointing out the irony, aren't you?"

"The hypocrisy, I correct."

I feel the air surrounding us heating up like that of flames before hell. As we both realize this, we both fall into silence. Men battle with papers. Women fight through words. This is how it's going to be between us – just a war with words. In this time where I cannot see her, I believe I can get a grasp of who she is – a conniving woman that is willing to do anything to get what she wants. She is just like the man she claims to be her father.

Before she speaks, I hear her take a deep breath. "Well, I believe I have found my match." She says in her amusement. "You are a fighter, aren't you Rose? But, we are just fighting with different flames for different causes. You advocate for truth. I advocate for my rights. But, let me ask you, Rosanna. What is the truth you are fighting for? The truth that the elites are cruel and are willing to do everything to get what we want? The truth that Emma seeks a man that she loved but you cannot find? Or, is it just you don't know?"

As I was about to answer straight to her face, she got me thinking. What is it this definite truth? I stammer through words in my mouth, but I have found nothing to say. All I could do is fall into silence.

"I believe I am right," she says, in realization as I am.

"Yes," I say blankly. "Yes, you are. I always say 'the truth will always prevail' but I do not even know what that definite truth is. And what is your right that you are fighting for? I believe I should not be asking you that as you already know."

"Actually, I do not. I say I fight for my rights to be an heir, but I could have just done that legally a few months ago. I did many things for the sake of 'my rights.' But still, those rights are indefinite. Am I fighting for my rights to be an heir or am I just fighting to be acknowledged as Raphael's daughter?"

Ysabel Javier, a woman I thought is just a conniving woman willing to kill for money, is not who I thought she was. I could feel the spite in me dying down. If I could see her right now, I would give her a brief embrace, but I could not. I am blind to what I see, but I hear the truth ringing within her.

"Ms. Javier, I – "

"I believe we have the same strength of flames, Rose," she interrupts. "But since we wield different flames for different causes, I believe we are bound to be at war in this ordeal."

"We have to be at war, Ysabel. I must bring justice as you fight for your rights. That is why I ask of you. Stop this."

"No, Rosanna. I chose this path and I must stand by it. Raphael needs to go down for he has wronged his four children. And, yes. I am counting the adopted one. He has wronged us four just because he wants to save his face."

"There must be another way."

"No, there isn't. I have done many things to take him down to the point that I hurt you and that Macedo boy just for keeping myself safe. Now, isn't that hypocrisy, as you might say. I accept that."

"Then you'll have to tell me where Mateo is right now. I know you have something to do with his disappearance."

"No, Rosanna. I will not tell you where he is. You will learn that for yourself. Also, I believe this war is fairer if we are on equal playing field. This is my cause, Rose. If you choose to fight me, you'll have to do it on your own."

"It is no longer a choice, Ysabel. I will fight you for I believe it is right. You cannot get the RSC as much as Raphael Concepcion is a conniving man. You have no rights for it. There is only one legitimate heir on paper."

"So, it is to be war between us. No matter what you say, I have my own beliefs of what is right. Now that I have seen you for what you really are, I pity that we cannot be at the same side. But then, you will always be a fighter. You will always be a fighter like Lionel Chua."

I do not know what she means, but, then, I remember. I saw a vision. I saw a vision of the boss struggling to keep Lucia City Times alive during the dictatorship. Maybe she is right. Maybe reporters of Lucia City Times will advocate for the truth because truth that prevails runs in our blood.

"I believe the press will always have that fire like Lionel Chua, a great hero during the dictatorship," I say in response. "The boss should be celebrated of how he kept press freedom alive in a time where it is silent, like what you are doing now."

Silently, she gives a slight chuckle. "You still cannot understand," she says gently. "Maybe you'll have to realize it on your own. Thank you for meeting me, Rosanna. I believe we will meet again if we find one of us as the victor of this war."

Without another word, she rises on her feet and walks away from me.

Ysabel Javier.

Somehow, I believe I have gained some sense of respect for her. But still, it is to be a war between us. And, I pity that we cannot agree to disagree. One must win, and I intend to be that victor at the end. The truth must prevail, no matter what it takes. No matter if people get hurt in this fight, the truth must always win.