Whatever happens, I need you to remember this: this is a true story.
I tilted my head and was feigning sleep when without warning, he cracked up and began talking about his life in the military and the insurgency operations. He folded his knee and rested his arm on it; the worn cushion of the truck, as it strode somewhere in Bicol, pressed our backs.
There were twenty of them, twenty military men, according to him, and they stabbed twenty times. It was back in 2005, and they needed, that moment, to catch some rebels – to lift the image of the institution.
But they were fluid, he said. Like hope.
Driven by pressure, they’ve resorted in abduction and stabbing the person twenty times.
One blow at a time.
“How did you feel then,” I inquired, “killing someone?”
“Nothing,” he confessed. “It’s already dead when my turn came”. (To be continued)