Chapter 2: Ika-23 ng Septyembre, 1972
It was the twenty-third day of September 1972.
"In light of recent events concerning public acts of hostility and violence," the man whose face was on every single channel at the moment spoke.
Felipe stared at the screen; he had previously been watching his favorite television drama that, for some odd reason, aired at midnight, when President Marcos, who was staying just a few floors above him, no doubt, came onto the screen with a solemn look on his face, but with an eerily satisfied glow in his eyes.
It unnerved him. It unnerved him greatly. And Felipe knew that if he was feeling it, a lot of other Filipinos were, too.
"Chief among those being the attempted assassination of Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile the other day ago," Marcos continued, purposefully drawing out his sentences to effectively drive his point home. "I have made a very important decision."
Felipe felt his forehead crease as he furrowed his eyebrows at the screen; a dark, heavy feeling started to brew in his gut. Something was going to happen, and he couldn't guarantee if it would be something bad or something good.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to stay tuned to find out. But it wouldn't matter if he did or didn't, after all; he'd know the verdict one way or another, whether he wanted to or not.
Even if he didn't watch, the emotions of the people watching would still run through his body and rack him with an uncontrollable emotion.
Realizing that, he leaned forward and increased the volume of the TV set with the turn of a knob. Not bothering to straight up in his seat after that, he simply supported his weight by placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, listening intently.
He had to do this.
"I, Ferdinand E. Marcos, tenth President of the Philippines, by the power vested upon me by Article VII, Section 10, paragraph 2 of the 1935 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines, have signed Proclamation No. 1081 as of the 21st of this month, thereby placing the entire Philippines under martial law."
And his body's response to that was too strong, too overwhelming. All he could do was gasp loudly as all the wind in his lungs deserted him. The dark sensation that had merely been starting to take shape in his belly suddenly turned into an overpowering hurricane, a whiplash of a flurry of undesirable emotions that caused his stomach to do a back-flip and made him want to vomit.
He cursed up, pressing his forehead against his knees, as his right hand clutched his stomach and his left flew up to his mouth. Groaning in pain, he screwed his eyes shut to prevent his tears, which had gathered up at the corners, from flowing out.
It hurts…It hurts…! He desperately wanted to cry out, but prevented himself from doing so by biting his lower lip. Slowly, a coppery taste, a taste that was far too familiar for his liking, trickled onto his tongue, making his taste buds tingle in discomfort.
Blood never was something he liked tasting.
Even after a while, the distress he was feeling had still not faded away; instead, it only got stronger and more torturous, which meant that the Filipinos…the Filipinos…
"The Filipinos are scared," Felipe whispered to himself, cracking his eyes open just a tiny bit, just enough to let his tears drop onto the material of his expensive, brown, custom-made slacks, a gift to him from the Marcos family.
Author's Notes:
On September 23, 1972, President Ferdinand Marcos went on air at midnight to announce that he was implementing martial law. The documents for it were actually signed two days prior to the announcement. This marked the start of significant opposition against the government.
Due to not finding any reliable sources as to what was actually televised that night, I made up a lot of what Marcos said, using the information about the situation that I already knew.