The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself Michel De Montaigne (1533-1592)

Forcefully they dragged me up the stairs, but somehow I seemingly let them. Reaching the top, they slowly opened the door and pulled me in, closing it silently, concealed in secrecy. They let go, leaving me alone. It was dark, I couldnt see. My feet glided along the floor, cautious amongst the unfamiliarity. My integrity and values were vulnerable, they didnt belong here. educed by a iren, my body spoke otherwise. !"nd lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil#, echoed the congregation from the pews, the words reverberating off the dusty stain$glassed windows and filling the cracks of the withered church. !"men I murmured as I slowly raised my head and opened my eyes to ga%e upon the cross on that cold unday morning & wishing I had worn more clothes. "s devout 'hristians, my family always found the time to go to church at least once a week. My integrity and values had been cultured by its doctrines since Ive been born, within it I found refuge. Flick. The dim red lamp illuminated only the corner, from which it sat, only enough to make out shadowy ob(ects before evaporating into the darkness of the other side of the room. Then eclipsing the light, desire in their footsteps, they advanced towards me. The door was unlocked. I could escape, walk away from it all but I hesitated, the eurhythmic war between my mind and body raging. !)hat do I do*#, !Everything will be okay# the voices whispered, reading my mind. I (abbed what I had thought was the key hole+the fly screen rattled the night. The key hole mockingly danced around the door. "gain, !where is it,# -ivided into two, it twirled into a blur. "."I/, !I need to get home,#. 0n the wild rollercoaster ride I drunkenly staggered through the door, making my way to the couch that was now upside down, I fell flat upwards. !1002 "T M3,# my mother screamed, her voice bursting with anger, cloaking the underlying an4iety. 3ndless bitter nights pursued after being caught into4icated, but !as we forgive those who trespass against us#, the soft voice of my mother said !Everything will be okay#. I couldnt afford to lose the love and security of home. 5ut would she forgive me this time* For this* Retreat. They pushed towards me, cutting off my space and options. 'onfronted, I fi4ed my eyes upon them as I slipped my hand behind my back reaching for the metal door handle. Then slowly they invaded, their hot breathe sending tingles down my spine, spiraling to my heels, raising my toes slightly off the ground. .ently pinching my ears, tracing my neck, my shoulders, ever so slowly down my arm & elbow, wrist & I rela4ed my hand, the warmth of the cold handle let go. My body consented, but my sense of self was pressed against the adjacent wall. !Relax and just watch# they reassured me. I stitched and weaved my line through the water, entranced by the incessant ripples that would then crash into the banks of the other side of the river, after 6hours of sitting, waiting and waiting. My father would regularly in(ect a healthy dosage of values and traditions, preserving them through his only child & weekend fishing was one of them. !/o. youre doing it all wrong#, he accused me as I would drag my line through the water to only reel in varying species of seaweed. !1ook relax and just watch me $ 7lay the game. 1ure them. 5ait them. 3ntice them. .et them.# uddenly I felt like the fish. 5reathe. Then from my wrist, little by little, they spread their fingers down my hand, overlapping my own, before wrapping them into tension. My free hand imitating the other, also clenched & my supposed values gripped and my moral dilemma arising. 5eat. My heart became clogged with guilt $

Francois Fajilan

!)hat do I do* 'hurch* Family* )hat do I want*#. 5eat. Their hand 8uickly came back up my arm. 5eat. Their fingers inserted underneath my shirt, tugging it, grasping for my skin. 5eat. Their fingers stretched across my neck, tilting my head up, exposing my neck, kissing it passionately. 5eat. My thoughts, my morals, my sense of self, gagged. My defense penetrated. My toes curled, I bit my lips, I bit the bait. The guilt throbbing and out$flowing, into my veins, through to my hands & they too pulled them closer. 9ip. )e took to the bed, our clothes discarded by the door. )e ran our hands through each others hair. 2issing and caressing. 0ur bodies lay ne4t to each other in unity, rocking in harmony. Tossing and turning, I felt the radiating warmth underneath the sheets. They had got to me, contemporary society, plagued by the se4ual conceptions of the media and the modern world. The almost intrinsic trait of conformity proved to be the "chilles :eel, of moral integrity. Together we are victims of a rape of tradition and values, becoming disconnected from family and faith. " world with no limitations, sensations and accidental gestations, this is our generation. This is who weve become, where I belong, who we are, who I am.

Francois Fajilan