“Sit up.”

The order from Stefeus sounded confusing. Everyone looked up at him to see if he was actually talking to them. No sound of the door opening had touched their ears, so they couldn’t be sure.

Those whose eyes met his saw that he was indeed talking to them.

“I said, sit up.”

With a swift quickness, everyone lifted themselves off the floor and took a seat. Nobody knew the reason for this order, but it didn’t matter. At least they could sit up and breathe easier. It was bright and sunny outside, the sun’s position in the sky suggesting it was already afternoon, but the dark aura lingered over the hall. With a group of fearful captives, a stiff corpse among them, and armed captors ready to put a bullet through any of them, there was nothing bright and chippy about the day.

As they did, the door opened, and a hand beckoned Stefeus to approach. He turned to them. “The door’s gonna be open,” he announced. “Try anything funny and you’ll die. Got it?”

Everyone timidly nodded.

He then walked out to meet the other three.

A collective sigh of relief echoed throughout the room. Sure, the nightmare was nowhere near over, and they had no idea what was next. But at least they didn’t have cruel eyes watching over them, ready to roar threats at them for not complying to their orders.

Theo De France, who was the closest to the door, leaned forward. “You know, I heard something earlier,” he whispered, his voice husky from dehydration. “They kept saying a name… It sounded like Jo Hanta. Anyone know who that is? Is he their leader or something?”

Jacob and Thelma perked up. They exchanged a somber glance, their expressions darkening at the sound of that name. “Jo Hanta,” Thelma repeated softly, her voice trembling. “It’s a name we’d all rather forget.”

“Why? Who is he?” Theo pressed. “Is he an opposition leader or something?”

Jacob shook his head, then cleared his throat. “Jo Hanta was a fierce critic of the government. Young man. Bold, loud, always in the papers, criticizing this government for so many reasons. People admired his courage and his fearlessness, his ability to speak truth to power, but… he wasn’t the saint he pretended to be.”

“What do you mean? What did he do?” asked Francisca.

Thelma sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. “A lot, apparently. He was accused of terrible things. Sexual abuse. The murder of a minor. He was arrested and put before court. The evidence against him was damning, but his supporters called it a setup to silence him. He was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. Recently died in prison. Hanged himself, according to the news.”

Francisca’s face contorted with disgust. “Wait—you mean we’re possibly being held hostage over that kind of man? A predator? A murderer?”

“Hmmm. Some people still see him as a martyr,” Jacob replied grimly.

Francisca scoffed, her voice rising despite the risk of being overheard. “Martyr? Martyr? How can anyone justify fighting for a man like that? You can criticize the government without destroying lives, can’t you?”

A few heads nodded hesitantly.

“People like him,” Francisca continued, her voice shaking with anger, “are the reason so many victims stay silent. And now we’re caught in this madness, paying the price for someone who—who doesn’t deserve it?”

Kaiyne raised a calming hand. “Senorita, please, keep your voice down. Don’t let them hear you.”

It was trite knowledge that Francisca had a deep-seated hatred for rapists and criminals who preyed on minors. Any attempt to defend such horrible people would set her off on a furious and passionate rant. This, however, was not the time or the place to express those sentiments.

Unfortunately, she was so triggered, she didn’t really remember the memo on that.

She barreled on, her words spilling out in a furious tirade. “Do you know how many lives men like this Jo Hanta guy ruin? Numerous! Uncountable! Then they hide behind power, behind movements, and people like these captors cling to their memory like it’s some sacred cause. It’s vile! Absolutely vile! I don’t even know enough about this man, but goodness, I despise rapists with a burning-”

The door swung open, muting Francisca instantly.

Lycipus stood there, rifle in hand.

Cocked and pointed right at Francisca.

“NO-“

POW!

A direct aim to the forehead took out the human rights advocate instantly.

Screams erupted throughout the hall, everyone petrified at how easily one of their own was extinguished. It was absolute panic at that moment.

“As a wise man once said,” Lycipus muttered loudly as she entered the hall while adjusting the rifle’s magazine, “chat shit, get banged. Literally. Should’ve just kept your shitty little mouth shut, you dumbass bitch.”

In the midst of the wails and loud pleas for mercy, a trembling Mr. Martin Farber raised his voice. P-p-please, please… Miss…”

Lycipus turned to him sharply.

Gulping hard, seeing that he had grabbed her attention and the room was growing silent, he continued. “P-p-please, I… I dunno why you’re doing this, I don’t know your motives… b-b-but please… I can see you’re angry and all. I-I-I can see you… you and your friends, you have a statement to make. But I… I know deep down, beneath all that anger, there’s a sweet girl in there somewhere. P-please, I’m pleading with you-“

POW!

A gunshot and a blinding agony in his knee cut his plea short, his words instantly metamorphosing into an excruciating scream.

“AAAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHH!!”

Once again, the room was a chaotic mix of frightened screams and pitiful pleas for mercy.

It was clear Mr. Farber’s attempt to appeal to Lycipus’ feminine side had not gone down well with her at all, given how swiftly she fired his knee into destruction.

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP… RIGHT… NOW!”

Lycipus’ roar instantly silenced them all. Everyone had a hand over their mouth, doing their absolute best not to be the next victim of this callous woman’s wrath.

Her furious glare scanned the room slowly, with each captive wondering what she was about to do next.

After what felt like a few minutes, she stormed over to Mr. Farber and crouched before him. She slapped him roughly, then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“Now you listen to me, you useless little piece of shit, with your stupid little glasses. What you are not gonna do right now is get into my head with your stupid little compliments. You wanna talk about sweet? You think I should be a sweet little tootsie? You think it’s sweet waking up to abject poverty every fucking day of your life? You think it’s sweet having to struggle to put food on your table? You think it’s sweet not to have access to healthcare? You think it’s sweet to have to live a shit life like that? Don’t you dare talk to me about sweetness! You have no fucking right to talk to me about being sweet! Coz guess what, I am not. I am not a sweet girl, I am not a baby girl, I am not a honey. I am a fucking beast! I am a monster!

“And guess what? It’s your fucking friends in power who made this beast who she is. I am the monster they made. That’s right. I mean, tell me, what did you think would happen when they only come by my side of town to put up a humble little show, plead for our votes and make a whole bunch of fake ass promises to get us to believe in them, only to get power and pretend as if we don’t exist? What else did you expect, when under their rule, things become even worse, to the extent that my mother and her friends no longer get their daily supply of vegetables to help us get by? When they come by and destroy our fully functioning hospital with the excuse of building a brand new one, only to leave an absolute pile of dust and stones? When they gaslight us every fucking opportunity they have and tell us we’re the cause of our own suffering? When they target a young man, passionate to see his country get better, frame him for a rape and murder he never did, then turn around and have him killed in prison and frame it as a suicide? What the fuck did you expect, huh?

“Listen to me: I am not a sweet girl. I’ve not lived a sweet life like you and everyone else here. I’ve had to fight to try to make life good for myself, only to have it all snatched away from me. I’ve watched my loved ones see their dreams wither and die in the dust. I watched my brilliant cousin lose out on a scholarship because of you fucking greedy politicians shoving your privileged ass kids in her place, and now she sells fried yam to make a living. You don’t know what the fuck it’s like to feel the sting of betrayal as those in power… those who swore on their mother’s lives that they would do right by us, turn a blind eye to the plight of me and my people. I’ve seen a beacon of hope, a real voice of the people, get snuffed out, simply for speaking truth to power.

“And you see, that… that was when I had enough. That was when I fucking had enough! That was when I saw that this country would rather see me drown and cheer about it. That was when I realized that this country would rather set me on fire and use my burning body as a bonfire. That was when I realized… that I’d rather kill those who want me dead than give them the satisfaction of treating me like shit and tossing me away.

“So don’t you dare open that foul mouth of yours and call me sweet. I… am… a fucking beast, and let me tell you something: this gun right here… I do not mind loading every fucking bullet into your body right now, going back, reloading it, and doing same to every stupid motherfucker in this room. So don’t you dare play that shit with me. I am not sweet. I am not pleasant and lovely, I am foul and depraved. I am not pink cuteness and femininity, I am the fucking Black Death! Do you hear me?”

With that, she rose to her feet. Scanning the room with another fierce glare, she raised her hands.

“ANYBODY ELSE WANNA TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT MY FEMININITY? WANNA TELL ME HOW BEAUTIFUL MY BOOBS ARE? HUH? ANYONE WANNA TELL ME HOW HE’D LOVE TO BEND ME OVER AND FUCK THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF ME? HUHH?”

Everyone still had their hands over their mouths, terrified to let a sound come out of their mouths. Lycipus continued to glare at them all, then walked toward the door.

“I didn’t fucking think so. Dumb ass motherfuckers!”

She slammed the door behind her.

Damn! That has to be one of the most chilling monologues ever. Lycipus just opened herself up with that…