Repressing Whispers

   “Isn’t that the pedophile teacher?” a girl whispered.

           “The molester from our school?” another girl chirmed. 

            Like piercing daggers are thrown towards his heart, their silent, familiar voices reached Mark’s ears. 

            He was on his way to his house after he brought a thick Manila hemp rope to a convenience store. As usual, he heard the silent, repressing whispers of the people of their barangay that chime whenever he was around.

            Curious about their recognizable voices, he glanced at the source of the sound.

            ‘Ahh… They were my students,’ he thought as a sad expression appeared on his gaunt face.

            ‘Maybe I deserve to be treated like this,’ he snickered as if mocking himself for what he did.

            It is true, though. What people were talking about him was all true. It was true that he was a disgusting pig that molested one of his students back when he was a teacher. A human who was worse than an animal, at least in the past.

            “Shh… he can hear us,” said a boy who was with the group of gossiping girls, looking at Mark with disgust on his face.    

            Responding to the boy’s sudden warning, the girls reflexively looked at Mark’s middle-aged face. They noticed his smile. As if they fully grasped his intentions, they let out an instinctively exclaimed reaction out of shock.

            “Creepy!”

            “Yuck!”

            Hearing their reaction, Mark gnashed his teeth and clasped his hands. His heavy eyes, weighted by large eye bags, got even heftier.

            ‘I can’t get used to this,’ he thought. 

            Daily, with the whispers of the people, he was being reminded of his mistake 2 years ago. No matter how many times he apologized, the words “pervert,” “molester,” and “pedophile” were embedded in people’s minds. 

            Wanting to quickly pass the students who were gossiping, Mark fastened up his pace. 

            Compared to his former self, his steps were ragged and slow. His once muscular physique was now replaced with an emaciated body. The bones in his body were almost showing through his skin. There were almost no signs of the popular, alluring man he once was. The image of a “pervert” now perfectly fits his appearance.

            Still walking, he felt the silent gazes of loathing appear from the people around him. Their eyes shone as if they were defenders of justice, purifying every inch of sins that they saw. 

            A chill ran through Mark’s entire body. He could understand them, after all. If they were the ones who committed the same atrocity as he did, he would be disgusted with them. 

            He could also hear small whispers and hushes. The audible sound of their voices did not reach him, but he knew what they were talking about -what they were always talking about.

            ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ he cried in his mind, with his face displaying an emotion mixed with regret and dejection. But no matter how many times he thought of how sorry he was, Mark could not convince himself, much more other people, that he was worth forgiving.

            Then, the corner of Mark’s eyes caught a glimpse of a too familiar face to ignore.

            “Allan,” he said with an anxious voice, calling his best friend that he did not see in the last 2 years.

            Allan flinched a little when he heard his name. But he did not react after that -not even a glance at Mark’s face. He continued to talk to the person beside him as if he did not hear anything.

            ‘Of course, he wouldn’t want to associate himself with a person who became the topic of gossips for the last 2 years,’ Mark thought as he felt a hand slowly crushing his heart, with his eyes almost watery. 

            Under the people’s scornful eyes and repressing tongues, he continued his daily walk of shame towards his house. 

***

            As Mark entered his house, the stench of dirt combined with a rotten smell tickled his nose.

            Packagings of instant foods were scattered everywhere. Almost every piece of furniture was covered with thick layers of dirt. Molds formed on the sofa and other furnishings as well.

            He sighed not at the dirtiness of the house but at the vastness and coldness he felt.  

            “I miss them,” he muttered weakly with a crestfallen expression on his face.

            “Lilia… Luna…” he pleaded, seeking his wife and daughter, who now do not even consider him family anymore. Their warmth, embrace, and love, all lost for a single mistake. A single blunder that the whispers reminded him, every day without fail. A single error that society can not forgive.

            Suddenly, his smartphone placed on a dirty dining table rang. Its screen displayed that someone was calling him.

            Disturbed by the call, he glanced at his smartphone where someone was calling and where 982 missed calls were registered. He did not even need to look to see who sent all those calls -he knew who was the only person that cared for him when society itself did not. 

            ‘Mother…’ he thought, his mind full of disgust for himself. 

            ‘How can I face you right now?’ he thought as his heavy, watery eyes leaked the tears that they were holding. He let out the emotions he received from his walk of shame earlier.

            While he cried, he grasped the Manila hemp rope that he bought from the convenience store. In his hand, he saw his last remaining hope. 

            “I’m tired!” he shouted, his tears falling off his face. 

            “…to be hated by everyone… Even by myself…,” Mark murmured. 

            In ragged movements, Mark headed to the room that once his, his wife’s, and daughter’s room, recalling the happiest moment of his life -the moment when he was together with his family.

            There, he tied the rope into a hangman’s noose, climbed in a chair, and attached the rope to the ceiling.

            With eyes closed, imagining how his wife and daughter once hugged her, he put the rope to his neck. Feeling the warmth, he smiled. For almost 2 years, it was his only smile.

            Out of nowhere, in his head, he heard the people gossiping, desecrating the solemn atmosphere that he felt, just as they did in the last 2 years. 

            He heard them talking about how he molested his student. 

            He heard them talking about how glad they were about what happened to him. 

            He heard them talking about his miserable life as if making him entertainment.

            “Be silent!” he shouted with all his might as he kicked the chair where he was standing. His wife and daughter’s embrace on his neck, he felt it again. This time, tighter and tighter and tighter…

            Now, he was peaceful once again, no longer hearing their repressing whispers. 

Author's Note

I have not yet finished studying the lessons (learnings) from my previous short story, but I needed to make a new short story for school. So, here is another one. Like before, don't hold back on reviewing this! :)