PROLOGUE

Have you experienced in your life that somehow you were looking for something, and yet you do not know what is it you’re looking for? I did. There was a time in my life that I had several questions lurking in my mind, things that seem pretty dumb, or at some way too vast for my mind to handle. I was lost, edgy, like a cat on a hot tin roof. I do not know what to do, and I do not know what I am living for. I felt uneasy and wanted to escape my reality. So I did things in accordance to my own desire, my own preferences, and my own strength of character. And things became even worse.

I decided to write down some of the things that happened to me when I was very lost and nowhere to be found, a soul searching for his purpose in life, a man trying desperately to fit in the world I grew up with, a warrior fighting against the battles of time. This is me then, and I will show you who I am now.

I believe that EVERY CHAPTER OF MY LIFE IS IMPORTANT. Every second, every hour, every day of my life is significant and of great essence. But if I write everything that has happened to me for the whole complete years of my existence, I don’t think I would be able to complete this book. I started writing this book last 2006, and I kept adding and adding several events and episodes of my life, so I really had no time to finish and publish it. And finally, I decided to include only the events that are very memorable to me, since all these events that had happened in the past is a part of God’s history of salvation for me, and for that I am very grateful.

When I first started writing my experiences, it was only like writing in a blog. I did it because it was the trend at that time, the famous fad. But then, I had this desire to write about all my experiences, all the goodness God did to me. But then I started asking, “Why”? Why would I waste my time writing about my life? Who will be stupid enough to be interested in reading a story of a person they barely know? So I started researching and asking people questions on why they want to write their history, hoping that maybe, just maybe, some of their answers would be applicable to me.

Some say that writing is a form of relaxation; that they need to write in order to put order to their thoughts, just like in a journal. But for me, if I want to relax, I’ll just lie on my bed and go to sleep. That’s my favorite way of relaxation. I also heard that writing is a form of a marketing instrument that it helps to promote one’s self. If he wants to become known, he could try to create a consistent autobiography and promote it. In this way, he may get to be known by others, he may get to be popular; for journalists, for example, it is vital. But I am not a journalist. I’m a software engineer, so I don’t need to write just so I would be popular. I just have to create impressive and notable softwares together with my team. So this reason doesn’t work out for me either. One guy said it was because of loneliness, that people are lonely. They don’t have people around to listen to them, so they end up arranging a conversation with wider audience through writing. It doesn’t suit me either. I already belong in a community in the Church when I started writing my experiences, so I already have other people to listen to me shooting the breeze. So after several attempts, to no avail, I did not have a single answer from people, only now that I realized why I wanted to write about my experiences.

So now, maybe you will ask, “So what is it? Why did you write about your history?”. It is because of only one thing. To announce to the people how good God is, how He allowed me to see how beautiful my history is, how on every chapter of my life, He is with me, how on every suffering, every struggle, every cross, He saves me from the pit of death. This is the reason. God loves me the way I am, and I don’t have to strain myself using my own strength and will to make people love me, because I know for a fact that there is someone who loves me the way I am. And if He saved me from death several times, loving me the way I am right now, and giving me the grace to ask mercy to Him to convert my heart everyday of my life, He does it also to each and every one of you in different ways, different aspects, and different outlooks. There is a God. He exists. He forgives. He loves. This is the reason why I continued writing and finishing this book. To announce to the people how God loves us the way we are.

I saw in different books that most of the writers, in the first page of their books, they write their special thanks and dedications, so I started thinking on who to thank for and to whom will I dedicate this book. I do not have any particular or special person to thank for but I do thank God for giving me the grace to know Him little by little and allowing me to experience a taste of the life He prepared for me. I thank Him for His mercy and His grace. I thank Him for finding me. I thank Him for He has not forsaken me, nor He has forgotten me. If I include all the reasons on why should I thank Him, this prologue will not be over until a couple of years or so.

For those people who feel that they are all alone, lost and nowhere to be found, who thinks that there is no hope anymore, I dedicate this story to all of you. Life is serious. Be grateful for He has given you more than what you can imagine, more than what you expected, even more than what you deserved. I know because I am.

This story is not at all about me. This is a story about God, on how He has pulled me out of the pit of death.

The whereabouts of a lost soul.

CHAPTER ONE

The Man in the Iron Mask

Forbidden City. A place where men voluntarily and eagerly do things of evil. Crimes are somewhat legal and good people are only a few. This is where I grew up. This is where I started walking. This is where I live.

I am the eldest of three male siblings. My mother has a foreign blood and my father is a pure Filipino. Most of my foreign relatives in my mother side already live outside of the country, so I do not really know most of them. However, some of her Filipino relatives still reside here, and I am also very close to them. When I was a kid, I used to go to her uncle’s place and live with his family for the vacation. He doesn’t look a lot like a Filipino, although he speaks the language very fluently. They are very rich and work as big bosses of different prestigious and prominent companies in the country. With regards to my father’s relatives, I am well acquainted with them and hang out with them almost everyday even until now. Some of them also lives in the U.S. and visits the country every once in a while.

When I was a kid, I started having these abnormal attacks. We do not really know what it is and why it happens. I do not even recall how I got it. From what I remember, I started having these attacks when I was in third grade. When I entered high school, these attacks became recurrent and continual. My family thought it was just because I was anemic, or over-fatigued, so we ignored it for so many years. Until after my high school graduation, my aunt, who is the Head Nurse of Somerset Medical Hospital in New Jersey, went home to have a vacation here and spend her time with us. Without hesitation, she told us that what I have are seizures, and I should go and consult her neurologist friend here in the Philippines. So we did. After several tests, which I hated so much, the lady neurologist told us that I’m epileptic, and I am already having seizures. She tried to trace the reason on why I had this illness, she went back to my family background, and none of my relatives on both sides have epilepsy. She thought maybe there was some sort of an accident that might triggered it. My mother told her about an incident when I was still a young boy, I had an accident wherein a nail got through my head. I do not remember that accident; however, I still see the skid mark it left whenever I had my hair shaved. Even up to this moment, I still take medicinal maintenance to prevent my seizures.

When I was still in high school, I was actually one of the brightest students in the class, I belong to different youth organizations, clubs, councils and entered different contests and factions just to please my parents and myself. I was considered as one of the good boys of the school. I never got into trouble regarding fighting with other students. I befriended most of them, especially in our batch. But I despise some of my teachers, to the point of disobeying them and answering back. I was a pro-student, a messenger, and a voice of the youth back then. I was an officer of the student council, the science club, the values formation team, knights of the altar, and a member of different organizations such as the arts and crafts club, eureka math club, and a contributor of the school paper, the HEY! newsletter. I both do sketches and articles for the said paper. I actually enjoyed doing all of it. Well… almost.

Most of the people I knew, especially my teachers, believed that I was one of the students who had enriching values. You see, I tend to maintain a good image, not because I want to, but because I had to. I belong to a well-known family here in our place. My mom is a well-respected chemistry teacher who works in the same school I’m studying, my dad is a renowned artist, who happens to be one of the founders of a critically acclaimed art group in our province, and his sister is my principal, who is actually married to our town’s vice-mayor. Everything is actually complicated at that time, and I never wanted my life to be that way, so I had to hide everything about me. The real me.

I first tried smoking when I was in grade three. I remember I had a school record together with my friends and our parents were invited to the principal’s office afterwards. But when I reached high school, I discretely started smoking and drinking with my classmates everytime we get the hang of it. We watched porn movies back then and did a couple of stuff that people might misinterpret back then. I did a lot of bad things at the back of my parents. They never knew about it. I never told them. I was so busy engaging myself into the evil world that I forgot all about the meaning of the word “life”. I was hiding inside a mask. My favorite icon. I used to call myself "The Mask" when I was in high school. I believed this is what I’ve been doing all along. Hiding behind the mask. A face that I never had.

I am pretty much the man in the iron mask.

CHAPTER TWO

War against the Machines

Like what I told you, I belong from a well-known family in our town. And because of that, I got very much pressured with the expectations of our family. So I ended up doing things on my own. I started hating my father for his treatment, I started hating my aunt for her conduct towards me, and I started hating myself for the life I have been living. I could not see my own flaws, my own mistakes, my own sins, and was blaming everybody else for my own blunders and slip-ups. And so I entered into several vices and did even more damage to my own body. I got hooked with drinking, gambling, smoking, drug intakes, and I flirted with several women for personal pleasure. I did all of these as a sign of rebellion against God, my parents, my relatives, and myself. And I was on the verge of death.

When I first went to college, I didn’t realize I would be stuck into trouble as often as the sun shines in the morning. My vices started to increase as soon as I graduated high school. It felt like I escaped from a contaminated prison hell. I did everything into my pleasure’s delight. I drank ’till the morning came, smoked ‘till my lungs popped out, and pushed myself to the limits. I took different types of drugs; shabs, coke, party, steroids, mj, tabs, pills, shrooms, you name it! Almost everyday, I was so high in drugs that I sometimes forget the things I’ve been doing, and the things I’m supposed to do. I was with my friends all the time and did everything I wanted to do… well… sort of.

I studied at a very prominent and renowned university in Manila. I had friends and schoolmates who were close to me since they also do the same vices that I had. So instead of studying, I ended up doing vices even more, womanizing, gambling, taking drugs, cutting classes for drinking sessions, and doing things at my own will. So I got kicked out of school because of my addiction. My relatives couldn’t take it any longer, and I do not have anybody to trust and rely on. So I ended up even more miserable than usual.

My parents told me to move to my aunt’s place and study there instead of hanging out in my old university. There, I studied at a very small computer school and I became what most people call "a big fish in a small pond". I was at the top of my game. The only problem is I still have my vices.

I had friends from high places there. We hang out together. Do weird things and stuff. Being with them makes my life so much complicated than it was before. All we did was drink, party, do drugs, and end up in trouble. I had a couple of fights to some people although I did not really originate from that place. I had all the power I can have because of the friends I met there. We did so much trouble to some people that they ended up begging for their lives or in the hospital with serious injuries. Some, even worst…

We came up with an idea of how to raise money to sustain our vices. We did illegal stuff and started dealing with some of my friends’ relatives so that the business will flourish. First, we sold drugs to college students and those people who are not studying anymore. We first did a couple of jobs and then ended up with regular clients. We were earning a lot of money but it was easily laundered due to our regular intakes of drugs. Abuse of the body is our main problem at that time.

When we could not supply our vices anymore, and revenues aren’t enough, we decided to sell something else. Guns. We had common likeness and enthusiasm regarding guns, so we decided, why not sell them too? And so we did. We became the youngest and one of the top dealers of guns and drugs in that place. We became a popular group, with 5 leaders, me together with my 4 friends belonging to high places. We called ourselves "Lords", just like in medieval England, and I was one of the 5 Lords. We even had fights with different groups organizing in that place and no one, not even the cops, could stop us. It was hell with war and the war continued for 2 years. We were fighting with our beliefs and doing things that destroyed the lives of many. There was no magic at all. Everything is hell. And all the plots regarding troubles, group fights, cop fights are plotted out by one of the Lords.

The Lord of War.

Me.

CHAPTER THREE

Battle for Middle-Earth

I and the other Lords are so much into group fights back then, and we did a lot of damage to other people’s lives. Most people hated us for what we did. Some of them liked us, not because they liked what we were doing, but because they needed something from us. Guns. Drugs. The market was very good. Business is running so well. But we became aware that the world we were walking through is getting smaller and smaller, shrinking until we can’t move any longer. People started to despise us, hate us; they were beginning to be afraid of us. Well, they should be. We’ve been doing the work of the devil for quite a long time and we became masters of it, in our very own way. We had so many enemies. The cops are after us, the competition is getting high, and the number of people we pissed off is getting higher and higher. We became much aware of the situation and so we tried to be very careful. Extra ammunition and protection were needed. Since I was the Lord of War, I added 5 more units in my team. The rest did the same thing. Everyone became cautious to what might happen next.

While all of this is continuously happening, business still continued to flourish. Revenues continued to rise higher and higher. And money continued to cash in. Our vices were never put to an end, instead, dosage became higher and higher since taking drugs became a big part of our system.

One time, I had a drinking session with my friends and some of our men after playing a little softball. We brought all our equipment with us, I had my steel baseball bat, and some of my friends had their gloves and stuff. We were so drunk on alcohol and at the same time, so high on drugs that we did a lot of weird stuff. In the middle of the session, a group of men went to approach us. We never recognized them at first, but when they got closer and closer, we realized that they were the competition! They were very pissed off with us because we became more popular and we stole most of their clients, especially the college students who became our regular clients for drug trafficking.

I realized they were going to attack us, so I grabbed my bat lying behind me and signaled my friends and my men to be ready. When they got close enough, I gripped my bat and got ready to kick some butt. One of them flipped the table we were using and all the beers, food, and glassware placed at the table crashed to pieces at the floor. I then started hitting people with my bat. Everyone got so furious, and it was like a very big battle against each other.

I saw one of the opposing leaders and I realized he was one of my greatest enemies. I then thought that it was the best time to whack him since he was facing the other direction. Without hesitation, I quickly hit him at the back, aiming at the back of his head. He fell down on his knees and lay down facing the floor. I then thought he’s a goner, although I never saw blood coming out of the area where I hit him. I just thought he’s dead.

Everyone started running afterwards into different directions. We never came back to that place again for quite some time. And you’ll never believe what happened next…

CHAPTER FOUR

Inside The Coliseum

That night, I was so high on drugs, at the same time so drunk in so much alcohol that I felt like my head is starting to pop out. I went home feeling so bad and thinking that what happened earlier that afternoon was somewhat not really good at all. In fact, guilt is actually killing me already. I never felt that way before. It was so horrible that I actually couldn’t sleep that night. I was wearing my boxers, a sleeveless shirt, and a pair of sleepers before I went to bed, until something happened. Something I never expected happened.

Someone knocked on the door. It was very late that night and we weren’t expecting any visitors at all. My aunt was already fast asleep and only I and my uncle had kept awake for quite some time. My uncle opened the door and he saw two cops waiting outside, talking politely to him, looking for somebody, I think. I went out of my room to check it out, and when the two cops immediately saw me, they asked for my name. I gave them mine and then they started talking about a warrant of arrest and they want to invite me at the station for a few questioning. I started to panic and told my uncle that I never want to come, but the two cops were very, very persistent. I went along with my uncle by my side, while my aunt, who has a very complicated heart failure, is fast asleep.

At the station, the two cops were questioning me regarding the incident that afternoon. They found out that there was one man who died in a gang war. They said that he was hit by something hard at the back of his head. The hit never created any flesh wound, causing to have blood clots in the brain of the victim, resulting to his death. They said there were some people who saw us drinking at the scene before it happened, and they eventually identified us for we were already popular at the said place. I was stunned and I didn’t know what to do, so all I said was I don’t know anything about it.

They have me stayed at a cell for the night until everything clears out and they want to make sure I will not escape. After all, I AM still wanted for murder. I will only be cleared if someone paid for my bail. Since it was late night already, my uncle could not get any money. So, I was forced to stay at a cell.

After going inside, I then realized that most of the people inside were actually looking at my legs, my skin, almost my whole body. I actually have a white complexion and I am still wearing my boxers and my sleeveless shirt. Some people would try to grab my ass, while some whistle like they want to have me… sexually. I was so frightened that I started screaming to my uncle for help, that I don’t want to be left there. Then, at the minute I started crying, someone approached me, a 50-year old guy, who at first, I thought wants to have a piece of me too. But then he started telling me that everything will be alright, and he will protect me. He said that he was charged with multiple crimes; murder, rape, and arson. He will be staying in jail for the rest of his life and he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to me. He said that I still have a future to look forward to, only if I will make the best out of the present. He’s the first one to tell me that making mistakes in life is definitely normal, that’s one of the easiest ways to learn what’s right and what’s wrong. Doing the same mistake again is definitely out of hand, it’s like escaping to the truth that doing the right thing is actually what’s best for everybody. I kinda like it the way he said it. He’s like a father talking to a son. But then something happened. The guys behind us started to get furious. They still want a piece of me! I don’t want to get sexually abused by them! They are all men! So, the guy I was talking about do something about it. Right at that moment, he then started fighting those men like he was only picking up dirt off the floor! He’s so good that no man could stop him.

That night, I went to sleep, confident that no one would dare touch me. For my savior was actually awake all night, listening to every voice, watching to every move, and fast deciding to what should be done in case they tried to touch me again. I felt relieved for a little, knowing that what the guy told me is the truth. He’s right all along. I still have a chance. And I have to do something about it. Right now.

The next morning, I was bailed out by my friends from high places, the other "Lords". They found out about what happened so they decided to have a meeting about it. The meeting was all about what we did that afternoon of the crime. And it was one hell of a meeting…

CHAPTER FIVE

The Hours

After what happened to me, from the moment I was caught, and up to the time my "co-Lords" bailed me out, it was then the time I had to stood up and make a decision, a decision I know I won’t regret for the rest of my life here on earth. I was stunned by what happened and after thinking about it for several times, I realized I had to stand up for what I believe in and tell it straight to the faces of my so-called "friends".

I was sure that time that I had to think of something so that I could get out of the mess I got into. I don’t want to harden my life after what happened to me. I was certain the moment had arrived to do the best I can to stop it. I had to quit the organization. And I had to tell it all by myself.

My "co-Lords" arranged a meeting for the five of us. We had a closed-door meeting in one of our hideouts, and the agenda was mainly about what happened the day before I was bailed out of jail. Everyone was shocked, not because something horrible happened, but because the cops found out about us. Everyone was afraid, not because there’s a dead man on our trail, but because we might get caught and the operations will come to end. Everyone was thinking the same thing, feeling the same fear, paranoid of the same concept, everyone but me.

I was not shocked for the cops knew what happened; I was shocked for I never imagined myself killing someone. I was not afraid that we might get caught and the operations will come to end, rather I was afraid that what I did was wrong, and I did not do anything about it. I was not paranoid of the whole idea that the death of someone might be the end of our careers, rather I was paranoid of the idea that I did something wrong, or even worse… something evil.

At the middle of the meeting, I then stood up for what I believe in. I told them that I don’t want to be a part of the organization anymore. That I don’t want to do the things that we’ve been doing for the last two years, and that I don’t want to lead my men to hell. In short, I want out.

At first everyone was shocked. All four of them. I don’t know if I was just paranoid or something, but after I told them that I want out, I began daydreaming of the things that I saw in action movies. Most people who want out of their illegal organizations never came out alive. They were allowed to quit but their bodies were found dead afterwards in a distant river or the office or even by a hit-and-run. I began to frighten myself after I told them what I feel. And it was a nightmare in the middle of the afternoon I will never forget for the rest of my life.

The nightmare was then interrupted when one of my friends began talking about him wanting to get out too. He said that he had to manage their business in the states so he could not stay any longer with us. After that, everybody was talking about getting out, quitting the organization, and moving out of the country. I then realized that these guys were actually afraid too of what happened, and they were already thinking of their own personal alibis just to get out, without noticing their fear and their paranoia. I was different. I told them what I really felt that moment. That I don’t want to see dead bodies no more. The killing and the selling should come to an end once and for all.

Of course, our problems were never solved after that meeting. We agreed on one thing and one thing only; that we should all quit. But the real problem arises; what shall we tell to our men? And how will they take it? Will they go with us? Or against us?

CHAPTER SIX

Doing the Right Thing

After me and my "co-Lords" had that meeting, which turned out really fine, we decided to spill out the news to our men. We knew that they would not take it the good enough, for most of them depended in the organization too much. Some are just too afraid of us that they don’t have a word coming out of their mouths. We actually predicted already that these guys will not take us seriously by the time we tell them that we want out of the organization. And that’s what troubles me. Very much, I say.

We had our weekly meeting for arrangement of our goods and stuff. Our men are always included in that weekly meeting, so that assignments will be very clear and actions will be precise. That time, we wanted to tell them the news about us, the "Lords", wanting out of the organization. And so, we did. We told them what transpired in the meeting and we thought everything was already perfectly clear, crystal clear. But it turns out to be worse than we’ve expected. One of our men stood up and told us that we’re not capable anymore of handling the organization, and everything’s messed up, and so, he wanted to take over everything, be the boss, be the man, be the new "Lord".

Of course, we don’t want that kind of stuff to happen, although we don’t want to continue with what we were doing, we still don’t want anyone taking over our firm. We started it, we created it, we established it, earned a lot of money from it, and we’re the ones who’ll put a stop to it. And any scumbag who dares to take over our firm is definitely a pain in our necks, and something should be done about it, at least that was our principle that time.

By just standing up to what that jerk believes in and wanting to take over our organization, some of our men turned their backs against us and followed his way. He then created his own firm, and became one of our deadliest and most feared rivals. Of course, we began fearing him, for all his thoughts and views, all his concepts, all his beliefs, came from the combined minds of 5 different Lords. And because of that, we knew what he’s capable of doing, when he’s going to do it, and how’s he planning to do it. It’s like fighting your own shadow, only better than you. Better than everybody else.

Few of our men retained with the firm, but eventually, they then started to realize that we had a good point. It must come to an end. So, after a few realizations of some sorts, they ended up doing the same thing, quitting, just like what we did.

We thought the nightmares will finally come to an end, only to realize that it was just the beginning of another tragedy… something that we regretted for the rest of our lives…