The Unsafe Haven

Chapter 1

What do you fear the most?

Spiders?

Heights?

Disappointing someone?

Being alone?

Nor death without living your life?

Perhaps, these are few of the common fears we knew among others, but to tell what do I fear? There’s none of them on the list.

This might be unusual but my fear is nothing but to be with a guy on my age.

Androphobia. [noun]. A type of phobia in which someone has fear of being with a man. This is me. This is really I am aside from being timid and having huge reading glasses.
Still in my 20s, this phobia won’t find its way to blur off to my helpless mind. I grew up being afraid to contact with guys with my age. Albeit this is weird but even myself won’t fathom this kind of anxiety. Perhaps this phobia had with me since I was bullied by a tall, sixth-grade boy classmate who was really meant to be the heinous homophobic in the whole cosmos. If my memory serves me right, he always made fun at me such as putting notes written “bakla” (faggot) at my back, teasing me in front of the other students in the school hallway and the worst, locking me up in the comfort room one Friday afternoon which made me felt horror about three nights as I was discovered and freed when Monday classes resume. That was an unforgettable nightmare that marked a painful scar in my young, susceptible mind. And with those experiences, I became aloof and little by little, built some walls for those boys at my ages who attempted to meddle my existence. Having an anti-social perspective had brought me to be an academically-inclined person— spending my entire life only on my studies which wired me a great intellect. Perhaps this is my only way to be respected and rid myself off from those homophobes aside from being a formal, secretly flamboyant gay …

[TYPING]

“Cloven, nak, male-late ka na!”, my mom shouted.

“Opo, Ma. Bababa na!”

My mom and I are only living on the same roof. My father died when I was eight because of a health complication.

I abruptly saved the unfinished document and closed my laptop. I hurriedly got my stuffs and headed downstairs.

“Ba’t ang bagal mo kumilos?” She asked while fixing my collar. She always did that every time I go outside.

“May tinatapos lang ho akong article para sa campus paper.” I reasoned out.

“Ah ganun ba, nak? Sige na…kilos na at baka mahuli ka pa sa klase!”

Afterwards, I hastily got my blue-coated bicycle.

“Cloven, anak?” I glanced up to her, “Be safe, ha! Uwi kaagad pagkatapos ng klase!”

I had just given her a smile for an assurance and bid my goodbye.

“This is a long journey, Clove!”, I convinced my mind as I started to pedal my bike.

Fast as a racing car, I managed my speed just to be on time in my first class. This was the 2nd week of my university life. I’m a freshman taking Bachelor of Arts in English language. Actually, our family relatives were asking me to shift courses related to business or engineering after they had found out that I major English. Well, my mom had no problem with it and I did not care what might people say. I love writing so I am glad that I pursue it in tertiary years.