ACE POV
Staring at the night sky while everyone else is busy with their own lives—especially my parents, if I can still call them that—makes me feel more alone than ever.
They don't care about me anyway. They can't even provide for my needs. More often than not, it's my grandmother and aunt who take care of me. When I'm sick, they're the ones who look after me, or sometimes it's our head maid, Nanay Gloria or Nanay Ria, as we call her.
I'm here on our balcony on the third floor, feeling the cold air on my face while wearing my tuxedo. My so-called parents have thrown another party at our mansion. I don't know the reason, but it's probably about their business again.
People might think being born rich means you're happy and lucky. But for me, it’s the opposite.
How can I feel happy and lucky when my own family doesn't see me as their child? It feels like their blood doesn't run in my veins.
If I feel unlucky, the opposite is true for my sister. She feels like the princess of this house. She always gets what she wants, especially the care from our parents that I’ve always longed for.
They take care of her when she's sick, give her the attention she needs, celebrate her every little achievement, and even take her out even if she gets a zero on her exams. She's the favorite child, the lucky charm of the family, the one they always prioritize—the perfect one, the perfect Perez for them.
Meanwhile, I always do well at school. I ace my exams, quizzes, and other activities. I never get into fights. I do things on my own, yet they still call me ungrateful, a spoiled brat, an attention seeker, the child they wish they had aborted.
They say that at the age of 11, I already have a mature mind and I'm taller than other kids my age, making it seem like I'm not a child. Some say I'm gifted. Not to brag, but I'm good at sports, drawing, painting, singing, and dancing. Math, their most hated subject, is my favorite.
I hear footsteps approaching, and from the scent and the way she walks, I know it's my grandmother.
"Hijo, andito ka lang pala. Halika sa baba at kumain na tayo. Hindi ka pa kumakain simula kaninang tanghalian."
How I wish she were my real mother. She’s the only one who notices I haven’t eaten since lunch.
I don't feel like eating anyway, which is why I skipped two meals earlier.
I didn’t respond to her, not out of disrespect, but because I just don’t feel like talking. They’re used to my silence.
I hold my grandmother's hand as we make our way to the kitchen. I don't exactly know how old she is; she never tells us. But despite that, she still looks young, like she’s in her mid-forties.
The party is in our garden and pool area. I can hear the loud music blaring through my ears even though we’re still far from the backdoor.
It's so annoying. I hate loud noises. Maybe Lola noticed my irritation, which is why she answered the question in my mind.
"Don't worry, apo, malapit na matapos ang party. Mag-aalas-tres na rin."
She gently led me to a chair and served me food, something my mother has never done for me.
"Ang kapatid mo hijo, nakita mo ba? Wala siya sa kwarto niya nung sinilip ko siya kanina bago tayo bumaba," she asked, but I only shrugged my shoulders while looking into her eyes.
She nodded and got me some orange juice from the refrigerator. I noticed she was already sleepy and tired, probably exhausted from the party. She and my aunt still need to go to Manila later at 7 am. They came here just to check on me, not for the party. They don't care about that.
"Lola, go upstairs now. You need to rest. Thank you for taking care of me."
I spoke in a low voice while looking into her eyes again. Her eyes softened, and a sweet smile spread across her lips. She patted my head and kissed my forehead before whispering a small good night and "I love you."
"Night, Lola. I love you too."
She went upstairs immediately while I finished my food. I felt so full already, but I didn’t want to waste it.
I ended up eating the whole plate and then washing the dishes I used because I didn't want to be called a useless, spoiled burden again.
After doing the dishes, I decided to grab some milk and bring it to my room, but before I could go upstairs, I noticed a piece of ripped paper on the first step of the stairs. Being the curious kid I am, I picked it up and looked at it.
‘Trust me, one day, I'll be too tired to chase your attention. One day, I'll be too tired to care about you, and one day, I might just give up on you. So please don't let me get to that phase.’
It seemed like it was meant for someone, but maybe they dropped it or decided to throw it away.
But I’m already tired of chasing their attention. I’m already tired of caring about them, and I’ve already given up on them. I’m in that phase right now.
Guess this letter or whatever it is will go to the trash can now. I brought it to my room because I decided to put it in my journal. It's my only way of coping, so yeah, don't judge me.
I made my way to my room, and when I said I was shocked, furious, and annoyed, I really meant it.
There in my bed was my sister, sleeping again. Seriously? What is she doing here again?
Ignoring her snoozing peacefully in my bed, I went to my bathroom and cleaned myself up. After 25 minutes, I finished my bath and just lay on my sofa bed after drinking my milk.
I'm not that bad, you know. It would be shallow to wake her up just because she's sleeping peacefully in my bed, which is supposed to be mine.
Besides, she is still a kid. Yeah, a kid. A kid who's scared of the boogeyman under the bed. A kid who still needs our parents to calm her down during thunderstorms. A kid who still needs them.
But I'm a kid too! I never experienced any of that with my parents!
“Uyaa,” she said in a low, sweet, innocent voice. Guess she's having a nightmare.
"Uyaa," she whispered again as small sobs began to escape her small pink lips.
I walked to my bed and lay beside her. I put one arm under her head and the other around her waist.
As soon as she felt me beside her, her sobs slowly turned into whimpers as she hugged me back.
“Uya, monsters. Can't sleep,” she muttered saka nag sumiksik saakin.
“Sleep. I'll fight the monsters off if they come to get you,” I told her as I soothingly caressed her back. She might always be annoying, but I won’t let her feel the way I do. I’m damaged, but I’ll never hurt anyone the same way I’ve been hurt.
“Uya, wakey wakey. School.”
I woke up to Alisha's voice. I nodded and told her to go out of my room.
It's currently 5:30 AM. Our class starts at 8:00 AM, but since no one will help me get ready, I need to wake up early.
I took a nice bath and wore my uniform. My aunt enrolled me in an elite school for all grades, where Alisha also studies.
My parents had no plans to send me to school, so my aunt took over. They pay for my tuition and attend school meetings. One call and they rush here from Manila.
It’s not a long trip, only an hour and a half from Manila to our province.
We live in a quiet place, away from neighbors. The mansion is surrounded by trees. The Dela Cruz-Perez family owns many properties, from water to land, with their last name engraved on them.
I will admit that the Dela Cruz-Perez family is crazy rich. It's like money runs in their veins. They’re old money.
But no matter how rich my family is, they still choose not to give me what I need. Even just that, I’d be okay.
I quietly made my way to the kitchen with my bag slung over my shoulder. There I found Lola, Aunt, Alisha, and my so-called parents having breakfast.
“Hijo, you're up. Come and eat.”
I sat next to Lola as she served me food.
“Ma, let him do that. He can handle it. You're spoiling him,” my mother snapped at Lola.
“Alliya, are you out of your mind? What do you think of your son?!"
Lola shouted at my mom, causing her to roll her eyes. I could tell Lola was about to burst in anger, so I held her hand, letting her know it was okay.
I really hate it when they argue at the table. Like, show some respect, please. You’re in front of food.
“Alisha, my angel. Do well in school, okay? Always behave,” my mom reminded Alisha, fixing her uniform.
They walked ahead of me to take Alisha to school while I would be driven by our driver.
Lola is the one who hired him. He’s not just my driver; he’s all-in-one. He can be my body guard, my cook, my teacher, my big brother, and he can also be my dad. His name is Kuya Daryl, a 27-year-old single man living his best life. He has a muscular body and a handsome face, making the girls go crazy over him. As far as I know, he came from an orphanage, but I don't care about that.
“Hijo, always remember that we love you, okay? Behave and always do your best. We’re heading back to Manila soon,” Lola reminded me as she stood beside Aunt.
I nodded as they kissed my forehead and told me how much they love me again.
“Ready to go to school?” Kuya Daryl asked with a warm smile as he approached.
I nodded, feeling a bit more at ease in his presence. We headed to the car, and he opened the door for me. As we drove to school, I looked out the window, lost in my thoughts.
The drive to school was always a mixture of emotions for me. I felt a sense of relief to be away from the mansion, but also a pang of loneliness knowing that, unlike my classmates, I didn't have parents who cared enough to send me off with a smile.
We arrived at the school, and Kuya Daryl walked me to the gate. “Have a great day, hijo. Remember, I’ll be here to pick you up later,” he said, ruffling my hair.
“Thanks, Kuya Daryl,” I replied, managing a small smile before heading inside.
As I walked through the halls of the elite school, I felt familiarity sense of detachment. Most of the students here were like me, coming from wealthy families, but their lives seemed perfect compared to mine. They had parents who attended their school events, celebrated their achievements, and showed them love and care.
I headed to my classroom and took my seat. The morning passed in a blur of lectures and assignments. I excelled in my studies, but it brought me no joy. It was just something I did to fill the void left by my parents' neglect.
During lunch, I sat alone at my usual spot under a tree. I pulled out my diary and the ripped paper I found last night. I read the words again, feeling a strange connection to them. I taped the paper into my diary and wrote about my feelings, pouring my heart onto the pages.
After school, I waited by the gate for Kuya Daryl. He arrived promptly, and we headed back home. The mansion loomed large as we pulled into the driveway. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face another evening of feeling invisible.