Crash-landed On An Island With Nine Beauties

Damien had stopped at a clothing store and bought new clothes. A simple blue top, whitewashed jean pants and a pair of his favorite all-star shoes. He had kept the timberland in the system store.

He pushed the glass and fancy door of the office open and stepped in. He was greeted by a sort of coziness. Something fake and unnatural. For the past two months he had been used to only natural breeze. Probably by time, he would get used to the AC.

There was a man seated at a work table. He had white overall lab coat on. A pair of lens seated on the rim of his big nose. His face bent on goodness-knew-what he was busied with. A doctor. Damien in a hospital.

"How may I help you?"

The doctor asked without looking up.

"Uhmm... I'm Damien."

"Damien who?"

Damien moved closer to the table, standing behind the chair locked to that side of the table.

"My grandpa was admitted here about two months ago. He was due to be released two weeks later, at that point in time. But one thing led to the other and I wasn't able to come see him. Do you by any means have an idea where he is?"

"What's the name of your grandpa?"

The doctor asked yet without looking up.

"Thomas Loinglot."

When Damien mentioned the name of his grandpa, the doctor stopped writing. He raised his head at Damien.

"If I get you right, you mean you are coming back after two months of Thomas's death?"

The doctor shook his head, contempt crawling into his face. Then he dropped his head again and resumed what he was doing earlier. "Wait... what... he... he did what?"

Damien heard the words clearly and loudly, yet it seemed kinda remote to him. As though the doctor had spoken in gibberish or Sumerian.

Though he had prepared his mind for something like this. About two months ago, he remembered that the doctor had talked about the slim chance of his Grandpa's survival to be about %12 percent. Yet he couldn't accept the news. He didn't want to. He wasn't even trying to make the effort. His heart had crumbled in his chest. He felt tears reaching at his throat, his eyes about to make a fuss. He denied the emotions. He didn't plan to cry for a reason which he hadn't proven to be true yet.

"What do you mean he died? How could say that he died? Perhaps you don't know whom I am talking about? Perhaps you think I am ---"

"Thomas Loinglot, a fisherman whose whole family turned their backs on but refused to kick out his grandson whom many believe to be the cause and source of his bad luck. Who doesn't know his story?" The doctor took a pause.

"Does that ring a bell now?"

The doctor shut the doors of his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Now, if you don't have anything else, please shut the door behind you. I'm quite busy."

Damien bowed to the doctor and turned. He walked out of the office.

He wasn't mad at the doctor because of what the doctor had just said. About him being a bad luck to his grandpa. It was nothing new. He had heard it all his life. It had even become a hymn in his ear when people say it. Sometimes, he would help people complete the statement when they had picked on him.

Why did you think his stepmom kicked him out of the apartment after the death of his father? In short, every bad thing that happened to his family members were always tied to him.

When his father died, many said he was the cause. Why wouldn't they say that? After all, his real mother died while giving birth to him. He didn't know the truth until he was old enough.

But knowing the truth meant nothing having a stepmom who is a metaphor for a beast.

He stopped a cab and got into it. He gave an address and the cab driver drove on.

He was trying so hard to hold back the tears. He didn't want to believe what the doctor had said.

"How could that happen? No way, it couldn't."

The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. He looked away.

The cab pulled over a dirty and bad street. Damien stepped off the cab and handed the bill to the driver.

"Hey..."

The driver called at him when he turned to walk away. He didn't want to heed the call but then had a change of mind.

He wouldn't be surprised if the driver continue from where the doctor stopped.

"Sometimes things happen that we can't change. That's what destiny is. All we can do is accept the truth, no matter how hard and devastating it seems. Else, we'll be doing more harm than good to ourselves." Damien turned away from the driver without saying a thing. Perhaps because he wasn't expecting such kind and sweet words. After all, he wasn't used to things like that. Cusses, insults, swears and physical abuses were what he fed on.

He ran through the puddles, jumping carelessly into the big potholes, soaking his pant in mud and dirt. He just wanted to prove it all wrong.

He kept on running until he got to his neighborhood. Where he used to live in. There was a gate hanging by only one bolt. He knocked the gate open, making it fall off.

He rushed to the room. The room which himself and his grandpa used to live in.

There was a file of rooms on that single block. And that neighborhood was the poorest in the state. The cheapest across the country. Now you understand how wretchedly and poorly he used to lived. When he got to the front of the room, his jaws dropped, eyes widening. There was even a greater shock.

His clothes, shoes and bags made a heap at the front of the door. The clothes and shoes had all lost their colors and qualities. He could tell just by looking at them.

He could tell that it had rain and sunned on his stuffs over and over again. Someone must have thrown his stuff out.

"Oh fuck me... yes daddy... fuck me..."

Came a sudden flirtatious voice from inside the room. He sniffled and gritted his teeth, throwing his head up to breathe in. He gulped, licked his lower lip then walked to the door.

He pushed the door opened. It was unlocked.

When he walked in, he found his uncle on a lady, thrusting deep into her. They didn't notice the door opening, let alone someone standing over them.

HE THREW MY THINGS OUT AND CLAIMED MY PLACE?

That was one of the millions of thoughts tumbling over one another in his mind.

"Where is grandpa?"

Damien called out, but as softly as possible.

"Ahh... who's this bastard?"

The man arced his head to look at who the intruder was. Without pulling out. His eyes squinted when he saw Damien.

"Look... waah... this foolish boy. Where have you been?"

This man was the one who abused him the most. He was a gambler and an addict. He had ruined his career and chance of buying a house by gambling and doing drugs. He had even been to the prison many times. And Damien dread him because he was ruthless. But not anymore.

To top it all, the man loves women. And he had such a strange charm that makes him get whatever woman he wants. One of the many reasons Damien felt out of league.

"Where is grandpa?"

Damien asked again, not willing to change the topic. His mind was blank, that was the only thing he could see.

"If it's not because I'm in her... I should beat some sense into you. How could you return just now only to order me around."

The man used on his hands to shoo Damien away,

"Go away... away... go to the back field, you'll find his corpse. Go go... go along... stop ruining my fun with your bad luck."

"The back field?"

That was the only detail Damien chose. He turned and ran out of the house.

"Hey bastard? Where do you think you are going? We were glad that your bad luck took you away far from us... only for you to return. And you didn't even return in peace, you broke the gate. How are we supposed to keep the thieves away?"

"Do you want to die? Look at whom we are talking to."

Noticing that these two women, neighbors would slow him down.

"Zoom!"

Damien called and off he went.

"Huh? What happened now?"

"Am I sleepwalking?"

In a matter of time, Damien was at the entrance of the back field. He couldn't understand why his uncle told him that grandpa was in that field.

The back field was a trash place. Where people dumped refuse and garbage. The people of this neighborhood were so poor that they couldn't even pay trash trucks to help move garbages. That was why they made that place a shithole.

The place not only stank like devil's butthole but had the highest heaps of garbages you will ever see. Garbages high as mountain.

But then Damien allowed himself to believe that probably things changed in two months and corpses were being buried there now.

Entering into the field, Damien could see trash everywhere. He didn't know where to search. But with the help of the system, he was able to locate something really devastating.

A mound of earth which had a wooden tag on it,

TAKE ALL THE BAD LUCK AWAY, OLD FAG.

Damien heart crumbled in his chest. He didn't even think that he had a heart anymore. He dropped on his knees by the mound of earth where his father had been buried.

"No... no... no..."

He kept saying as his eyes began to be flooded. It was a matter of time before he started to wail. His left hand clutched to his chest, the right hitting his head. "Foolish Damien... foolish... why did you leave him here alone all by himself... why did you go to the trip... why... why?"

He wailed, crying his eyes out as he fell face down in the mound.

The clouds which were cheerful, suddenly became moody, and joined him to mourn. The clouds seemed to be the only lot that cared about him.