"Bad Girl"

Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..

You! You! All of you!
How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I'm a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That's what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I'm a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you
most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father's love, yearning for a mother's care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks, peddlers and
racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own
understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you've got to help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!

2. "Juvenile Delinquent"

Am I a juvenile delinquent? I’m a teenager, I’m young, young at heart in mind. In

this position, I’m carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure. I
seldom go to school, nobody cares!. But instead you can see me roaming around.
Standing at the nearby canto (street). Or else standing beside a jukebox stand
playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons, why people, you
branded me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected

me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life.
Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to
dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I turned to my father
to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks,
get it and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing
me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100
by 5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
that’s not what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strengthen her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected

me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life.
Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to
dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I turned to my father
to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks,
get it and enjou yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing
me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100
by 5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
that’s not what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strenghten her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.

3. "The Unpardonable Crime"

Only one living creature seemed to take any notice of his existence:
this was an old St. Bernard, who used to come and lay his big head with its
mournful eyes on Christophe's knees when Christophe was sitting on the seat in
front of the house. They would look long at each other. Christophe would not drive
him away Unlike the sick Goethe, the dog's eyes had no uneasiness for him Unlike
him, he had no desire to cry:
"Go away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch me, whatever thou doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed by the dog's suppliant sleepy eyes
and to help the beast: he felt that there must be behind them an imprisoned soul
imploring his aid.

In those hours when he was weak with suffering, torn alive away from life, devoid
of human egoism, he saw the victims of men, the field of battle in which man
triumphed in the bloody slaughter of all other creatures: and his heart was filled
with pity and horror. Even in the days when he had been happy he had always
loved the beasts: he had never been able to bear cruelty towards them: he had
always had a detestation of sport, which he had never dared to express for fear of
ridicule: but his feeling of repulsion had been the secret cause of the apparently
inexplicable feeling of dislike he had had for certain men: he had never been able
to admit to his friendship a man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It was not
sentimentality: no one knew better than he that life is based on suffering and infinite
cruelty: no man can live without making others suffer. It is no use closing our eyes
and fobbing ourselves off with words. It is no use either coming to the conclusion
that we must renounce life and sniveling like children. No. We must kill to live, if,
at the time, there is no other means of living. But the man who kills for the sake of
killing is a miscreant. An unconscious miscreant, I know. But, all the same, a
miscreant. The continual endeavor of man should be to lessen the sum of suffering
and cruelty: that is the first duty of humanity.

In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in Christophe's inmost heart. He

refused to think of them. What was the good? What could he do? He had to be
Christophe, he had to accomplish his work, live at all costs, live at the cost of the
weak. ... It was not he who had made the universe. . . . Better not think of it, better
not think of it. ...

But when unhappiness had dragged him down, him, too, to the level of the
vanquished, he had to think of these things. Only a little while ago he had blamed
Olivier for plunging into futile remorse and vain compassion for all the
wretchedness that men suffer and inflict. Now he went even farther: with all the
vehemence of his mighty nature he probed to the depths of the tragedy of the
universe: he suffered all the sufferings of the world, and was left raw and bleeding.
He could not think of the animals without shuddering in anguish. He looked into
the eyes of the beasts and saw there a soul like his own, a soul which could not
speak: but the eyes cried for it:

"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt me?" He could not bear to see the
most ordinary sights that he had seen hundreds of times —a calf crying in a wicker
pen, with its big, protruding eyes, with their bluish whites and pink lids, and white
lashes, its curly white tufts on its forehead, its purple snout, its knock-kneed legs:—
a lamb being carried by a peasant with its four legs tied together, hanging head
down, trying to hold its head up, moaning like a child, bleating and lolling its gray
tongue:—fowls huddled together in a basket:—the distant squeals of a pig being
bled to death:—a fish being cleaned on the kitchen-table. . . . The nameless
tortures which men inflict on such innocent creatures made his heart ache. Grant
animals a ray of reason, imagine what a frightful nightmare the world is to them: a
dream of cold-blooded men, blind and deaf, cutting their throats, slitting them open,
gutting them, cutting them into pieces, cooking them alive, sometimes laughing at
them and their contortions as they writhe in agony. Is there anything more
atrocious among the cannibals of Africa? To a man whose mind is free there is
something even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings
of men. For with the latter it is at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the
man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered
every day without a shadow of remorse. If any man were to refer to it, he would be
thought ridiculous.—And that is the unpardonable crime. That alone is the
justification of all that men may suffer. It cries vengeance upon God. If there exists
a good God, then even the most humble of living things must be saved. If God is
good only to the strong, if there is no justice for the weak and lowly, for the poor
creatures who are offered up as a sacrifice to humanity, then there is no such thing
as goodness, no such thing as justice.

4. "No Pardon For Me"

I'm sentenced.

Sentenced to life in this dank cell

of misery.
I can see the key-
it hangs there,
just out my finger's reach,
dangling there in a mock of freedom.

There will be no pardon for me,

no stay of this execution.

My life has convicted me

for crimes I did not commit.
My penalty meted out.
I followed every rule,
broke no laws,
have more than paid my fines
to society's shun upon me.

There was no fair trial,

no chance for me to plead my case.
The jurors were sent from hell,
quick to judgement
and showed no mercy
as they read their verdict.

Life/Death, what does it matter?

Its all the same in this prison.

I am but a mere victim,

the criminal has gotten away,
while I do the time
for fate's crimes against me.

I can't escape the hounds they'd release,

should I attemp escape,
for the walls and barbed wires
are too painful to scale
and the hounds would scent my fear.

So I sit here,
waiting...
waiting for the day they walk me
that longest mile,
waiting for the flow of their poison
to seep within' my veins.

That lethal injection

that will finally end this misery
of a soul so wrongfully convicted to die.
5. "The Plea of an Aborted Fetus"
LET THIS PRECIOUS ANGELS LIVE !

"SET ME FREE. LET ME LIVE, I DESERVE TO BE BORN, I WANT TO LIVE. FOR HEAVENS SAKE, HAVE PITY."

Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and mother, listen to my plea, listen to my story. I could have been
the 17th Lady President of the Philippines Republic, had you given me the chance to live, had you not
deprived me of my life, had you not taken away my privilege to be born.

Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started to generate in the womb of a
woman with six other children. My coming should be a herald of joy, a symbol of
love incarnate but to my mommy it was a burden, a problem, an additional mouth
to feed. To Dad, it was a mistake, an effect of Mom's carelessness for not taking
the contraceptive pills.

One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming was confirmed. It was a painful
decision. I could sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside the abortion room.
I was an unwanted child. No one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected being,
a tiny lump slowly forming into human being with human soul. I was already alive,
kicking, struggling. My heart was already beating and my thumb had already the
unique mark. As I was holding to my mother's womb a splash of heat came all
over me. I writhed in extreme pain.

-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not the flesh of your own flesh, the
blood of your own blood?"

The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting
it from my body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first part of me came out.

-- "Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I not Dad's pledge of love to you?"

Then it was followed by another rubber suction sucking the other part moving it
with force until both were fully amputated.

-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not God's image you promised to
love and protect?"

Then i felt shaken once, twice, several times until I do not know anymore what
has been going around. I gushed forth my last breath...
Then came the final blow, my head - the abortionist termed as No. I was totally
cut from my torso: total annihilation.

GONE IS MY CHANCE TO LEAD A HEALTHY NORMAL LIFE.

GONE IS MY CHANCE TO BEHOLD THE MANY LOVELY THINGS GOD CREATED

FOR US.

GONE IS THE PROMISE OF A BLISSFUL LIFE.

6. "I Killed Her"

I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that gave life to many,
killed her because of my love for her.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my
story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in
a slum district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith.
My mother brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape
the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I
might live a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned
the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through with flying
colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she
pinned the gold medal on my proud chest.

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of America.
I embraced my mother… tightly as I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I
whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world.

After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my
mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many,
came too late for the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the
grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of
study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"…
she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could get all your pain and
agonies…"

" Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill me… Let me die."
"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it."

God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.

I run to my room and came back with a syringe.

"Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…."

"Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled
water…..Mother…… Mother……. MOTHER……"

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water
which ended the sufferings of my mother.

Judge me….. Punish me………

GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!

7. “Conscience”
I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears can’t bring back my sister to life. My being brought here by my
conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear? O heart, forgive me for what I have done,
please bring peace to mind.

Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my memories that her life perished because of my
selfishness.

Since our childhood, I always believed that I was the favorite

She was my only sister.
of our dad. One night, while I was facing all about to the mirror, with my micro
mini, I puffed powder, when I saw Luisa’s face, reflecting in the mirror. "You can’t
get out tonight, Lucille." I heard a threatening tone from her. I turned to her, but
I can’t resist at her sharp stare at me. "And who says so, my dear sister?" "We are
to celebrate Momma’s death anniversary, you know that don’t you?" In a relaxed
and condescending voice, I replied "well I don’t care. I’m going out to party
tonight!"

Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted "Help Papa!" for I knew that it was
he. I pulled my hair, I tore my dress away as I was attacked by a squad of
monstrous creatures. When the door opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa was
holding my neck who was trying to make a rescue. But I cried so hard that made
Papa grew to the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the corner, where the head
of my poor sister was hit at the edge of the chair.

I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But when she lifted, I saw
a different sparkle in her tearful eyes. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" O my, Luisa, she went
out of her mind. I was not able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were
motionless. And before we returned to our senses, Luisa ran to the door and
proceeded to the open gate of our house. We followed her calling out her name.
"Luisa!" "Sister!" "Luisa" "Sister" "Luisa the Truck!" "Don’t cross the road, Luisa,
the truck don’t Don’t DON’T!"

The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters away from the truck.
I ran to her and embraced her. Blood was all over her face. In a low but distinct
voice she murmured, that made my heart break so much. She said, "Lucille, please
be a good girl. I love you. Please be a good girl ‘coz Papa loves you very much."

"Luisa? Luisa? Sister… sister!!!" From that moment I cried so hard for killing my
only sister, who loved and cared for me, even at the last moment of her life.

Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive me dear God,
Forgive me!

8. “Am I to be Blamed?”
They’re chasing me, they’re chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now, yes enough
for my starving mother and brothers.

Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me. Very well, officers? take me to your
headquarters. Good morning captain! no captain, you are mistaken, I was once a good girl, just like the
daughters. But time was, when I was reared in slums.
rest of you here. Just like any of your
But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My, father, mother, brothers, sisters
and I. But then, poverty enters the portals of our home. My father became jobless,
my mother got ill. The small savings that my mother had kept for our expenses
were spent. All for our daily needs and her needed medicine.

One night, my father went out, telling us that he would come back in a few minutes
with plenty of foods and money, but that was the last time I saw him. He went
with another woman. If only I could lay my hands on his neck I would wring it
without pain until he breaths no more. If you were in my place, you’ll do it, won’t
you Captain? What? you won’t still believe in me?. Come and I’ll show you a
dilapidated shanty by a railroad.
Mother, mother I’m home, mother? mother?!. There Captain, see my dead mother.
Captain? there are tears in your eyes? now pack this stolen money and return it
to the owner. What good would this do to my mother now? she’s already gone!
Do you hear me? she’s already gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have
done?

9. “A Glass of Cold Water”

Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks and a
pair of blinkering eyes.

I remember, somebody says that I look like my mother that I look like my mother. But that when she was
young.

Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I must get ready for the
party!

Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m coming!

"Child, are you still there?"

"Hmp! That’s my mama"

"Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of cold water?"

"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water."

"Mama, please, try to get it on your own."

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water!"

At the party, I danced and danced the whole night.

You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have to danced with everybody who
proposed to me. At last, the party is over. I’m very tired. Very, very tired.

So, I went home to tell mama what happened.

"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m home!" Nobody answers.

Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but she’s not there. Where is she? A-huh!
In the kitchen!

I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass on her hand. I
remember, she tried to get it.

Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!

10. “Vengeance Is Not Ours, It’s God’s”

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so
ragged.Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me.
Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you
know me five years ago?

have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother

Yes, five years of bitterness
and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed.

Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued.
Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side
pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find
you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet
were glued to the floor.

The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you
Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You
are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us.
Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.

We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of
Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they
were eating,

Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . .

Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but
it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He
had been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance,
vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor
invalid mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for
us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried
to show her the way to the hide-out.

Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were
firing from everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were
shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance,
vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.

But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not
the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words
from my mother before she died.

Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but
vengeance is sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . .

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child
so young, so thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . . It’s. . . .
God’s. . It’s…

11. Parricide
"Your honor, as I do not wish to go to an insane asylum, and as I even prefer death
to that, I will tell everything."I killed this man and this woman because they were
my parents."Now, listen, and judge me.

"A woman, having given birth to a boy, sent him out, somewhere, to a nurse. Did
she even know where her accomplice carried this innocent little being, condemned
to eternal misery, to the shame of an illegitimate birth; to more than that--to death,
since he was abandoned and the nurse, no longer receiving the monthly pension,
might, as they often do, let him die of hunger and neglect!

"The woman who nursed me was honest, better, more noble, more of a mother
than my own mother. She brought me up. She did wrong in doing her duty. It is
more humane to let them die, these little wretches who are cast away in suburban
villages just as garbage is thrown away.
"I grew up with the indistinct impression that I was carrying some burden of shame.
One day the other children called me a 'b-----'. They did not know the meaning of
this word, which one of them had heard at home. I was also ignorant of its meaning,
but I felt the sting all the same.

"I was, I may say, one of the cleverest boys in the school. I would have been a
good man, your honor, perhaps a man of superior intellect, if my parents had not
committed the crime of abandoning me.

"This crime was committed against me. I was the victim, they were the guilty ones.
I was defenseless, they were pitiless. Their duty was to love me, they rejected me.

"I owed them life--but is life a boon? To me, at any rate, it was a misfortune. After
their shameful desertion, I owed them only vengeance. They committed against
me the most inhuman, the most infamous, the most monstrous crime which can
be committed against a human creature.

"A man who has been insulted, strikes; a man who has been robbed, takes back
his own by force. A man who has been deceived, played upon, tortured, kills; a
man who has been slapped, kills; a man who has been dishonored, kills. I have
been robbed, deceived, tortured, morally slapped, dishonored, all this to a greater
degree than those whose anger you excuse.

"I revenged myself, I killed. It was my legitimate right. I took their happy life in
exchange for the terrible one which they had forced on me.
"You will call me parricide! Were these people my parents, for whom I was an
abominable burden, a terror, an infamous shame; for whom my birth was a
calamity and my life a threat of disgrace? They sought a selfish pleasure; they got
an unexpected child. They suppressed the child. My turn came to do the same for
them.

"And yet, up to quite recently, I was ready to love them.

"As I have said, this man, my father, came to me for the first time two years ago. I
suspected nothing. He ordered two pieces of furniture. I found out, later on, that,
under the seal of secrecy, naturally, he had sought information from the priest.

"He returned often. He gave me a lot of work and paid me well. Sometimes he
would even talk to me of one thing or another. I felt a growing affection for him.

"At the beginning of this year he brought with him his wife, my mother. When she
entered she was trembling so that I thought her to be suffering from some nervous
disease. Then she asked for a seat and a glass of water. She said nothing; she
looked around abstractedly at my work and only answered 'yes' and 'no,' at
random, to all the questions which he asked her. When she had left I thought her
a little unbalanced.

"The following month they returned. She was calm, self-controlled. That day they
chattered for a long time, and they left me a rather large order. I saw her three
more times, without suspecting anything. But one day she began to talk to me of
my life, of my childhood, of my parents. I answered: 'Madame, my parents were
wretches who deserted me.' Then she clutched at her heart and fell, unconscious.
I immediately thought: 'She is my mother!' but I took care not to let her notice
anything. I wished to observe her.

"I, in turn, sought out information about them. I learned that they had been married
since last July, my mother having been a widow for only three years. There had
been rumors that they had loved each other during the lifetime of the first husband,
but there was no proof of it. I was the proof--the proof which they had at first hidden
and then hoped to destroy.

"I waited. She returned one evening, escorted as usual by my father. That day she
seemed deeply moved, I don't know why. Then, as she was leaving, she said to
me: 'I wish you success, because you seem to me to be honest and a hard worker;
some day you will undoubtedly think of getting married. I have come to help you to
choose freely the woman who may suit you. I was married against my inclination
once and I know what suffering it causes. Now I am rich, childless, free, mistress
of my fortune. Here is your dowry.'

"She held out to me a large, sealed envelope.

"I looked her straight in the eyes and then said: 'Are you my mother?'
"She drew back a few steps and hid her face in her hands so as not to see me.
He, the man, my father, supported her in his arms and cried out to me: 'You must
be crazy!'
"I answered: 'Not in the least. I know that you are my parents. I cannot be thus
deceived. Admit it and I will keep the secret; I will bear you no ill will; I will remain
what I am, a carpenter.'

"He retreated towards the door, still supporting his wife who was beginning to sob.
Quickly I locked the door, put the key in my pocket and continued: 'Look at her and
dare to deny that she is my mother.'
"Then he flew into a passion, very pale, terrified at the thought that the scandal,
which had so far been avoided, might suddenly break out; that their position, their
good name, their honor might all at once be lost. He stammered out: 'You are a
rascal, you wish to get money from us! That's the thanks we get for trying to help
such common people!'
"My mother, bewildered, kept repeating: 'Let's get out of here, let's get out!'
"Then, when he found the door locked, he exclaimed : 'If you do not open this door
immediately, I will have you thrown into prison for blackmail and assault!'
"I had remained calm; I opened the door and saw them disappear in the darkness.
"Then I seemed to have been suddenly orphaned, deserted, pushed to the wall. I
was seized with an overwhelming sadness, mingled with anger, hatred, disgust;
my whole being seemed to rise up in revolt against the injustice, the meanness,
the dishonor, the rejected love. I began to run, in order to overtake them along the
Seine, which they had to follow in order to reach the station of Chaton.
"I soon caught up with them. It was now pitch dark. I was creeping up behind them
softly, that they might not hear me. My mother was still crying. My father was
saying: 'It's all your own fault. Why did you wish to see him? It was absurd in our
position. We could have helped him from afar, without showing ourselves. Of what
use are these dangerous visits, since we can't recognize him?'

"Then I rushed up to them, beseeching. I cried:

'You see! You are my parents. You have already rejected me once; would you
repulse me again?' "Then, your honor, he struck me. I swear it on my honor, before
the law and my country. He struck me, and as I seized him by the collar, he drew
from his pocket a revolver.
"The blood rushed to my head, I no longer knew what I was doing, I had my
compass in my pocket; I struck him with it as often as I could.
"Then she began to cry: 'Help! murder!' and to pull my me. It seems that I killed her
also. How do I know what I did then?
"Then, when I saw them both lying on the ground, without thinking, I threw them
into the Seine."That's all. Now sentence me."