Muffled screams of demons past

IT was just at the stroke of midnight when the demons began to creep again. Roman lay rigid in bed, his hands clenched into fists. Sweat slid ominously from his temples down to his nape. He tried moving his toes — just as his therapist had taught him a few sessions ago — whenever the nightmares gripped him into a virtual paralysis.

Failing that, he tried to will his neck muscles to move, to bob his head from side to side. Each strained shift triggered sharp flashes in his mind — four-second fragments of his ordeal years ago.

Though fleeting, the scenes were painfully vivid.

Roman could almost smell the stench of urine in one frame, the putrid reek of human waste in another. In one flash, he felt the sting of an electric rod grazing dangerously close to his genitals.

Then came the ultimate squall of sensation. Roman began to gasp for air — as if a plastic bag had been pulled tightly over his head. At first, he felt ridiculous. This can’t be real, he thought sarcastically. But as the seconds slowed to agony, Roman found himself on the threshold of asphyxiation. The absurdity he’d felt only moments ago turned into sheer panic as his body began to convulse.

“Patya na lang kooo!”

His conscious and unconscious mind screamed as one. Roman awoke, throat parched, and sat up with what little strength he had left.

With clammy, trembling fingers, he groped for the glass of water on the table beside his bed. The nightmare, he noted, always came in mid-August. He was drenched, his skin slick and darkened by sweat.

Promising Start

Sweat streamed down his lithe body as Roman pushed his morning jog into a sprint, determined to finish his lap. It was June 1972. Fresh out of high school, he looked forward to a new chapter in his life — his mother said it would be a great one.

The sky was clear, cloudless, and bright—an auspicious sign. It was Roman’s first day at the University of Mindanao, and he was both eager and anxious: thrilled by independence yet frightened by the thought of being miles away from his quiet rural home.

He had enrolled earlier than most to secure a boarding house near the university, downtown in Davao City.

Aiming to follow in his father’s footsteps — a Filipino U.S. Navy ensign — Roman took up a Bachelor of Science in Criminology. He admitted that studying to become a law enforcer was a far cry from his father’s naval career. Still, having failed the height requirement for the Philippine Military Academy, he saw the police service as the next best path. Since the age of ten, he had dreamed of upholding law and order in service of the republic. The very thought gave him goosebumps.

Roman breezed through his first four semesters with ease. His professors fascinated him, his shapely classmates even more so.

Between classes, he would sketch—and soon discovered a real knack for it. His classmates often posed for him, and he quickly became known around campus for his drawings. His rough, hesitant strokes grew into confident, fluid lines. One professor told him that his talent would be an asset in law enforcement.

During semester breaks, Roman returned home to Mako, Davao, regaling his manongs and manangs with stories—about the girl he almost courted, the professor who forgot his own class schedule, the city life that seemed a world apart from home.

By mid-July, events in the nation’s capital took a darker turn. Roman watched on their wooden Radiowealth television as monochrome images showed students protesting in the streets. At fourteen, he couldn’t fully grasp what they were so angry about.

Then came the news: Defense Secretary Juan Ponce Enrile’s Mercedes-Benz had been ambushed by the New People’s Army. On September 23, amid static and a halting broadcast, President Ferdinand E. Marcos suspended the writ of habeas corpus—and later declared martial law.

Roman admired the president’s decisive hand. “What a stroke of genius,” he mused.

He liked how disciplined everyone suddenly became. People lined up properly. No drunks loitered in alleys. The news said the Philippines was emerging as Southeast Asia’s next great republic. Roman believed it.