Execution Island
Past Times

Past Times

Little Jhoni was born from the womb of a mother named Warijem. His father was named Settlement. The two brought a small Jhoni to move to the city. A very difficult life in their village, forcing all three exodus. With shabby clothes and makeshift supplies, they left the beloved village.

At that time, Jhoni was only two years old. A very young age for a boy struggling on the streets of a metropolitan city. Patently, Settlement took his wife's son around in a wooden cart. His steps occasionally came to a halt when his net saw used plastic bottles and cups lying on the side of the road. One, two bottles he collected. After reaching a few kilos, he sold it to the besiegers who were willing to pay for it.

But it's not all that easy. Sometimes they have to endure hunger all day because the used bottles they collect are not enough to sell. Like that afternoon. They sit on the sidewalk. With a pale face, an adorable look and tattered clothes camping. They expect mercy from the passerby.

     "Hungry, mas" said Warijem with a soft. Carrying him, little Jhoni suckled at him. Hearing the wife's complaint, Settlement thought hard. In between - between the cigarette smoke that comes out. Rude words and insults came gushing right in the face of the woman.

     "You don't see. I'm hungry too, haven't had any food all day. Basic women sia**n !" he said full of anger. Warijem could only resign, listening to her husband's rant.

     "Take the kid off. Let her cry !" his orders with the look of the face are getting louder.

     "You're crazy, ma'am ?" Warijem said softly. The woman did not expect the drastic changes that happened to her husband. 

     "Take him off !!" again the fire. This time his hand grabbed the boy violently. Then, without expression he let Jhoni cry, roaring as if on the sidewalk of the road. Of course, this attracts the attention of road users who pass by. Not infrequently they throw rupiah. From the lowest value coins to red colored paper.

     "Success ... !" exclaim Settlement with a crisp smile. He scatters the money. While Warijem immediately carried Jhoni and raised it on a cart parked on the side of the road.

     "This is how to get money quickly" said Tukiman while pulling his cart. Unceasingly he turned his head towards Warijem proudly. While the wife was silent. Every now and then he looked into the wagon, making sure his baby was asleep. 

Some time this woman was pensive, remembering her husband's treatment of the little one who was beyond reason. In fact, not infrequently the little boy gets a pinch, a punch, even a cigarette. Scars on several parts of his body bear witness to the cruelty of Settlement. Warijem couldn't do much to stop it. 

#####

Time goes on, Jhoni is getting bigger. At the age of seventeen, he became an abusive teenager. Living under a bridge and mingling with street children form the Jhoni persona to be apathetic and temperamental.

     "What are you thinking ?" asked Jhoni, when he found his mother pensive.

     "Mother remembers your father, son" replied Warijem, occasionally with his aging face.

     "Mother don't remember her anymore. Let him go. Even if he dies, Jhoni doesn't care, ma'am !" 

     "But he's still your father, son."

     "No, ma. He's not my father !"

     "Jhoniii....!" 

     "He's just using us. Realize mom... !" jhoni shouted with a thunderous voice. Warijem could no longer argue. Only a hiccuping voice held back the cries that sounded.

     "After years of using us as street beggars. Now he's gone with the hard work we've gathered. Awake, ma'am !"

Call Jhoni again. The tears of the mother can no longer be contained. Hugged the child, the only treasure left.

     "Please promise, Jhoni.., promise not to leave your mother, son" 

     "Jhoni promised, ma'am" now his embrace was tightening. But the rigors of life, making the tears of this teenager difficult to flow. Anger, resentment and more dominant heartache rule over him.

     "Mother sleep. Don't remember the people who dumped us anymore" Jhoni said. His eyes pierced through the heart of the mother. Both hands held her mother's shoulders. The mother just nodded slowly.

     "Jhoni go outside for a second, ma'am. There's business" left by the mother. He hurried to meet his friends who were waiting. There were three of his peers who were getting impatient. While chatting naked, occasionally his third eye looking for the figure who awaited - wait. 

     "Where have you been, Jhoni ?" ask one of them. The tall skinny teenager looked at Jhoni waiting for an answer.

     "Sorry, you waited a long time" Jhoni replied briefly. Greeted one by one his friends. Soon they walked down the highway. On the side of the highway there are dense and slum villages that are home to urban cities. Including jhoni and warijem. And many more immigrants whose work is not clear. There are traders, drivers, buskers, psk and many more unusual professions.

     "That's a victim" said the tall skinny teenager. His face was directed at a young man who was standing near a red light. 

     "OKAY. We're in action !" exclaim Jhoni sure. He approached the young man.  His three friends were trailing behind.

     "What is the condition of the streets ?" ask Jhoni again. The net is focused on the prospective prey.

     "Safe, John... !" 

     "Udah brush  !" 

The three friends encouraged Jhoni while watching the surrounding conditions. While he was already beside the young man who looked shocked. His face turned pale as he felt a sharp object stuck to his waist.

     "Give me your wallet" said Jhoni softly. The dagger pressed down and almost tore the waist skin of his victim. 

     "Oh yeah.pardon bang !" the young man shouted with a frightened expression.

     "Cepaattt... hand over your wallet !" this time Jhoni's voice barked loudly. His patience runs out seeing his victims do not obey his orders. Retract the wallet in the back pocket of the victim's jeans.

     "Don't bang, that's money for bang treatment !" said memelas. But Jhoni did not care. After the contents were drained, he threw his wallet at the owner. 

     "Much bacots you... !" hardik friend Jhoni with punk kid style pieces. 

     BUUUUKKKK....! BUUUUKKK... !

Twice the punch landed on the stomach of the young man who could only complain. The tall skinny teenager threw a glance around with an alert look.

     "Let's go !" jhoni exclaimed as he moved away from his victim.

     "Come on Jhon" replied the expert . Their hasty steps left their victims in pain. They walked for a long time until they stopped at a coffee shop.

     "Don't if every day is like this" exclaimed Jhoni happy. A satisfied smile emanated from his face His hands clasped the money of their crimes.

     "Yes Jhon. We are lucky to get a victim who can't do anything" replied the punk teenager who was engrossed with a cup of coffee.

     "Every day, like this. We can be rich, we. Haha... !"  tall skinny guy chiming.

    "Haha..." 

#####

That afternoon the young man who had just experienced a disaster, decided to return home. His steps were shaken with a facial expression that still holds trauma. Until he arrived in front of the gate that became the entrance of the area where he lived. 

     "Robii. How come lemes is so ?" Ask a friend who is working. Robi, the young man apparently lives not far from the location of the support.

     "I'm out of pocket, San" Robi replied with an expression of regret.  

     "Ditodong where is it ?!" a young man named Santo. Face surprised. While his friends who were working stopped their activities for a moment. Now they gathered around Robi and Santo.

     "At the red light. Crossroads" replied Robi again. 

     "What stuff did you take ?" ask one of his friends. While others begin to feel emotion. Didn't accept one of their neighborhood's men being held.

     "My money for treatment, it's all taken away"

     "Bad 'em !" 

     "You recognize them, Robi ?" ask one of them.

     "They live in that roadside village."

     "They are all immigrants. But dare to make trouble with us !" exclamation of Saint furious. He was a young man in his neighborhood. His words were heard and followed by another young man.

     "So how's bang ? It's too late." 

     "We need to make calculations. Gather the others. Now we're looking for them !"  a young man named Santo.

     "Rubber. Don't be merciful bang !"

     "Before it gets more insolent. We're gonna finish them !"

Various insults were just thrown from young souls. Soul - a soul that easily ignites anger. Immediately, fifty young men gathered who armed themselves with anything. Santo and Robi walked ahead. After walking for a long time, they arrived at the place where Jhoni cs relax.

"That's them, San" said Robi. Pointing towards Jhoni who was unaware of the danger of being scouted.

     "Hey You. Give me back my friend's money you took !" Excite the Saint with anger ready to explode. His army was impatient to judge.

     "What the hell.... !!!" Jhoni was shocked not dumbfounded, when he realized the gripping situation before his eyes. His three friends were not much different. Before him stood dozens of people wielding sharp weapons. Their faces depicted such great anger.

     "Hey don't run... !" exclaimed a young man while chasing after Jhoni's skinny friend. But the skinny man continued to run, until a samurai slash scratched his back. 

     "YES.... !"

The screams of pain were like the howls of a wolf. Skinny teen has no choice. He took off his favorite dagger. He attacked as much as he could. Even though the chance to win is very slim.

Meanwhile, Jhoni and his two friends gasped. Watching his friends on the edge of death. Running won't save them. 

     "Come, we'll face them !" jhoni shouted at his two friends. A machete that used to accompany him witnessed how heroic he was. As fast as lightning he lunged forward. Followed by his two friends with hunting breath.

     Tang. tang...

Several times the machete, samurai and other sharp weapons clashed against each other in the air. Being in a confined and squashed position makes the three teenagers no longer think about death. All they have in mind is to fight and keep fighting.

     "Kill them !"

     "The dawn continues ... !" 

     "Death to you ... !"

Various kinds of mockery were swallowed by the three. Among the conditions of the coffee shop that is ravaged poranda, the three continue to push forward. Slash whoever the opponent is.

     Creeess....

     "Aaauuu.... !"

Jhoni managed to injure the two young men who locked him up. The opportunity was not wasted - it was wasted. As strong as he lunge the young man who had been injured to fall.

     BRUUGGH....

    "Aaauuu... !!" 

As fast as lightning he ran away. Two samurai sabetage and celurit capable of making quite severe injuries on his back. He kept running and running with all his might. From a distance there were screams of pain from his three friends. His voice was heartbreaking and very imprinted later on. 

It turns out that the death of three of Jhoni's friends did not make the Saint satisfied. This man believes Jhoni is the actor of every crime in their region. 

     "Pursue the boy !" shouted Santo. They ran after Jhoni. With a desire to kill, dozens of people poured into the slum that became the residence of Jhoni and his mother. 

     STOOP.... STOOP....

The sound of Molotov cocktails broke the fanfare of the villagers. Mothers and children ran to save themselves. The hysterical screams sound unapologetically unrelenting. Baby crying is like lamenting what is going on. But the attackers continued to ravage the village. Dozens of Molotov cocktails continued to fly and set fire to semi-permanent buildings.

One by one the houses burned down and left ashes in mourning. The whole building turned into a memory. There was no resistance, because the men were not at home, except grandfathers and children.

     "Let's leave this place ! " exclamation Santo. Not long, they turned back. Leaving the destruction in tears. Meanwhile shortly after the horde of Saints disappeared. Jhoni ran towards his residence. Ignore the pain of sharp weapons. With an anxious face he saw the condition of the house that had been charred.  Instantly a roaring cry blared matchless. Weeping will lose someone he loves very much.

     "Moeuu...... ! Don't leave Jhoni, buu... huhuhu... !"  Warijem, that tough woman is gone. He went home when he fell asleep in a dream. Apparently Allah did not want this woman to feel pain when the sakaratul death came to pick her up.

Let Jhoni regret everything that happened. His life became empty. No more joy came from his face. What appears is a person who is apathetic, cruel and has no compassion.