The walls and the floor are not painted. There’s only one light bulb inside of the empty and large suite, radiating a crisp orange brilliance throughout this otherwise darkened room. Since that was the case, the corners of that place are covered in an endless wave of darkness that made me so fearful of what is to come, for these shadows might swallow me whole if they so desire. The suite has no windows and no doors other than the one we used to enter. It’s just this huge space with no decorations or furniture. The fact that there’s so much trash, dust, spider web, and unwashed laundry on the floor shows there was at least a semblance of living life in this place. Nevertheless, it’s still an utterly deserted hall.

Well, no, not really.

There are people inside the room. Men, women, young, old, they’re all here. They have no clothes on, which explains why there are so many scattered clothes on the floor. And I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense. They are all seriously naked, not even any underwear on. In fact, the first thing that came into my eyes when I entered the room is the hairy asscrack of a chubby older man. They have not even used a bit of cloth or whatever that they could use to hide their genitals, which is such a humiliating and dehumanizing thing to see. From what I remember, there are only about six people inside the room at that time. These naked people are all kowtowing on the floor. Their knees are folded, their heads are buried on the ground, and their hands are locked on their backs.

And they’re all circling a stone monument in the middle of the room. Ivan said that they called it a groto—a monument once used to house an important religious icon. However, since they do not affiliate with any sorts of religious groups, nothing is sitting on the circular space in the groto.

Ivan said that it was symbolic. Symbolic of what? I don’t get it.

Piles of garbage, naked men, and dust—these surrounded the gray and unpainted cemented monument at the very center of the room. The only light source in the room hung above the groto. At this point, Ivan started to undress as well and threw his clothes on the floor before mimicking the same position as every other person in the room. He told me I should watch as the ritual began. What sort of ritual exactly would happen? I wish I never knew.

At this point, Ivan told me I should just stand there behind us as a mute observer, so they could acquaint me with the beautiful moment that they would share. I wish I never got acquainted with this whole place at all. I must also add that this is the first time I saw my cousin naked; heck, this is the first time I saw him show a bit of skin. Thus, when I saw the many self-inflicted scars all over his body, I winced right away. What sort of horror had my cousin been through before I met him?

As I looked around, I noticed the other people around me and saw that everyone else has scars all over their bodies, which must have been what Ivan meant when he said that they are ‘the same kind of people’ as him. I felt nauseated as I looked around the room while every naked person in the room bowed down before this enigmatic groto in the middle of the room.

I remembered that time I watched an interview while watching trash TV in the middle of the night. It was about a group of people and how they recounted their experience when they first stepped inside of a holy or otherwise religious place. They would say that they’d sense some power radiating all over the place and perceive a sense of spiritual empowerment when they stayed. I could safely say that I felt that way as well when I entered this place. But for all the wrong reasons.

When I entered this large and empty hotel suite, I instantly felt a sense of dread and disgust rushing from deep within me. It felt like there was a pit boiling in my stomach. This unbearable dread seeped through my veins, conquering every nook and cranny of my body. It felt as if a massive dosage of poison began to capture my senses until it touched the very core of my soul. The sensation alone made me feel a wave of pain being hurled all over my heart. It didn’t feel right to me. I wanted to run, but this crippling anxiety surging with my blood had somehow penetrated through my bones and muscles, making me powerless. Thus, it became almost an impossibility for me to move an inch of my body. Then, I felt like it’s getting harder and harder for me to breathe. The world started turning dark while my vision blurred, making me feel like the demons planted within me had seized my senses. I sweat hard as my feet shook and wobbled like two twigs being flicked by an invisible force.

I then heard the people around the groto shout out loud when Ivan joined their midst. They repeated only one word. But it’s enough to be embedded in my brain for the unforeseeable future.

PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE! PRAISE!

Only that. Praise. They muttered that word in hushed voices but with immense speed, ringing in perfect unison!

PRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISE

When they stopped saying that word, a man who’s kowtowing nearest the groto stood up. He was a middle-aged man with a slightly plump physique. He was facing away from me as he directed his gaze towards the groto. I couldn’t quite see his face at that time, and I wish I never did. That man then shouted a word with all the power skulking from deep within his diaphragm and allowed that voice to punch through his throat, eliciting a hoarse shout that sounded like the noise of nails scratching a rough fabric.

‘OBEY!’ he said, and to which every person around him began to repeat endlessly in louder but slower voices. These people savored each syllable of the word they’re uttering. ‘OBEY!’ they repeated for what seemed like an eternity but not in unison anymore. It seemed like they had all regained a semblance of their individuality by doing precisely what everyone else is doing.

Oooh...

BEY!

Oooh...

BEY!

Oooh...

BEY!

Their bodies were unmoving as they did this. Amid these wild screams, I stood there behind them with my feet rooted on the floor. I wanted to leave. I don’t want to be in there anymore. I begged in each passing second to be liberated from the shackles preventing me from moving, but my body won’t listen. I can’t move. I have lost dominion over myself. I feel like the hand of a primordial and omnipotent being had been wrapped around my feeble body, ordering me to stay.

And all I can do is obey.

Then, the man who seemed to have been given the sole right to move by this oppressive entity locking us in place began to stroll all around the groto. It seemed like he’s adding salt to our injury. He knows that he was the only man who had the right to move. And he relished upon his authoritative superiority. However, even with all that moving, I still cannot make out his face.

He then said a few words that sounded the same but are all totally different.

‘The church knows what’s best for you.’

‘Surrender yourself to the church.’

‘You are made to obey those who are superior to you.’

‘Not all men are equal, and you are born to serve.’

‘The church is your only ally.’

The man said a few more words similar to that as he moved ever so slowly around the cemented groto in the middle of the room. As he uttered those words, the kowtowing men around him would repeat whatever he would blurt out like they were programmed to do so. The only difference is that they will turn it into a personal mantra of some sort. As they followed the man’s lead, the naked people on the floor slowly raised their bodies. Once they fully erected their upper-bodies, they began touching themselves, jerking their members, playing with their breasts, and inserting their fingers inside of their holes. Their knees still remain folded on the ground as they trembled while feeling the euphoria surging into their bare bodies.

‘The church knows what’s best for me.’

They would moan as they savored every word they utter.

‘I will surrender myself to the church.’

The naked people would let out gasps of breath in between their words as they played with themselves.

‘I am made to obey those who are superior to me.’

All of them would jerk their heads back sometimes in unison and sway it in the air in the shape of an arc.

‘Not all men are equal, and I am born to serve.’

They would then drop their heads as screams of pleasure enveloped the room.

‘The church is my only ally.’

They would then stop once they’re nearing the point of orgasm.

They repeated more of such words for what seemed like an eternity, but I’m sure it only lasted for a few minutes. Their debauched group masturbation session continued as if their life depended on it. I would see Ivan steal glances at me as he very rigorously moved his hands around his reddened penis. Everyone else looked just as excited and intense as Ivan, which is an obvious indication that they all enjoy whatever it is they’re doing.

Then, the man whispered ever so playfully a simple word that I would often hear in the video games I frequently played when I was younger.

Surrender.

And as if on cue, the kowtowing people around him repeated that same word. They uttered it ever so slowly as if their voices are slithering snakes, leaving the confines of their lips.

Surrrrrrenderrrrrrr!

Then, as their ringing voice echoed through the damp air, the sole man standing among the naked people in the suite turned around to face me, finally allowing me to look at his face as he sat on the circular space engraved on the groto. He grabbed the sides of the stone monument as if to showcase his hairy body and bushy armpits while allowing his limp member to dangle on the edge of where he sat. It looked like that empty area on the groto is made precisely for him. And as he looked at me with all his godlike reverence, I gasped. I know him. I know him very well.

I almost fainted when I saw that man’s face. He’s a person I respected, a man I held with high regard.

Mark Angelo Brown.

Sir Mark.

My boss.

‘Welcome, boy.’ I remembered him saying as he extended his hands towards my direction while the surrounding people slowly crawled towards him.

Then they would repeat their three-word mantra.

PRAISE!

Oooh... BEY!

Surrrrrrenderrrrrrr!