Runaway Bus

I got held up on my way home... or rather, I was among 19 people who got held up on our way home.
At about 12:30 AM, 07 November, I got on a Don Mariano bus en route to Novaliches Bayan which passes by Road 20 at Mindanao Avenue where I reside. As the bus usually speeds off as its passenger gets up the steps, I had to hop into the first vacant seat I could find which was right in front of the twin doors. I had barely maneuvered to fix my dress when the bus halted and aboard came four men - all wearing dark-colored t-shirts, short pants, flipflops and bullcaps riding so low to hide their faces. One of them went straight to the back of the bus, while another sat right behind the driver. The remaining two stayed at the doors, ignoring the bus conductor's calls for them to take a seat.
Not two minutes later, the bus made a full stop at Paramount - the intersection at which EDSA and North Avenue meet. The bus conductor walked towards the doors and tried to make his way through the two men so that he could call passengers. And then, one of the men pulled an ice pick, about a foot long, and ordered the bus conductor to take a seat. The other guy closed and barred the doors.
The bus wheeled to make the turn, abnormally slower than these buses do given that hour of night. The man behind the driver stood up, his long blade pointed at the driver's neck, and shouted orders for everyone not to panic, not to look down or at anyone, and to hand over bags and purses to the guy who, from the bag, collected them in a garbage bag. The man who had his ice pick pointed at the bus conductor began shouting as the conductor refused to give the coins he kept in a pouch made out of an old handkerchief. The ice pick was held barely an inch from the poor conductor's face, right between his eyes, as the guy screamed profanities at him to let go of the pouch.
Everyone else was quiet. The leader, the guy who held the driver at his mercy, began talking. I guess my heart was beating so fast and so loud that I could barely make out the words he was saying. As he spoke, we were driving a bit slower as three of the men began rummaging through bags and purses. They went for all the cash, not sparing a single peso they could find, took the phones they found in the bags, and carelessly through the bags and whatever else they found useless to them around the floor. The leader told the driver not to make any stops unless he was told to stop.
I stared straight ahead and had my neck resting on the cold knuckles of the woman seated behind me. I saw a red light and sure enough the bus kept on going. I never thought Congressional Avenue could feel so dark and desolate. I could not breathe though I wanted to much to scream. I could not think but the one thing that plagued my mind was my need to get home.
Before I knew it, the leader barked something at the driver. The bus made a complete stop at the red light at the corner of Mindanao Avenue and Congressional Avenue. The four men alighted, ran across the street and disappeared. The remains of their robbing spree remained at the floor of the bus.
As we turned into Mindanao Avenue, we saw a police check point and stopped there. Some of us ran down the bus and met with the police, including the woman who sat behind me and had then begun throwing hysterics. I was among five or six who remained on the bus to search for what was left of our belongings.
Climbing down the bus felt like leaving hell... I felt as if my body was so heavy that I practically slumped down on the gutter and sat there, staring at the pavement. A few others were like me, sitting there motionless and in shock. The rest, including the bus conductor, recounted what had happened over and over again to the police. Two of the police hopped onto their motorcycles and left, another called into his radio asking for back up mobile patrols to go through Congressional Avenue. For at least a whole hour, we remained there until, one by one, we decided to go home.

As I was leaving, I saw the bus driver sitting on the bare sidewalk with a towel over his neck where the blade had been pressed against. He was bleeding. Apparently, the leader of the fearsome four had already stuck the end of his blade into the poor driver's neck to keep him in check.
I walked home. I could not think but I walked, not looking back at all. I got home and I sat in front of our television staring into the empty screen. I'm not sure if I fell asleep at all. All I remember is that I went to bed after I heard my children's alarm clock go off.
My head's still reeling from the experience. I'm hoping against hope that I'll somehow forget this incident soon but it has left me broke and shaken. How badly did these people need money that they were willing to hurt people to get it? What of everyone else who lost their phones, their hard-earned money, and other belongings to these muggers?
I am out of words now. I don't even want to read through this anymore. I guess I just needed to vent off somehow. I had barely cried after that ordeal. I have not told my children or my parents about this. I have only told a few people I trust. I can barely think of what to do or what to think of right now, but if there is one thing I want to do... I want to cry.