Rise and shine

Chapter 4.

Tom's POV

Now faced with the daunting question of where to go, my mind swirled with uncertainty.

I had no place to call my own, only that old shabby grandma's hut, even a pig can't survive there.

This predicament should have been mine alone to endure, but now it involved both me and my son, Liam.

Determined to find a temporary refuge, we continued walking towards the bus terminal, our only hope of escaping the encroaching darkness that would soon cloak the city.

"Dad," Liam called out, his young voice filled with a mixture of fear and hope.

"Everything will be okay," I reassured him, trying to offer comfort in the midst of our dire circumstances.

Although he was only four years old, Liam possessed a keen understanding of the gravity of our situation.

Yet, deep down, I knew that "okay" was a distant concept—a luxury we could no longer afford.

Liam groaned in pain, clutching his stomach tightly.

"Dad... my stomach hurts," he whimpered, his distress growing more evident with each passing moment.

Alarmed, I knelt down beside him, my own worry intensifying.

"What's wrong? Are you hungry?" I asked, desperately searching for an explanation for his sudden pain.

"Uhhh," he groaned, the discomfort becoming more pronounced, causing his little body to tremble.

"Tell me what's happening," I pleaded, my voice trembling with fear. And then, he fainted, collapsing into my arms.

Rushing to the hospital, panic coursed through my veins.

The doctor's words struck me like a lightning bolt: "Your son has appendicitis and requires emergency surgery."

Appendix? How did this happen?

It seemed that within a day of being in my care, misfortune had magnetized itself to us, drawing us deeper into a maelstrom of despair.

With a trembling voice, I implored the doctor, "Please, proceed with the surgery."

But then he delivered the devastating blow—the cost would be a staggering $50,000.

$50,000? How could I even conceive of such a sum? I didn't have a single dollar to my name.

Imploring the doctor further, I begged him to begin the operation, promising to find the money somehow.

"Go and find the money," he declared, his words carrying a weight of urgency and desperation. It was a race against time—a race against death.

I stared at the numbers on my phone screen, contemplating who to call in this moment of desperation.

I had sworn never to contact my family again, but this was a matter of life and death.

Trembling, I dialed the familiar number, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hello, Tom," Araina's voice greeted me on the other end of the line.

"Ariana, it's Liam," I blurted out, my voice choked with emotion.

"What happened to him, Tom? Please, tell me," she pleaded, her concern palpable.

"He has appendicitis and requires emergency surgery. We need $50,000," I explained, my voice quivering with a mix of desperation and shame.

"Maybe I truly am the worst parasite you've ever seen, not Aiden," I thought to myself.

Without hesitation, Ariana's response shattered the fragile remains of my hope.

"Okay, okay. I'll send the money right away. Aiden... I'll send $100,000. Please, take care of him," she assured me, her words filled with a mix of determination and love.

"Thank you, Ariana".

"love you," she whispered, those words were nothing more than a cruel joke. All I could focus on was the urgency of the situation—I needed the money.

"Please, it's urgent".

"I will," she replied, her voice filled with resolve. And with that, I ended the call, hoping and praying that the funds would arrive in time.

"You dare not, Ariana! Send that money and I will disown you," her father groaned at her.

"But he is my son," she protested.

Her mother intervened, saying, "No, he is his own son."

Ariana defiantly responded, "Mom, Dad, I gave birth to him. He came out from my womb".

Can't he afford the hospital bill by himself? Must he depend on us?".

Her frustration mounting, she continued, "He has no money, Dad!".

And that is none of our concern, Ariana. He and his son are no longer a part of us."

"Dad," she pleaded, changing her approach. "Give him the money, and I will throw you out of the house."

TOM'S POV

Hours ticked by, no sign of the promised money appeared. Panic and frustration gnawed at my soul. Why hadn't she sent it yet? This was an emergency—a matter of life and death. I shivered in the cold hospital corridor, checking my phone incessantly, desperate for any sign of communication.

Summoning the courage to call Ariana once more, I dialed her number, my trembling fingers betraying my anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," she stated firmly, her words piercing my heart like a dagger. I heard the words, but their meaning eluded me.

"What? Ariana, it's Liam. I'm not faking it," I stammered, my voice trembling with disbelief.

"I know, but I can't assist you. Take a loan or find some other way to get the money," she advised, her voice devoid of the compassion I had hoped for.

And just like that, she ended the call, leaving me stunned and shattered.

I immediately tried calling her back, desperate to make her understand the gravity of the situation, but she was no longer reachable. I was left alone, grappling with a sinking sense of despair.

Hours stretched into an agonizing eternity. No one was willing to lend me the money I so desperately needed.

I had no property or assets to offer as collateral, and finding a guarantor seemed like an insurmountable task. 

I felt like the epitome of a loser, a pathetic being whose existence seemed to bring nothing but pain and misfortune.

Kneeling before the enigmatic figure known as Sky-lord, a feared mafia gang leader, I mustered every ounce of desperation within me.

"Please, lend me the money. I will pay you back with my life," I pleaded, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and determination.

A smirk crossed Sky-lord's face as he considered my desperate plea.

"With your life, huh?" he mused, amusement dancing in his eyes. I nodded, the weight of my circumstances pressing heavily upon me.

"Will you be my delivery man?" he proposed, his voice dripping with both malice and opportunity.

I gazed at him, aware that accepting this proposition would plunge me into his dark and illegal world.

The path ahead would be treacherous, but the allure of saving my son's life outweighed any reservations I had.

"Yes, I will do it. I will deliver whatever you wish," I declared, the heaviness of my decision settling upon me. 

Sky lord laughed, motioning to one of his subordinates who handed me a bag filled with money. It was the exact amount 

 needed.

With a warning not to even consider running, I snatched the money and rushed back to the hospital, clutching it tightly.

"Here it is—the money. Please, save my son," I pleaded with the doctor, my voice laced with desperation and exhaustion.

To my surprise, the doctor stared at me, his gaze filled with sympathy.

"I'm afraid I can't accept that from you," he confessed, the weight of his words crushing my spirit.

"But... but it's the exact amount you asked for," I stammered, confusion and despair intertwining within me.

The doctor sighed, his face etched with sorrow.

"Your son... he's gone," he revealed, his voice heavy with regret. My mind went blank, unable to comprehend the magnitude of his words.

"What... what do you mean? My son... is..." My voice trailed off, my heart shattered into pieces.

In a daze, I entered the room, my grandma's house, the memories of childhood replay in my head, it was old and shabby, there is no way I can survive the Summer.

Just as despair threatened to consume me entirely, my eyes caught sight of a red envelope lying on the table.

It seemed so out of place, as if someone had just left it there for me to find. Intrigued, I picked it up, my hands trembling as I slowly opened it.

What I read inside the envelope shattered my perception of reality.

It was an inheritance letter, declaring me as the rightful heir and kin to Malissa Linton.

And underneath her name, written in bold letters, was my own first name—Tom. With the surname, Linton.

Realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. Malissa... that was my grandmother's name. But who was Linton?.