𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒 ᶜᵐ

01 ┃ 𝐘𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐲

[A/N: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 3𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 2𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕, 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞.]

━ ⭒─⭑━

The sky rumbled ominously with blinding lights as rain poured down from the heavens.

In the crevices of an eroded mountain sat a small cabin, sheltered away from the thundering storm.

Inside the cabin sat a middle-aged woman, who sang olden hymns under her breath as she tended to the sick 5-year-old splayed out on the bed.

"My little one," she sighed in sadness, keeping her tears at bay as she watched how her child's chest slowly went up and down in labored breaths.

Just as she reached forward to fluff the pillow, the door to the creaky opened, and in walked a middle-aged man.

The woman looked up, a tired smile growing on her lips. "Miguel, you're home."

The man smiled back at her as he walked over to the bed, setting the bowl of water on the bedside table before bending over to place a kiss on her lips. "How is she, Jovena? Is she alright?"

"I'm afraid not," Jovena told him, reaching over to dip the cloth in the bowl before gently wiping off the sweat littered across the little girl's forehead. "Her fever hasn't broken. I'm afraid it's getting worse."

Kneeling by the bed, Miguel gave a deep sigh as he watched his wife cater to their sick child.

"If her fever hasn't broken by sunrise, we will have no choice but to ask them for help."

Turning towards the door, Miguel shook his head at the sound of his grandmother's voice, "Abuelita, no. I will not risk the life of my child for help that isn't guaranteed."

An older woman with grey hair hobbled into the little room, her body formed into a hunch. "Nonsense, she will receive help. They owe us after all."

Jovena quickly got up and walked over to the elderly before her husband could say anything, "Abuelita, please, take my seat." Taking her gently by the arm, she led the old lady next to the chair.

The second the elderly woman sat down, her eyes were drawn towards the sickly child. "Miguel,"ㅡshe set her cane to the side to wipe the child's foreheadㅡ"as I've stated before, she needs help. Something we can't give her. We need to take her to them."

"Why should we beg for them to help us, abuela!? After all that we've doneㅡsacrificed for them, they turn around and left us at a time when we needed them most! I refuseㅡ"

"No! No more talking! You'll listen to me because I'll only say it once," the old woman cut him off, her eyes narrowing into slits, "Your child is dying. The sickness has grasped her, taking it to the point where we can no longer provide help to make her better! We can do no more! Now is the time to push away your pride and take her to those that can. I will not allow another life to die on my watch."