Two Days Ago
I woke up to the light like every other day.
The sun was already high, which meant another day of struggle had begun
and another would follow,
and another still,
until the Creator decides my time has come.
Oh pardon my rudeness.
I never introduced myself.
My name is Andrea de Leonardo, but most people simply call me Andre.
My mama calls me that.
My little brother Pedro calls me that.
And so does my best friend Carlos.
I was nothing.
A nobody.
My fate was simple: to live a chained life and die as one
to be forgotten like dust beneath someone else's feet.
Everyone here talks about the Creator.
Even my mama never stops praying to Him.
They say the Creator has plans for everyone.
But if that is true…
then perhaps He forgot me.
Or worse misplaced me.
My family and I endured backbreaking labor under a master whose cruelty knew no limits.
His heart was darker than a moonless midnight
so dark that even the devil would blush at his deeds.
Cruelty.
Wickedness.
Hatred.
Those were the wages carved into my soul.
Yet, every morning, I still stood up.
I still walked forward.
Not for myself but because I had people to protect.
My mama.
My little brother.
And even those close to me.
Pedro was still small ,too small to work as hard as they demanded.
And my mama…
My mama was sick.
Every day, I watched her cough until her body shook.
Yet despite her illness, she was still forced to work.
I begged the master pleaded with him that she needed rest, that she needed medical attention.
He only looked at us like we were worthless.
As if our lives meant nothing.
As if death was simply a replacement.
"If she dies," his eyes seemed to say,
"another will take her place."
That was the moment I knew
I had to do something.
Under the cover of darkness, I searched everywhere.
Filthy cupboards.
Discarded corners.
The town's drainage.
I rummaged through rot and waste until I found scraps of bread and a bottle half-filled with murky water.
It was disgusting.
But it was all I could offer.
Because my mama was sick, we could not meet the daily quotas.
Pedro was still weak.
So we were given nothing but leftovers scraps from the master's table.
Not enough.
Never enough.
That evening, we sat together to eat.
Mama smiled gently, despite her trembling hands.
For a moment, we pretended
pretended that life had not yet shown us its cruelty,
pretended that suffering had not already claimed its due.
Then she began to cough.
Not just cough.
She coughed up blood.
Fear tightened around my throat until I could barely breathe.
But she placed her hand over mine warm, gentle, fading.
"I'm fine, my son," she whispered.
"Don't worry."
I believed her.
I wanted to believe her.
I prayed everything would be alright.
The next morning, the sun rose once again
but this time, I woke to her heavy, broken breathing.
She was pale,beyond pale.
Her eyes were turning white.
Her body shook violently, convulsing in my arms.
I didn't know what to do.
My heart sank.
My mind froze.
My body refused to move..
I held her as her body shook in my arms.
Her breathing was uneven shallow, broken like every breath was borrowed and overdue.
Pedro stood beside me, crying silently, too afraid to make a sound.
I called her name.
Again.
And again.
She tried to smile.
Her lips trembled as she raised a weak hand and brushed my cheek.
"Andre…"
Her voice was barely there.
"Listen to me, my son."
I shook my head violently.
"No ,no, Mama. Don't talk. You'll be fine. I'll fix this. I swear."
She coughed again.
Blood stained her lips.
"You've always been strong," she whispered.
"Stronger than this world deserves."
Tears blurred my vision.
"Please," I begged.
"Please don't leave us."
Her fingers tightened weakly around mine.
"Take care of Pedro," she said.
"Promise me."
My chest felt like it was being crushed.
"I promise," I choked.
"Just stay."
And in that moment…
I knew.
The end had begun.
She looked past me then
as if she could already see something I couldn't.
Her lips moved one last time.
"Creator… protect my children."
And then I couldn't stay there and watch my mama die never, I busted out of the house headed to anywhere I can possibly get help.
"I'll be back," i said, trying to sound brave. "I promise."
I ran.
I ran past Past silk merchants locking up their shops. Past men in polished shoes who smelled of wine and perfume.
That's when he saw him.
A man clothed in rich purple fabric, the kind dyed with crushed shells that only the wealthy could afford. Gold stitched the edges. Rings gleamed on his fingers. Even the guards near him stood straighter.
I threw myself forward and grabbed the man's sleeve.
"Please, sir," i gasped. "My mother, she can't breathe. I just need a physician. I'll repay you. I swear it. I'll scrub floors, I'll carry water, I'll—"
The man slowly pulled his sleeve away as though I had smeared dirt on it.
He looked at me up and down.
"What gutter did you crawl out of?"
My face burned. "Please sir…"
The man's lip curled.
"Your mother?" he said coldly. "If she raised a thing like you, then she's done enough damage."
I froze.
The man leaned closer, his voice lowering so only i could hear.
"Women like her breed poverty like rats breed disease. The world improves when they stop breathing."
The words hit harder than the boot that followed.
Pain exploded across my skull as i was slammed into the stone. Laughter rippled from nearby onlookers.
"Look at him," the man scoffed. "Begging like an animal. You should've died instead of her."
The man stepped over me and walked away.
I layed there, ears ringing, vision blurred, humiliation burning hotter than the blood of leviathan.
I wanted to disappear.
But Instead, i stood up.
If men were this cruel, maybe the priests would not be.
The temple of the prime goddesses
The Temple of the Goddesses towered above the city not made of marble, but of people. People in fine robes. People with jeweled hairpieces. People who called themselves chosen, enlightened, favored.
Candles flickered. Choirs hummed. Coins clinked steadily into a massive offering box near the altar.
I stumbled inside.
"My mother is dying!" I cried.
Heads turned.
Not in concern.
In annoyance.
I pushed forward, tears streaking down my dirty face.
"Please! You teach mercy! You preach compassion! Help her!"
One priest sighed loudly. "This is a sacred hour."
Another waved a hand dismissively. "Take him outside."
"I'm not asking for gold," i choked. "Just a doctor! Someone who cares!"
Whispers spread.
I then climbed the steps to the altar before anyone bothered to physically stop me.
Up close, i could see them clearly.
Not divine.
Not glowing.
Just humans in expensive robes pretending to speak for heaven.
my voice shook as i spoke.
"You say the goddesses love everyone. You say they watch over the weak. Then where are they?" My chest heaved. "My mother worked until her hands split open. She went hungry so I could eat. She never stole. She never hurt anyone. And now she's dying because we were born with nothing."
Silence.
Then
A laugh.
Soft at first.
Then another.
Soon it spread, rippling through the hall like gossip.
My ears burned.
Are they laughing at me?
I looked around.
They were.
Some covered their mouths. Others shook their heads as if he were a foolish child throwing a tantrum.
One priest muttered loudly, "Desperation makes them dramatic."
Something inside me cracked.
"You think this is funny?!" I screamed.
My voice echoed violently against the temple walls.
"No one chooses to be poor!" i shouted, tears spilling freely now. "We deserve to live! We deserve to be saved too!"
But they only looked at me with pity… and superiority.
Hopelessness swallowed me whole.
Then I saw it.
The offering box.
Overflowing with coins. With enough money to buy ten doctors. Twenty.
Money given in the name of mercy.
Without thinking or maybe thinking more clearly than ever before , I lunged.
Gasps erupted.
I grabbed the heavy box, nearly collapsing under its weight, and ran.
Hands reached for me.
"Thief!"
"Stop him!"