Desperate Leap

A frail-looking young man with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes trudged wearily along the dimly lit road. His exhausted appearance and sluggish gait betrayed the toll his daily struggles had taken on him.

As he walked along the access road leading to the bridge, his thoughts turned inward. His life was a never-ending cycle of drudgery, with each day blending into the next in an exhausting blur. He felt trapped, forced to take on multiple jobs just to make ends meet, leaving him wondering if this was truly what it meant to be alive. The relentless struggle was suffocating him, and he couldn't help but think that death might be a more peaceful escape from this miserable existence.

He let out a deep sigh, his hand instinctively rising to massage his neck, seeking relief from the tension that had been building up inside him.

As he walked along the pedestrian walkway of the dimly lit bridge, he suddenly stopped, dropping his bag he carried on his back to the floor and turned towards the handrails. He stood before the rails, clenching them tightly as he gazed down at the water below, his thoughts consumed by despair. He wondered why he must continue living, why he had to endure this endless suffering. His exhaustion was palpable, his hope drained. The absence of his parents weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't help but think that their presence would have made a difference. His university education, which he had managed to secure through a scholarship, now hung in the balance, as he struggled to make ends meet.

He climbed onto the handrail, spreading his arms wide as if embracing the darkness itself. His thoughts swirled in turmoil as he reflected on his family's troubled past. He was a descendant of infamous criminals who had once shaken the country to its core. His great-grandfather had been a rebel leader who had sparked a great uprising, while his grandfather had been a notorious, wanted criminal. His father, a powerful mafia boss in Saga City, had met a miserable end. And he, a pathetic, struggling descendant, was now forced to juggle school and work just to survive.

A crazed smile spread across his face, but before he could take any further action, a group of motorists cautiously approached him. They had stopped their cars, alerted by his precarious position on the handrail. As they drew near, their slow and anxious steps caught his attention, and he turned to face them with a mix of surprise and bewilderment.

"Who are you people?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of hostility.

A man stepped forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

"I don't know what you're going through," he said in a low, measured tone, "or what's driving these thoughts, but I can promise you one thing: death is never the answer."

Williams stepped down from the handrail, a look of bemusement still etched on his face. He picked up his bag, casting a glance at the concerned onlookers.

"I'm not stupid enough to die like that," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Thanks for your concern, though." With that, he brushed past them, continuing along the bridge as they stared after him in astonishment.

Williams soon arrived at a Eight stories dilapidated building, pushing open the creaky door to enter. He made his way to his apartment, unlocking the door and calling out, "Hello? Is anyone home? Uncle, are you there?"

As he stepped inside, a voice echoed from the kitchen, "Is that you, Williams?" Williams' ears perked up, and he slowly began to make his way towards the kitchen, drawn by the familiar voice.

"Yeah, it's me," Williams replied, entering the kitchen where his uncle stood, a displeased expression etched on his face.

"I've told you time and again not to come home this late," his uncle scolded, glancing at the clock.

"It's already 11:56 pm. I know you're trying to support us financially, but I don't need it. I'm the adult here, and it's my responsibility to provide for us, not yours."

Williams met his uncle's gaze, his thoughts swirling in silence. He did this because he knew his uncle couldn't. Despite his uncle's claims of strength and capability, they both knew the truth. One of them had to make sacrifices, and Williams knew his uncle wasn't strong enough for that right now.

Williams gazed at his uncle, his expression displeased, but then he let out a deep sigh, and his face transformed into a warm smile.

"I've heard you, Uncle," he said, his voice low and exhausted.

"I'll try my best to come back early next time." With that, he turned to leave the kitchen, heading towards the bedroom.

Later, they sat together on the floor in the living room, facing a wooden table at the room's center. Williams looked at the meal in front of him, his expression unenthused.

"Uncle, we're having plain noodles again today," he said, his tone flat.

Henry, his uncle, looked down, his face a picture of sadness and gloom. He clenched his fist around his spoon, stirring the noodles with a sense of resignation.

"This is all we can afford for now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I believe things will get better with time."

Williams' gaze remained fixed on the plain noodles, his dissatisfaction evident. He took a deep breath, turning to face his uncle, whose dejected expression stirred a pang of pity within him. Just as he was about to speak, his uncle suddenly clutched his lower abdomen, crying out in pain as he gritted his teeth.

Williams' anxiety spiked as he rushed to his uncle's side, trying to help him alleviate the pain. He gently began to massage the affected area, near his uncle's lower abdomen joints, targeting the source of the pain. With slow, deliberate strokes, he worked to relax the tense muscles and ease the pain.

After a while, his uncle's body began to relax, and the pain seemed to subside. The tension in his face eased, replaced by a look of relief.

With the pain temporarily alleviated, they both returned to eating, the atmosphere now thick with awkward silence. Henry, sensing the unease, broke the silence.

"Hey, boy, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing the peculiar expression on Williams' face.

Williams hesitated, glancing at his uncle before speaking.

"When was the last time you took your medication, Uncle?" he asked, his concern evident.

The room fell silent, with his uncle lowering his head in shame, unable to meet his nephew's gaze.

"I...I've been taking the medication, don't bother about me," he muttered unconvincingly.

Williams' eyes narrowed, his expression skeptical.

"Uncle, you haven't been taking your medication, have you?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. "How long has it been now?"

His uncle's dejected expression deepened, his head bowed in defeat.

"Ah, I really can't hide it, can I?" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been two months now. It's not that I don't want to take them, but those drugs have become really expensive."

Williams gazed at his uncle with caring eyes, his hands slipping into his pocket to retrieve a wad of notes. He grasped the money tightly in his fist, then reached forward, placing his hands over his uncle's on the wooden table. With a gentle yet firm motion, he opened his uncle's hands and pressed the money into them, clasping them shut slowly.

"Uncle, this is $300. Add it to the money you have and get the medication for yourself, please."

Henry's head jerked back, his eyes widening in stunned amazement at the large sum of money his nephew had placed in his hands.

"Where did you get such a large amount of money, Williams?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Don't tell me you've gotten yourself involved in those shady deals. I told you to stay away from crime, boy. You're not cut out for it."

Henry grasped Williams' slender shoulders tightly, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern as he sought answers. Williams looked up at his uncle, taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"Uncle, what are you talking about?" Williams asked, his voice calm.

"This is my savings from the past few months, from all the jobs I've been doing."

Henry's expression changed, his face frozen in a mixture of shock and realization. Slowly, he released his grip on Williams' shoulders, seating himself back on the floor. He bowed his head, clenching his fist around the money, his face a picture of dejection.

"I'm such a useless uncle, aren't I?" Henry muttered, his voice laced with self-loathing.

"Allowing a weak and slender child like you to work so hard just to keep us fed. I'm truly a disgrace."

Williams gazed at his uncle, worried by the frustrated look on his face. With an anxious tone, Williams spoke up.

"Uncle, no, it's okay! I mean, I don't mind helping out financially."

As Henry listened, his eyes brimmed with tears, and he couldn't help but let a few droplets fall down his cheek.

"It's this damn Osteosarcoma cancer," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

"If it weren't for it, I would have been able to be more useful. I'm sorry, Williams, but I just can't bear to take your hard-earned savings, earned over the past few months, just to get my medication. I'll find another way."

Henry's gaze fell upon Williams, and his tears flowed freely.

"Look at you, Williams... you don't even look like kids your age anymore. Those heavy dark circles under your eyes, your slender and frail frame... it's heartbreaking to see you working so hard at such a young age, harder than most adults. I'm sorry, Williams... I feel completely useless to you."

Henry's emotions overwhelmed him, and tears continued to stream down his face as he reached out, taking Williams' hands in his. He tried to return the money, but Williams swiftly withdrew his hands, a clear look of dissatisfaction etched on his face.

"Uncle, stop it," Williams said firmly.

"You're not useless. You're the only family I have left. This is all I can do to ensure that I don't lose my last family member. To make that happen, I can do anything. So, this small sacrifice is nothing. I still have some savings left, so don't worry about me."

Henry gazed at Williams' resolute expression, wiping away his tears as he struggled to compose himself.

"You've truly grown up, much more than I thought," he said, his voice filled with a mix of pride and regret.

"I'm sorry for troubling you, but are you really sure you want to give me such a huge sum of money from your savings?"

Williams gave Henry a knowing smile, and Henry's gaze fell upon the young man, remembering the little boy he had promised his brother to care for as if he were his own son.

"I'm sure your father would be proud of the man you've become," Henry said, his voice filled with emotion.

"Even if you didn't follow in his footsteps, promise me, boy, that you won't get yourself into anything illegal or dangerous."

Williams smiled warmly at his uncle, nodding gently in confirmation. Henry, now composed, returned the smile, his eyes shining with approval.

"What am I saying?" Henry chuckled.

"It's not like someone as frail and weak as you could get into anything stupid or dangerous, right? You're a very smart kid, if not one of the smartest I've seen. It's just that our situation makes things difficult."

After a few moments of quiet conversation, Henry slowly rose from his seated position on the ground, wincing in pain as he clutched his waist. He let out a low, brief moan, then bent down to gather the empty dishes from the table. With a slow, labored gait, he began to walk away.

"Kid, get to bed quickly before you exhaust yourself from overworking," Henry called out, his voice laced with concern.

As Henry's figure receded into the distance, Williams gazed after him with a fervent glance, his expression etched with worry and concern

As the night wore on, Williams made his way to the roof of the apartment building, where he lit a cigarette. He stood there, lost in thought, the city lights twinkling below him.

I'm sorry, deeply sorry, for the way things have turned out, he thought. My uncle, struggling to survive, and I, barely scraping by. The weight of our circumstances threatens to crush me at times. But I couldn't give up, not yet. There has to be a way out, a way to change our fate.

Maybe, just maybe, this is it, he thought. A chance to take a risk, to gamble with my life, and possibly, just possibly, come out on top. It's a long shot, but what choice do I have? I couldn't keep living like this, watching my uncle suffer, feeling helpless.

Williams pulled out his phone and dialed a number, bringing the device to his ear. "Hello, Jay, it's me, Williams," he said, his voice low and resolute.

"I just wanted to ask if there are still open slots for the operation. If so, count me in. I need the money."