‼️ALL RIGHTS RESERVED‼️
Made for our school activity with my classmates.
Written by Elle Luna
What role does money play in ones life? To some it is just a material you can live without. While to others, it is something your life may depend on, it either makes life easier or much difficult. Although, those situations may occur, some still cling unto the hope that it isnʼt a hindrance, just like Richardʼs view of such.
With tattered clothes, and a smile plastered, Richard approached the three sleeping people under the bridge of Binondo, Manila. "Wonderful morning to my lovely family, I bought Adobo!" As if with a microphone in his throat, he spoke so lively!
Jose, Richardʼs father scanned him with scowling eyes as he rubs his drowsiness away. "Richard, son, where did you get the money for that?" He said hoarsely as if having a hard time speaking.
He bitterly smiled at him, "Tatay, what do you take me for?" he questioned. "Of course, your most hardworking son worked himself to the bones because..." He turned to the drowsy girl in pink tattered clothes whom just rose from the pile of carton. He laughed at the way she wiped off her drool. "Our Irish is finally graduating highschool with high honors!"
"We shall feast for it!" Maria, his mother uttered with such lovely voice.
"These food may not be much but Iʼll provide something greater in the future!" He said while lowkey raising the delicacy he bought to catch Irishʼ attention.
"Yo! Is that..." Irish rushed to him and took the adobo as soon as she realized it was her favorite food. "Oh! I was craving it for months already! Dream come true!"
"Youʼre drooling!" Richard cackled. "Youʼre happiness is too shallow!"
It was just adobo to some but it was their dosage of serotinin.
Aling Maria brought out the clean cup noodles to use as their bowl and contributed the food evenly for each of them.
Irish hilariously finished her bowl in a go! "Seconds please!"
They all started eating with joy lingering all over, then, suddenly! Mang Jose started caughing!
"Tatay!"
Mang Jose kept caughing so hard that when he finally spit out what had been trapped in his esophagus, he fainted.
All three of them were clueless of what action they shall make. Irish and Aling Maria were shivering with fear. While Richard was trying to figure out what was wrong.
He tapped his father multiple times but Mang Jose didnʼt budge even a little. "Irish! Take care of Nanay! Iʼll send Tatay to the hospital!"
With shivering hands he placed Mang Jose in the wooden cart and pushed him up to the road down to the nearest hospital.
Every step he took was heavy. Eveey second were terror.
The doctor implied that he still needs to be examined. Nervously, he waited by the waiting area. Wondering if Mang Jose was alright.
"Kuya!"
Immediately his head turned to the familiar voice calling his name, it was Irish. She was sweating drastically while holding her mother whoʼs in excruciating pain.
They hurriedly admitted her too.
Heavy wasnʼt even a word that couls describe what Richard feels as Irish cries on his shoulder. They found out that both of their parents have deadly cancer. Mang Jose has esphageal cancer and unknowingly Aling Maria developed stomach cancer over time too.
The doctors said that their parents were to be confined for further observation. Irish watched over them as he loiter around with a clouded mind.
Their disease were 83% incurable yet there are still low chances of them surviving through performing operations that cost fortunes.
"AGH!!! MONEY HERE! MONEY THERE! IF ONLY I HAD MONEY!" He yelled his lungs out as he kicked the wooden cart in front of him. "Stupid cart of junk! As if I can get enough money to cure them!
Tears started falling down his cheeks as his knees starts to get weak. He eventually gave up on standing and dropped to the floor. "Tell me, God, what shall I do?..."
"Psh! God? Is there even such?" He felt a grip on his shoulder. "Man, Iʼve been offering you the "job" that can take you anywhere far from the bridge you live under!"
He turned to Alden, one of his old friends. "That offer... Still stands?"
The man with dark circles and messy hair nodded. "Of course! Thereʼs a meet up today for newcomers. Wanna tag along?" He sneered, then took a handkerchief and sniffed it. "Heavenly smell."
"Youʼre just gonna be a transactor. Itʼs not like youʼre gonna use one yourself." Alden whispered like a devil on his ears. "Nothing much but worth so much."
As if his mind were manipulated, he went along with him to the "meet up". The said meet up was held in the factory of the biggest brand in the Philippines. It was eeryily noisy, reeking of the forbidden drug, marij*ana.
The noise immediately went down as someone entered the stadium. The man with a big scar on his face, spoke. "Dios mijô, you actually came, eh? interested for a job yeah? How about you deliver out products and for your payment? Don't even worry about it amigo with you in our job WE'LL BE RICH! So care to join mi amigo? Be ready at July 2, at 6 sharp. "Shivers went down his spine. As if there were a big lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. There were no backing down.
And so it began.
For weeks, Richard delivered plastic packets hidden in canned goods, slippers, even inside an old Bible. No one suspected him—he still looked poor. Still looked desperate. He was just another face in Manila. But with each trip, each exchange, each envelope of bills slid into his pocket, he felt himself becoming... less.
Irish barely spoke to him. She watched over their parents and rarely asked where he went anymore. That made it worse.
Then, it happened.
The rain was relentless that night, washing through the city like it wanted to cleanse something. Richard stood by the old chapel near Ongpin, waiting for a contact. It was supposed to be quick. It was supposed to be safe.
He handed over the packet to the client—
“Freeze! Don’t move!”
Blue lights exploded around him like stars dying.
He ran.
Slipped through streets he knew too well. Dodged into alleys like a shadow. His lungs screamed for air, but his mind screamed louder.
He found an abandoned house near Recto, heart hammering as he collapsed behind a broken shelf.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number popped.
"Hello?"
"Is this Richard Santiago?"
"...Yes?"
"This is from Manila General. Your parents are both in critical condition. Please come quickly. We don’t know how long they have."
He couldn't utter a single word. The line went dead.
He stared at the wall, peeling and cracked. His breathing were heavy and unstable. With his shaking knees, he stood. Trying to muster all the courage he have.
He ran—not to the hospital—but to Mr. Yup.
He barged into the apartment, soaked and shaking.
"Gi-Give me the money!" With his cracking voice, he screamed. "I did e-everything you told me! GIVE IT TO ME!"
Mr. Yup looked up slowly, as if confused. His brows were furrowed and the edges of his lips formed a smirk. "You led the cops to us, hijo. And still you ask for pay?"
"I DID IT FOR THEM!" Richard screamed. His fists balled at his side, tears streaming down. "I just wanted to save them."
Mr. Yup laughed airily yet sarcastically. "You ran," Mr. Yup stood, walking toward him. "No one trusts a runner." He clicked his tongue.
But Richard didn’t wait to argue. He grabbed a nearby case full of bills and sprinted out, shoving past two men by the door.
And for the second time that night—he ran like his life depended on it.
He made it to the hospital just before dawn. The air was quiet, too quiet.
Irish sat in the hallway, her eyes puffy, face pale.
"Kuya..." her voice cracked. "...They’re gone."
He didn’t speak. He walked past her. Into the room. There, their parents lay—finally still. As if the pain was too much. As if they were waiting for him, and gave up.
He dropped the case of money to the floor. It burst open like a mockery.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
He sat beside them for hours, even as the nurses came and went, even as Irish cried against the wall. The money he fought for now sat in silence, useless. Heavy.
Later that day, Richard walked to the police station, dragging the briefcase behind him.
He didn’t resist when they cuffed him.
Inside the cold cell, there were no more screams. No more hope. No more delusions.
Irish visited him once.
She didn’t say much. Just left a small lunchbox with adobo. It was cold.
She turned to leave. Stopped.
"...You were always trying to save everyone," she said. “But you forgot the one person who needed saving most.”
And then she left.
Richard sat alone.
Staring at the wall. Listening to nothing.
In his pocket, he had folded a torn drawing—his family under a bridge, smiling.
He unfolded it and stared long.
In this city of rust, betrayal, and hunger, he finally understood:
A man who clings to the blade of hope too tightly will one day find his hands too broken to hold anything at all.
And then she left.
Richard sat alone.
Staring at the wall. Listening to nothing.
In his pocket, he had folded a torn drawing—his family under a bridge, smiling.
He unfolded it and gazed at it as if it is the only thing he could see.
In this city of rust, betrayal, and hunger, he finally understood: a man who clings to the blade of hope too tightly, will one day find his hands too broken to hold anything at all.
