Chapter 1:- sorrow

OLIVIA'S POV

"I'm so sorry, but we lost your mom. The illness had spread too far, her kidneys were completely failing. You and your brother were just too late. I’m truly sorry... Please, try to take heart."

The doctor’s words slammed into my chest like a wrecking ball. The world spun around me like fame. Everything blurred. My vision clouded as tears welled up in my eyes. Beside me, Johnson, my fifteen-year-old brother stood frozen, his face as pale as the hospital walls, the one and only person left for us is now dead.

“What... what do you mean we lost her?” I asked, my voice trembling like a dovey. “She said she felt better this morning... she was smiling when we left.”

The doctor gave a slow, sorrowful shake of his head. “The kidney failure had progressed too far. Even if you had managed to raise the forty thousand dollars for treatment, I honestly don't know if we could have saved her. I’m very sorry for your loss, really, deeply sorry dear.”

Forty thousand dollars.

The number rang in my head like a cruel punchline. We couldn't even afford rent, how were we supposed to find that kind of money? But it didn’t matter anymore. Mom was gone.

“No. No, no, no!” Johnson cried suddenly, grabbing onto the doctor’s white coat with trembling hands. “You’re lying! She said she was going to get better! She promised me!”

Watching him break like that... it really shattered me, like part of me was being ripped apart. I pulled him into my arms as he crumpled, sobbing so hard it shook his entire body.

“She’s really gone, Olivia,” he whispered, voice rumbling against my shoulder. “First Dad... now Mom. What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

I had no answers. I just held him tighter and let my tears fall. I was only twenty, and now I was all he had. I had no idea how we were going to survive.

My scholarship barely covered tuition at the prestigious high school I attended in New York, it didn't cover rent, food, or anything else. And with Mom gone, along with the little she made from cleaning jobs, we were left with nothing, furking nothing, maybe this is just the end of the road for us.

“I’m scared, Olivia,” Johnson murmured. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” I whispered, brushing his hair back gently. “I’m here. I’m always going to be here. We’ll figure this out... together.”

But even as I said the words, a voice in my head asked: What if you can’t keep that promise?

:::::::::::::::::::

After the paperwork was signed and the funeral arrangements, ones we couldn’t afford were made, we left the hospital and walked home in silence like two lost children looking for shelter.

Our apartment building came into view. And standing at the entrance, arms folded across his chest, was Mr. Peterson, our landlord.

Dread twisted in my stomach.

“Olivia. Johnson,” he said as we approached. His voice was firm, but his eyes held a flicker of sympathy. “I... heard about your mom. I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you,” I replied softly, already bracing for the blow I knew was coming next.

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I hate to bring this up now, but... you’re five months behind on rent. That’s over fifteen thousand dollars. I’ve tried to be patient, I really have. But I can’t keep carrying the cost. Other tenants are beginning to complain about you guys and it is really weighing them down.”

I felt Johnson move closer, clutching my sleeve. “How long do we have?” I asked quietly.

“One month,” he said. “I’m sorry. But if you can’t pay by then... you’ll have to vacate.”

Fifteen thousand dollars in thirty days. It might as well have been fifteen million.

“I understand,” I murmured. “Thank you... for the time.”

We climbed the stairs, three flights up, and I fought to hold it together with every step. When I finally unlocked our door, the weight of grief hit me all over again. The apartment felt emptier, shabby, somehow, even though everything was in place, Mom’s blanket still folded neatly on the couch, her coffee cup still sitting in the sink.

“I’m hungry,” Johnson said in a small voice.

I opened the fridge, praying for something, anything but a miracle in the fridge. But all I found was a half-empty carton of sour milk and some wilted lettuce. The pantry offered no comfort either, just a few broken crackers and an empty cereal box we hadn’t thrown away.

“There’s nothing,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Johnson. There’s nothing.”

That night, we curled up on Mom’s bed, holding each other. We cried until our tears dried. Johnson eventually drifted off, face pressed against my chest. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything had unraveled so quickly…

Just yesterday, we were a family, barely hanging on, but still together.

Now we were orphans. With no food. No money. No home soon.

:::::::::::::::

The next morning, reality didn’t wait. Johnson was already awake, staring out the window with tired, sad eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” I asked gently.

He shook his head. “I kept hoping Mom would walk through the door and tell us it was all a bad dream.”

I wished the same thing. But wishes weren’t going to feed us. Or pay the rent…

Around noon, someone knocked on our door. When I opened it, Mrs. Chen from down the hall stood there holding a warm casserole dish.

“I heard about your mom,” she said kindly. “I brought some food.”

Tears pricked at my eyes again. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to us.”

She smiled gently, handed me the dish, and patted my shoulder. “Your mom was proud of you two. If you need anything, you come to me, alright?”

We ate the casserole slowly, savoring every bite. It was the first real food we’d had in a day, and it gave us just enough strength to think clearly on the next thing.

That afternoon, I decided to look for work. I knew it might mean skipping school, but we had no other choice. Johnson was old enough to stay home for a few hours. We needed money like nothing else.

For hours, I walked the streets, going from door-to-door, grocery stores, cafés, diners, pharmacies. Every place I tried either wasn’t hiring or wanted full-time experience I didn’t have. By the time I headed home, I was exhausted, defeated, so juiced and drained out and the funniest part no food.

Still, Mom’s voice echoed in my head: “When life knocks you down, you get back up and fight. That’s what strong people do.”

I had to be strong. I had to.

::::::::::::

The next day brought another blow.

Our phone was disconnected. I guess Mom hadn’t been able to keep up with the bills. Now I had no way for employers to reach me, it was like moving from frying pan to fire….

While filling out an application at the grocery store down the street, I overheard two women talking.

“They shut off that family’s electricity this morning... poor kids,” one said.

My heart dropped. I rushed home and flipped the light switch.

Nothing.

“Olivia, why won’t the lights work?” Johnson asked from the darkened living room.

“They cut the power,” I said softly, sitting beside him. “But it’s okay. We’ll figure something out as usual.”

He looked at me, his eyes wide and frightened. “Are we going to die?”

That question shattered me in ways nothing else had.

“No, sweetheart,” I whispered, pulling him close. “We’re not going to die. We’re survivors. Just like Mom said. We’re going to get through this, everything is going to be okay bro.”

That night, we ate the last of Mrs. Chen’s casserole by candlelight. We made a plan.

I’d skip school again tomorrow and keep searching for work. Johnson would stay home and start packing, just in case.

The next day, I walked downtown. I handed out résumés, asked around, stepped into offices hoping someone, anyone might give me a chance. My feet ached, every part of my body screamed. My stomach growled with cheerful hunger. Still, I kept going.

By four in the afternoon, I finally decided to head home.

Maybe tomorrow will be different, I told myself.

But as I neared our apartment, a terrible silence greeted me. No sound from the TV. No footsteps. No familiar hum of his humming.

“Johnson?” I called, unlocking the door. “I’m home!”

No answer. My chest tightened. I rushed through the apartment, calling his name. Then I found him, in the bedroom, collapsed beside Mom’s bed. Unconscious. Cold…

“Johnson!” I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him. “Please wake up! Johnson!”

He didn’t move.

His breathing was shallow, really slow. His skin pale. Panic ran through me at that instant because I didn't know what to do.

As I held my brother’s limp body in the dark, powerless apartment, I realized our nightmare wasn’t over. It was just the beginning, everything is really crashing down but will I allow my brother to die?