It was a Sunday. Heat waves warmed the pavements crust as I walked to the corner store to pick up my usual chip-soda combo. I was wearing my staple apparel; A custom designed hoodie with a monkey print stretching from my chest to back. A pair of dark skinny jeans grasping my legs, equipped with my favorite brand of running shoes that my mother had bought as gift for finishing yet another school year.
My mom had raised me on her own for the majority of my life, as her husband-my dad was a soldier fighting in the middle east. Apparently I did meet my father on a few occasions, but I dont remember much about him. All I have left in regards to memories of my dad, are old family pictures and stories of the heroic acts he commited. Most tales I heard were expressed through letters by comrades he saved on the battlefield.
My mother worked as a nurse at the local hospital to help pay the bills while he fought for our country. She was well known by the establishment for being a warm-hearted person, who always put herself before others. Frequently she would stay extra hours, sometimes volunteering just to ensure that those in need were attended to and properly cared for. Things used to be different. Our world made sense back in those easier times, but on this particular day everything changed.
It was around dinner time. The darkening skies were illuminated by stars and the reflection of the moon. I was sitting in the living room, waiting for mom to finish making dinner so that we could watch our weekly tv series, when a black-polished government vehicle pulled into our driveway. At first glance, I had thought that maybe this would my chance to have a full blown conversation with my father. What was he like? I thought.
I was 8 years old at the time, when 2 decorated officers-accompanied by a war veteran stepped onto our porch. When mom opened the door and realized what was going on, she fell to her knees in disbelief and shock from the news being given to her. All she could do was aimlessly gaze at the boots of the visitors as tears rolled down her face. I stared at her from a side angle, in shock, as I watched a hailstorm of water pellets pour from her eyes. Oblivious as to the reason why, I ran across the room and hugged her. I tried my best to support her as the days passed but my mother was never the same after that night. I wasn't either.
The war vet who showed up at our home that night was a squad member under my fathers leadership. According to the story he told us, they were on a mission to help civilians in a bombing catastrophe caused by hostile groups. There were three other squads assisting in the endeavour, until they were ambushed by mercenaries. Nearly everyone was killed in action before backup units arrived and my father's body was never recovered.
Only a few months passed until mom caved into the stress. She was suffering so much from the news that she soon fell sick. This resulted in her having to make regular visits to the hospital. Doctors told us that her condition was a stress-induced case and that at this time; there was nothing we could do except put her on medication to assist in maintaining her physical and mental well-being. Although initially the medication and assigned psychologist did help her, with time things started on a downhill path.
Shortly after her treatment began, my mothers appetite for life began to fade, along with her literal appetite. It was nearly a year after my fathers death, when she started collapsing. I was too young to care for her myself so the only way I could help was by calling the authorities. It became mandatory for her to stay in the hospital; the same of which she had spent many years devoting her time into helping others. Her previous place of employment was now her everyday home. I ended up staying with some cousins and through them-was introduced to the rpg game titled "Everstone Online". I spent all (and I mean all) of my free time playing it. The game was my only escape from my bitter reality of a life and sole activity in which brought me joy since the during the whole ordeal.
About six months have passed. My mother hadn't shown any signs of improvement in health or attitude and ultimately; fell into a coma. The costs to keep her alive in the hospital was being crowdfunded by family, friends and fellow coworkers. Even some people from the military who knew my dad chipped in. It occured to me that one day, there would be no more aid from everyone else-and when that day arrived; I would need to step up to the plate for my mom.
I started working when I was 13. Two part time jobs, firstly as a busboy whilst working as a computer technician for my second source of income. I established relationships through school, earning me the connections needed to recieve job oppurtunities. Shortly after I dropped out to take care of the medical bills. My routine became repetitive for the following years to come. In the morning I would visit my mother at the hospital for an hour, clean dishes until the afternoon and go work on computers until the evening. When I'd get home, my computer chair acted as my protective throne, whilst my computer posed as my escape. It was as close to a perfect life as I could get with the exisiting factors weighing me down. Sadly, when I thought things were starting to go alright for once; the universe and its elements smited us with its merciless wave of inconvenience.
Only 4 days after my 16th birthday, I recieved a call. A call from the hospital. I needed to meet with the head doctor, who I knew fairly well due to my many visits. Dr.philips was his offical name, but I called him by Franklin-his first name. We spoke briefly, as he explained to me that the prices for keeping my mothers life support was soon increasing by almost half the current rate. "An increase of 40%?! I can't afford that." I said with panic. "Well, I dont know what to tell you, fenix. With tax and minimun wage raises, the costs of public services all around are going up. I truly am sorry. I wish you the best ot luck."
Fast forward three weeks to present day. The date is November 15th, 2033. It's been the most stressful period of my life, with everyday closing the gap on my mothers time on earth. She has only one week left before the payments need to be processed by the hospital. If I dont rummage up the funds by then, she will be taken off support and perish. I cant let that happen-I wont! The woman who birthed me. The woman who raised and cared for me since I was a baby, is relying on me. Saving her is my biggest priority; I'll do whatever it takes to protect her from certain death. She is my mission. The mission.