CHAPTER TWO: Enduring for Dreams
Erik's Thoughts
After a long night on the road, we were nearing our first destination. We couldn't sell at the big markets dominated by wealthy farmers with vast fields, so we had no choice but to travel farther to smaller towns, hoping to sell enough to make a living.
After six grueling hours, we reached the first town. We had one hour to roam the market and hawk our vegetables. I slung a heavy basket of carrots onto my back—over fifteen kilos, straining my shoulders and spine. It hurt, but I had to push through.
"Hey, miss, buy some fresh Lingawin carrots!" I called out to a vendor, forcing a smile.
We walked over four kilometers, weaving through shops and stalls. Time flew by, and soon we were back on the truck, heading to the next town. I dozed off, lulled by the rumble of the engine, only waking when Kardo, our driver and group leader, banged on the truck's side. We'd arrived at our second stop.
The market was alive with noise and light, its high roof towering over us. This was one of the city's biggest hubs, where vendors bought produce to resell across town. It was a good spot for us—buyers came to us, so we didn't have to peddle on the streets. Since it was late, our group decided to spend the night here and continue traveling tomorrow.
Even at the edge of the market, people approached to buy, even if just a kilo or two. It was slow, but safer than risking a trip to the next town, where rebels might target our truck. To them, we were prey, our vegetables a prize to feed their cause.
I sold with energy, thrilled by the city's bustle compared to our quiet village. My first basket of carrots sold out in an hour, and I rushed to grab another from the truck. But as I stepped back toward my spot, my knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground.
"Huh?" I gasped, confused. Did I trip? Was I pushed? My legs felt weak, unsteady.
Kardo saw me and frowned, his voice sharp. "Don't push yourself, kid. You're too young to ruin your body."
Kardo was always gruff with me. He didn't want me here, only agreeing because my parents begged him. He thought kids slowed the group down, a burden.
I couldn't afford to look weak in front of him, or he might not let me come again. I flashed a grin, ignoring his words, and got back to selling. There were still buyers, and I couldn't waste time.
The night was short—we'd head to another market tomorrow. I sold four baskets before the crowd thinned out. Exhausted, I climbed onto the truck to rest with the others.
I pulled out the plastic bag where I kept my earnings, a wide grin spreading across my face as I counted the money. It was enough to help my family, to keep us going. I tucked it into my rabbit-designed wallet, a gift from my sister, imagining my parents' proud smiles when I got home.
Then my stomach growled. "I'm starving," I muttered.
I hadn't eaten all day. I didn't think about food much—maybe I wasn't used to it. All I had were the boiled carrots my mom packed.
I grabbed a white bag from a basket, sprinkled salt on a carrot, and ate. It was my breakfast, lunch, and now dinner. My companions on the truck grimaced, finding it strange, but I'd grown up on carrots. To me, they were delicious.
Still, carrots couldn't fill me up. I felt weak, my stomach aching for something heavier—rice, meat, anything.
"This hunger's killing me," I groaned, clutching my stomach. The pain was sharp, like my insides were eating themselves.
Cold sweat trickled down my face, and dizziness crept in. I tried closing my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but the hunger wouldn't let me.
End of Thoughts
"Mama, Papa, I can't take it anymore," Erik whispered, wincing in pain.
He stood, rummaging through his basket for more food, knowing it was empty but hoping he'd missed something. His mind felt foggy, his body at its limit. The pain was unbearable, and he'd do anything to make it stop.
"This hurts too much," he groaned.
Grabbing his wallet, Erik climbed off the truck. All he could think about was finding food or medicine to ease the pain. Each step was a struggle, his face tight with effort. Kardo noticed him leaving.
"Hey, Carrot Boy! Where are you going?" he shouted from the driver's seat.
Erik turned, explaining his stomach pain. Kardo understood but hesitated, his hand pausing over his bag. He had a piece of bread but didn't offer it, torn by his own needs and Erik's miserable state. He knew how tough Erik was, working so hard at such a young age. Finally, he let Erik go, warning him about rebels and thieves lurking at night.
Erik nodded, fear flickering in his chest, but the hunger pushed him forward. He stumbled through the streets, weak and dazed, until he reached a small diner. Even at nearly eleven, a few people were eating inside.
The rich aroma of food hit him, making his mouth water. The dishes seemed to glow, tempting him with every scent. He imagined sinking his teeth into them, losing control to his hunger.
Erik's Thoughts
The food smells so good. Just looking at it, I know it's delicious. This is what I need to stop the pain. Something feels wrong, but I don't care anymore. I just want to eat.
A faint voice echoed in my head, calling my name, urging me to stop. Was it my imagination? I didn't know, but it felt like I was forgetting something.
Every time I hesitated to point at a dish, my stomach twisted, reminding me of the hunger.
I was confused—maybe it was the hunger clouding my mind. I had to eat to think clearly.
Why should I hold back? I'm starving. I could die if I don't eat. But then I saw the prices next to the dishes. I couldn't read everything—some were in another language—but the numbers were clear.
Sixty pesos for rice and a dish? That's insane! Back home, rice costs five pesos, and a dish is ten.
I asked why it was so expensive. The vendor looked at me, puzzled, and said, "You're not in the mountains, kid. This is city life."
That's when it hit me—how different this place was from our village. The diner was bright, with electric fans, clean tables, a television, and customers holding gadgets. The streets outside were paved, lined with glowing lampposts. The city had things we didn't—cement roads, tall buildings, modern life. I couldn't complain about the differences.
Then I thought of my sisters, who I wanted to send to school in Manila. If they studied there, they wouldn't gawk at the city like me, feeling foolish. Manila, they say, is the capital, a thriving city. If things were this expensive here, how much worse would it be there? I looked at my wallet, realizing how much my sisters would need just to eat every day.
City kids had it easy, born into this life. They didn't have to endure the struggles of a provincial kid like me. If I'd been born here, I'd go to a proper school with clean water, lights for studying at night, and good food.
I'd walk through tall buildings, see the world from their heights, and hang out with friends without worrying about tomorrow's meals. I'd have a taste of the city kids' lives.
But that's impossible for me. I only finished sixth grade. Poverty stopped my education, and I regret not studying harder when I had the chance. That was my last shot at school.
Still, it's not too late for my sisters. They're my hope, my treasure. As I thought about them, I closed my eyes for a moment. Then I shut my wallet and walked out of the diner. Strangely, my stomach pain faded.
Maybe it was thinking of my sisters' future or the guilt of spending money we couldn't spare.
But even if the pain was gone, my arms and knees still felt weak, craving energy. Why was I working so hard if I'd let hunger defeat me?I wouldn't die from skipping one meal.
"I won't give up!" I shouted, raising my hands to the sky.
Those words fueled my resolve to face life's hardships. The struggles I endured were tests I had to overcome for my dreams.
-End of Thoughts-
Erik gazed at the twinkling stars, filled with determination to change his family's life. A boy with big dreams, he didn't know how far they'd take him, but he was ready to try.
"Alright, I'll sell even more tomorrow," he told himself.
As he stepped away, something hard struck his head. Pain exploded, and he crumpled to the street. Darkness closed in, his vision fading. Blood trickled from a wound on his head. In the dead of night, no one saw the attack. The thieves who robbed him vanished, leaving Erik sprawled on the ground, helpless.
End of Chapter Two