CHAPTER 2: THE CHILD WHO COULDN'T BREATHE
The pharmacist adjusted his glasses and looked at Marco suspiciously.
“This medication is for a child?”
Marco nodded.
“A seven-year-old boy.”
The pharmacist hesitated before finally handing over the paper bag.
“Who are you to him?”
For the first time, Marco didn't have an answer.
Because technically, he was nobody.
Just a stranger.
A stranger who couldn't forget the look in a mother's eyes when she sold her lifeline for less than two hundred dollars.
He took the inhalers and left.
Twenty minutes later, he parked outside the aging apartment building on Callaway Street.
The structure looked exhausted.
Peeling paint.
Broken railings.
Trash overflowing near the entrance.
Marco climbed the stairs carrying the bag.
As he reached Apartment 2B, he heard coughing.
Violent coughing.
A child.
The sound stopped him cold.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
The coughing grew worse.
Then came Jenny's voice.
Weak.
Tired.
“Please... I already told the landlord I'll pay next week.”
Marco frowned.
“Ms. Reeves?”
Silence.
The door slowly opened.
Jenny stood there.
Her eyes widened instantly.
“You.”
She recognized him from the pawn shop.
Marco held up the bag.
“You were short.”
Jenny stared.
“What?”
“The inhaler.”
Her face immediately hardened.
“I don't need charity.”
The coughing erupted again.
Louder this time.
Marco looked past her shoulder.
A little boy sat on a couch struggling for air.
His small chest heaved desperately.
Jenny's entire body trembled.
The brave mask she wore all day cracked.
Just slightly.
Marco gently held out the paper bag.
“Please.”
For several seconds she didn't move.
Then she grabbed it.
Opened it.
Saw all three inhalers.
Her knees nearly gave out.
“Oh my God…”
Tears filled her eyes.
Not dramatic tears.
The silent kind.
The kind that come after you've spent too long being strong.
She rushed to her son.
Within minutes, the boy's breathing began to stabilize.
The apartment grew quiet.
And for the first time all day, Marco felt his own chest loosen.
Then a loud pounding shook the front door.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Jenny froze.
Her face drained of color.
“Who is it?” Marco asked.
She whispered one word.
“Landlord.”