When the brothers returned home, they frantically tried to come up with various excuses as to why their younger brother was not with them.
It was already dark, and they had finished dinner.
Renzo's mother, Aling Mirasol, was quietly putting her youngest child, Larry, to sleep in their room.
Their father, Mang Fidel, was lying on a bed because he had a serious illness, and they needed a large sum of money for his treatment.
The two brothers quietly entered the house.
Suddenly, their stepmother, Aling Mirasol, emerged from the room, adjusting her messy hair.
The brothers were startled by Aling Mirasol's sudden appearance. The three of them looked at each other.
"Oh, you're here already. Go ahead and eat," Aling Mirasol said.
"Where is Renzo? Why isn't he with you?" she asked, confused.
"Au...Auntie," Michael stammered. The two couldn't speak, unable to think of an answer.
Aling Mirasol suddenly felt anxious. She had a terrible premonition, and her knees began to tremble.
"Why can't you answer? Where is your brother?" Her voice changed, trembling and worried.
She quickly walked to the door to call for Renzo outside, but he wasn't there.
"Auntie, Renzo is missing. We don't know where he went," Michael said, his voice shaking. He felt cold sweat on the back of his neck. He wanted to confess, but he remembered the man's threat: if he told the truth, he might be the one in danger.
The mother suddenly felt faint upon hearing the news. She clutched the doorframe. It felt like she had been drenched with ice-cold water.
"What... what did you say?" Aling Mirasol whispered, her voice trembling. She turned pale and quickly approached Michael and his brother.
"You don't know? How can you not know? You left with him earlier!" she exclaimed, almost screaming, as tears welled up in her eyes.
She held her chest, feeling her heart pound rapidly. "My God... Renzo..."
She quickly left the boys and rushed to the room where Mang Fidel was lying. Her voice shook as she called out to him.
"Fidel... Renzo... he's missing! They didn't bring him home!" Aling Mirasol cried, her voice rattling.
Mang Fidel opened his eyes, struggling to move but visibly shocked. "What?! What do you mean?" His voice was weak but firm.
Aling Mirasol returned to the brothers, tears practically flowing. "Tell me the truth! Where is your brother? Please don't lie to me! Don't torment me!"
She stepped closer to Michael, gripping his shoulder tightly, trembling with desperation. "Where did you take him? What happened to my son?!"
The two could barely look at her. The quiet living room was filled with the shouts and sobs of a mother torn apart by fear.
"RENZO!!!" she screamed, running out of the house and peering into the darkness outside, as if hoping her missing son would appear.
****
One night, before the children were to be taken to China, they were one by one loaded into a white L300 van to be brought to Manila, where they would be forced to beg, along with Renzo.
"Hurry up, get in!" a man ordered the children.
Renzo didn't know what was happening, so he asked the child next to him.
"Where are we going?" Renzo asked, his eyes swollen from crying.
"We're going to Manila to beg," the child answered.
"I want to go home," Renzo said tearfully.
Inside the van, which smelled of sweat and cigarettes, the children were silent, their faces pale, their eyes quickly darting around due to fear and anxiety, as if constantly anticipating danger to their lives.
Renzo, sitting on the side, struggled to hold back tears as he looked out at the darkness through the window. Every streetlight on the road seemed like a scattered eye watching them.
A man spoke. "In Manila, no messing around. You'll all do exactly what I tell you," he stated sternly. Renzo's eyes widened in terror.
A child in the opposite seat softly cried out, "I want to go home!"
"You're not going home. Tomorrow, we're taking you to China," the man laughed loudly.
Renzo looked around—the van doors weren't open, and there was nowhere to run. He felt like every minute the darkness was drawing closer, every curve in the road seemed like a sign of misfortune.
"Don't you dare talk or report to anyone, especially the police, or you'll be in big trouble with us!" the man's voice boomed.
Renzo was terrified, his body shaking with fear and dread.
Inside the vehicle, the children were silent, except for the whispers of a few attempting to ask questions.
Renzo, sitting on the side, struggled to hold back tears as he looked out at the darkness through the window. Every streetlight on the road seemed like a scattered eye watching them.
A man approached, standing at the front of the van. "In Manila, no messing around. You'll all do exactly what I tell you," he stated sternly. Renzo's eyes widened in terror.
Renzo's eyes darted around—the van doors weren't open, and there was nowhere to run. He felt like every minute the darkness was drawing closer, every curve in the road seemed like a sign of misfortune.
When they arrived in Manila, a white van stopped by the side of a busy street. The surroundings were bright, full of store lights and the noise of jeepneys, tricycles, and rushing people. To Renzo, it felt like he had been transported to a different world.
"Hurry up, get out!" the man shouted.
The children were made to get out one by one. Each pair was instructed on where to stand and how to beg for alms. Some carried cans, while others simply held out their hands.
Another man approached Renzo and shoved him into a corner. "Hey, you, here. Sit there, hold your hand out to people. Don't stand up unless we tell you to stop!" Despite his fear, this was the first time he had seen the city so bright, noisy, and crowded, which made him even more confused and afraid.
Renzo's eyes were swollen. He felt shame and fear. A few people approached, giving him coins, but most ignored him. Some looked at him coldly, as if he were worthless.
As time passed, some children quietly approached the men guarding them to give them the money they had begged for.
Renzo noticed that the guards were busy counting the money.
Renzo looked around. In the distance, he saw a small alley leading to a darker part of the street. There were hardly any people there, and clothes were hung on a wire.
"If I run now..." he whispered to himself, trembling with anxiety. "Maybe... maybe I can get away."
He took a deep breath. When he saw the guard look away, he suddenly acted. He stood up from his sitting position, threw the can he was holding to the side, and quickly ran towards the alley.
The guard heard the noise of the can being thrown and saw Renzo running.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" one of the men shouted when he noticed him.
Renzo ran quickly, feeling his heart pound. He entered the narrow alley, stumbled on the wet cement, but immediately got up. He didn't mind the cut on his knee—the important thing was to get away.
He heard the footsteps of the men chasing him, but as he went deeper, he saw more paths and turns. He passed a crumbling wall and slipped between two large cardboard boxes.
He breathed quietly, desperately hiding himself. He felt the sweat dripping from his forehead as the men chasing him passed the corner without noticing him.
When they had gone, he slowly came out of his hiding spot. His knees were shaking, but his eyes shone with a glimmer of hope.
"I can escape... I can go back to Nanay," he whispered, then ran again towards a more crowded part of the street.
Renzo was exhausted, almost out of breath from running and escaping. His feet were swollen, and his knee was still cut from his fall earlier. He barely had the strength to continue.
In a dark part of the alley, he saw an old vegetable cart that a vendor had left. He slowly squeezed himself in, tucking his small body under the old tarp and cardboard boxes.
The air smelled of sweat and dirt, but to Renzo, it was the safest place he could hide. He lay down, hugged his own arms, and closed his eyes.
He felt the hunger gnawing in his stomach, but exhaustion was overpowering.
As his eyes slowly closed, he could hear the noisy traffic in the distance—the honking of jeepneys, the shouts of fighting people, and the laughter of drunks.
"Mother.. Father... I want to go home," he whispered before finally falling asleep, tears wiping his cheek.
In his dream, he was at home. He was sitting at the dining table with his family, with warm soup in front of him, and he could hear his mother's voice calling his name.
But on the other side of reality, he was in the middle of the city—alone, vulnerable, and uncertain if he would be safe when he woke up... or if the men chasing him would be there again.