Chapter 6 Weight of becoming

Sam didn't sleep a minute that night. As the darkness began to pull away from the sky, he sat staring at the old time clock - the family heirloom that now felt more like a curse than a gift. A gift or a curse? he asked it silently, hoping for an answer he knew would never come.

Part of him wanted to throw it away. But its sentimental weight kept him tethered to it. Maya's words echoed in his mind - about the emotional baggage he was carrying. Maybe this clock was part of that. Maybe holding onto it was what kept the pain of his father's death etched so deeply in his heart. Maybe he couldn't move on because he didn't want to.

Maybe, he thought, I'm just a soldier-wounded, broken, and being punished by life's cruel hand.

Or maybe... I deserve this.

Maybe suffering is what makes a man.

He ruminated in silence until the sound of crows cawing outside pulled him back to reality. He had lost track of time. Jolting out of bed, he rushed to his sister's room to start the day. Today, he knew his answer to Troy's offer - he was ready to step into his uncle's shoes... or at least try to.

Later at school, Sam looked drained - his eyes swollen and red from a sleepless night. Troy spotted him immediately.

"Boy, you look like hell," he said, grinning. "What happened to you? Eyes all puffy. Don't tell me that beautiful girl from yesterday spent the night? You pulled an all-nighter, huh?"

Sam blinked, confused by the sudden barrage of teasing.

"No, man. We just talked for a while. She walked me back home, that's all. Maya was an old crush from Neverland - we caught up, that's it. She didn't even come inside."

Troy raised a brow, unconvinced. "Sure, bro. But I saw the way you looked at her. You're head over heels. And if she walked you all the way to your house, and even saw your sister? She cares, man. Don't mess that up."

He smirked. "Get the money, and she'll be all over you like a snack."

Sam didn't laugh. His face fell.

"My uncle lost his job," he said quietly. "He's been fired."

Troy's mouth dropped open in shock, then slowly curled into a grin. "Then this is perfect. This is your chance to step up, bro. Take the mantle. Be the man of the house."

He leaned in. "This job came at the perfect time. I came at the perfect time. So what do you say?"

Sam looked down, took a breath, and replied, "I'm in."

As the school bell rang for morning assembly, Troy told him, "Meet me at the gates. I already scheduled our appointment with Mr. Reddington. When I give the signal, we move."

Back at home, John started his morning with a glass of whiskey. Alone, jobless, and drowning in his own regret, he picked up a photo from the family portrait frame - his brother smiling back at him.

He resisted the urge to cry. It felt unmanly.

Instead, he took another swig. I am a man, he muttered to himself. To be a man is to suffer.

He stared at the photo again. What would my brother think of me now? Crying like a boy... worthless.

"No," he whispered. "I just need to fix it myself. I don't need anyone's help. I never have."

With that, he fell into a drunken slumber, just as thunder rumbled and lightning danced across the sky. The rain was coming.

Back at school, Troy finally gave Sam the signal. Sam slipped away from class and followed him to a hidden spot behind the gym. Two older boys were already waiting - clearly seniors based on their uniforms and height. They carried similar school bags and wore serious expressions.

Troy clapped his hands and made introductions. Sam gave a hesitant greeting.

Suddenly, Troy's phone rang.

He answered quickly. "We're ready," he said.

A low voice on the other end replied, "Meet me at the Southside property. Don't be late."

Then the line went dead.

Troy hung up and turned to the group. They exchanged looks.

"Look alive, boys," Troy said, a grin forming. "Time to make money."

He threw his hands in the air and shouted, "Let's make money, boys!"