104 Leaving to Meet William Jones

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~~~(POV: Ulysses Kennedy)~~~

~~~(Date: January 25th, 2026)~~~

~~~(Location: Venice Beach, LA)~~~

~~~(Time: 12:08 PM)~~~

I sink the last shot from beyond the arch for the second game, and the crowd goes crazy. Venice Beach has gotten pretty crowded, and I'm looking forward to leaving with Hannah and Bianca to go meet William. I see Hannah waiting for me with a smile, and Bianca is next to her. I make my way over, and Hannah gives me a big hug.

She lets go, and I focus on Bianca. "Let's go. I want to go and meet William. The limo is waiting for us." Bianca is on the verge of tears as we walk towards the limo, and Hannah is comforting her. I guess it means a lot that I do this. More than I thought it would. We get into the limo, and she looks around the vehicle with wonder. Like it's something out of a movie.

Bianca and William must come from a poor family, and I couldn't imagine the stress of having to support William's medical bills. Sarcoma is an aggressive cancer, and radiation, Chemo, and hospital beds aren't cheap. "When was William diagnosed with Sarcoma?" I would like to know the kid's story. It takes a lot of strength to fight cancer at such a young age.

She takes a calming breath and tries to compose herself. It must be hard given her state just talking about it. "William has been fighting Sarcoma since he was 7, and he's 11 now. Every time he enters remission, it doesn't take long until it comes back... The Chemo and radiation have nearly killed him..." Hannah unconsciously grips my hand.

Cancer isn't a disease you catch, its one that develops naturally in the body. Dead cells not dying in basic terms. For someone so young to fight like this... He must have a genetic predisposition for it... "Our mom was abusing drugs when she was pregnant with him... He came out perfectly fine mentally, but as he grew older, his body started to fail him..." My heart clenches hearing that.

A mother abusing drugs while pregnant with a baby... It can lead to disasters... "Mind if I ask if the mom and dad are still in the picture..." She slowly shakes her head... "So it's just you taking care of him?" She nods her head, and my breath has been taken away. She's the one taking care of William? "How are you able to do this?" This is astounding to me. Wow.

She lets a solemn smile grace her face, and she does her best to hide the pain. "I dropped out of school and started working. I work 2 jobs, and I took some time off work to come and see you..." This is one of the saddest things I've ever been a part of in my life. My parents dying was rough on me, but this sounds like a harder life than I could imagine.

Hannah is white-knuckling my hand with her grip, and she's starting to tear up. "Okay, I'm going to do something to help you guys. I have an incredibly large following on Twitter, and I'm going to post your story and a picture of you and William. If that's alright with you." She looks at me like she's not believing what she's hearing.

Hannah looks at me too, and I'm not done yet. "Hannah, you'll set up a go fund me while we're taking pictures and I'm meeting William. By the end of the visit. We'll post on Twitter, and the Go Fund Me will be up." I'm going to help these two. If anyone I've met in my life deserves it, it's them. Bianca has made so many sacrifices for William.

And I'm going to make sure she doesn't have to make any more sacrifices. "You'd really do that for us..." I nod my head and give the most confident smile I can give. "How do you know that people will even help us? No one has before..." Sometimes, you just need the right person to be the one to help. And my following and connections can be that for them.

They're a brother and sister, and one of them is doing the best to keep the other alive. How can people not help them? "Don't worry. I promise there will never be a need to work for your brother's medical needs again. You have my word." I know there are people who will donate large sums of money simply because I'm the one doing this for them. And I'm going to use that.

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