"My name is Tokyo...
But when this story started, that wasn't my name."
Running from the wounds of her past, she finds her solace in a dull life, until one night will change it all.
Thrown in the middle of a life and death situation, she's forced t...
Photographed. Fingerprinted. Jailed. This is how you end up if you hit a cop. I didn't pay attention when someone recited my rights, because the only thing that I could've thought of was if my entire act lasted enough for Juan to escape. And, here I am, sitting on a hard bed from a small cell inside the police station. I don't even know for how long I'll stay here. No fake identity would've saved me, as the police easily accessed my old records: drug possession and the fact that, a few years ago, I was drunk driving when I accidentally hit someone who was crossing the road. Adding the fact that I beat three cops now, I don't see myself getting out of here too soon. My only problem is that I probably looked terrible in my mugshot. I remember how I told Juan that I'm always using makeup because I want to look good in the pic. Unfortunately, this picture was taken after a sleepless night and, the previous day spent with Juan's gang, far from my beauty products. I'm sure he would've laughed if he would've heard my current concern, but I can't help it. After all, I'm just a typical woman who just entered in the thirties vertigo. I let myself fall on the bed. The pillow is hard too and the blanket has a strong smell of bleach. I don't want to know who used these before me, but it's not like I can think of it much. In the next second, I'm up running to the toilet, falling on my knees while leaning down to throw up. I try to hold my hair, thinking about the horrible food I ate with the gang. There's no doubt I'm emptying my stomach from the slightest disgusting smell after their weird dishes. My body is weakened after a few minutes spent with the toilet, but I know I have to get up, and at least lay down in bed. So, I gather all my forces and, from the second attempt, I succeed to hold my balance. I wash my face fast and rinse my mouth, desperately trying to make the sickness disappear. The towels have the same smell of bleach, and I'm struggling not to go embrace the toilet again. When my body finally hits the hard surface of the bed, I can say that I'm happy as I succeeded to get till here without falling on the concrete floor. I let out a loud sigh. My agitated stomach has calmed a bit, but not enough to make me believe it won't do like this again. My eyes are slowly closing, as the tiredness accumulated these days is finally taking over. I feel like I'm living in exile, far from civilization, but, most painfully, far from Juan. In a way, I should be happy that my plan succeeded, but somehow, the regrets are slipping into my soul and the second thoughts appear. Was this the answer to save him, or did I desperately sell my freedom for nothing? I won't find the response to this question now. I don't even have time to analyze it in its own depth, because the sleep is way more powerful than my humanly intentions. And I think of Juan, while I was entering in another world that was as empty as this one, because it lacked his presence. The only thing that keeps me breathing is hope, because, deep down, I still believe in what he said to me, that no matter what, he'll always find his way back.
A loud sound fills my ears, bringing me back from the land of dreams. I jump out of bed in the moment when I realize it's my cell's door. This couldn't be possible, I think while the guard is opening the last locker. But, now there are two possibilities. The first and most plausible one was that they were moving me to a normal prison, because the second one was really hard to believe. I haven't spent a day here and, chances for me to be freed were almost zero, yet I choose to bet on this option. "Come with me," the guard says when the door is being opened. I don't reply, I just try to make my body move in a normal rhythm. My hopes are getting even bigger in the moment when I see that he's not handcuffing me anymore, as I follow the guard on the dimly lit hallway. I'm trying to remind myself how to breathe in the moment when I take a seat at a desk in front of an officer who's more preoccupied by his computer than me. "Oliveira?" he asks plainly. "Yes," I reply worried. "Silene," he adds in the same plain voice while he's typing something. "Yes," I say trying to analyze his features. All I get are mixed feelings till now. The officer doesn't give me any clue about what is going on, and, I guess this is part of their job, to scare the shit out of you. "Born in Moraleja, Cáceres, autonomous community of Extremadura, on August 9, 1985," he continues. "Yes," I try to adjust my voice and make it sound as plain as his. "You're free to go," he's finally looking away from his computer. "I apologize for the misunderstanding." What? I scream in my mind. Misunderstanding? What the actual fuck is going on? But, to be honest I don't care. "Here are your things," he says handing me a small tray. "Carry your ID with you next time so there won't be any confusions, okay?" "Yes," I say trying to look less shocked. "I will." I'm so happily confused about everything that's going on, that I almost jump out of joy when I leave the office. Freedom seemed so far in my exile, but, now that I have it, I feel like they'll come after me to say it was a mistake and lock me again. But, half of my mind knows it won't happen. I'm saying half because the rest is too preoccupied to throw a mini party since I couldn't manifest with the policemen there. I don't know who did this, but my gut says that my guardian angel is well and I can't wait for the moment when I'll be reunited with him. The first thing that hits me as I step outside the police station is the smell of fall. I always hated to sense this while it was still summer, but now, I associate it too much with my freedom to be able to feel something else other than an immeasurable amount of joy. Then, there's the sunset beautifully covering everything around me with its melted gold rays. This makes me realize exactly how much time has passed while I stayed inside. Less than a day to be kept in custody after beating three policemen. I really want to know who's the author of this magical release, but most importantly, I wish I'd know what am I supposed to do now. The answer to my question comes in the form of a honk. Then, I see the black Lamborghini that was waiting right in front of me, with one of the windows slightly opened. "Come in, babe!" I hear from inside. I could recognize this voice from a million and I can't do anything but laugh as I enter Rodrigo's car. He's wearing sunglasses and smoking from a cigarette that smells like it's not entirely made of tobacco. "Rodrigo!" I exclaim. I don't think I've ever been happier to see this brat. "Yes, that's me," he chuckles. I lean down and give him a tight hug. "Thank you," I whisper. "Don't mention it," Rodrigo says smiling while looking for something in the storage compartment. I'm almost a hundred percent sure he did this, yet I was shocked that someone like Rodrigo doesn't want to show off his achievements. "How's freedom?" he asks laughing while handing me a pair of glasses too. "Never felt better," I reply while putting them on. "Cigarette?" he asks. I take it from his hand. "Rodrigo you can't call that a cigarette," I say while taking a few puffs. "We're in front of a police station," he laughs. "And, now, that you're all set, I think we can go." I nod, as I'm too preoccupied to smoke. The weed always had the power to calm me almost immediately, and I can't believe that I completely forgot that until today. We drive across the city that was bathed in the sun's last rays. I wish I could take off my glasses to admire the sunset, but I'm pretty sure you can't see much from this car since all the windows seemed to be made to block the light, so I just sit and try to imagine how it looks like in real life, without all these color alterations. "Why do I have to wear glasses?" I ask. "You can't see shit inside this car." "To look cool," Rodrigo says while turning on the music. I laugh. He's probably around twenty seven or something, yet, sometimes, he's acting like a kid. "How's Juan?" I finally voice the only question that matters to me. "He's fine," Rodrigo replies shortly, suddenly focused on driving. I don't know why, but I feel that something happened between these two. "Rodrigo?" I try to make my voice sound as friendly as possible. "Yes?" he's raising an eyebrow, probably sensing my failed attempt to sound nice. "What happened?" I ask directly. "Nothing." He turns for a second to look at me. "Don't worry, Silene, we're good." "It doesn't sound like you're good," I reply. "What's with you? Did you argue?" "A bit," Rodrigo admits. "Why?" I'm a bit annoyed, as I never liked to see Juan upset. "Because of what happened." His voice is lower than usual. "I told him to stay away from that gang and, look, you ended up in prison just to save his dumbass. Do you have any idea how hard it was to take you out? They wanted to give you a year." I froze at the thought that I might've been locked in a cell for so long. "I'm sorry," I barely whisper. "No, don't be." Rodrigo's voice is calmer. "You saved him and all those fuckers. Thank you." "It's okay," I say remembering about the last night's events. "I just wanted to see him fine." "Those idiots wanted to convince him to leave you in prison and to come back to them!" Rodrigo exclaims. "But, he argued with their boss and left. When he came to me, he was almost crying after he realized what he did. I know he was aware, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut and reproached him. That's why we argued." I know Juan can be quite temperamental, especially with someone like Rodrigo who can't keep his mouth shut, but in a way, it wasn't Juan's fault. "I don't know if he told you, but we were caught by them and left without any other option," I say. "I know, it's because of the stupid advice that I gave you to rob that store." He punches the wheel. "Goddamnit, it's all because of me!" "Rodrigo, calm down." My hand is caressing his shoulder. "You couldn't have known. It's not your fault." "Juan says it is." Rodrigo's voice sounds like a child who's just lost his favorite toy. "That's what he told me." "It just happened, okay?" I try to calm him. "It's no one's fault. Blame God, or the universe or whatever, but it's not your fault." He's silent for a few moments, probably analyzing what I just told him, then he says, "Thanks, Silene, it means a lot." We spend the rest of the drive in silence, none of us feeling that's appropriate to say something or, better said none of us knows what to say. He stops the car in front of the porch of a villa, somewhere north of Madrid, in an area that I've never visited before, but which I knew well enough is reserved for a distinct category of people — the rich. Slowly, the gate opens, and an impressive garden is unveiling in front of my eyes. He drives through it and I can see how many amazing species of plants were growing in a space that was apparently small. It reminds me of Tatiana's garden, even if the dimension was way more reduced. The door to the garage is already open, but he doesn't go there. Instead, he parks the car in front of a giant marble stairway that goes to the front door. "Welcome to my crib," Rodrigo announces and I can sense that he's feeling a bit better, as I recognize the iconic excitement from his voice. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay in my humble house." "Thanks," I laugh. His humble house is an 18th century villa, completely renovated and impeccably conserving all its original details, from the columns to the small ornamental sculptures that are decorating the windows. Rodrigo gets out first. Then, he comes to hold my door too. I smile as I remember how Juan was doing the exact same thing. "Is he here?" I ask Rodrigo as we climb the marble stairs. "I don't know," he replies in something that wants to be an innocent voice. But, I don't need any confirmation, I simply feel it. My heartbeat changes from normal to fast, my stomach is filled again with butterflies and I can't hold my smile. A Serb that I think I've seen before opens the giant front door and Rodrigo makes me a sign to go first. Impressive is too little to describe the enormous hallway decorated with all sort of paintings and statues, with a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the sculpted ceiling. But, I don't have much time to admire the beauty of the interior decorations as I hear a voice coming from the back of the hallway. "Silene!" This is the voice I'm longing to hear ever since we got separated yesterday. The voice that has the power to bring me back to life. The voice that said the most beautiful words to me in moments when all I felt was pain. The voice that belongs to my favorite person in the entire world. Juan runs to me, his arms wrapping around my body tightly, like all he felt till now was the fear that he won't touch me ever again. "Te amo,"* he says while kissing me deeply. "I missed you so much." "Te amo,"* I barely whisper through the veil of tears that's now blocking my sight. And I've never felt more happy to cry, because unlike many times before, right now I was crying out of the most amazing joy — the joy of being reunited with my soulmate.
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