Myocardium

Part 18

My thoughts upon waking up are absolutely crushing me. Painful, rhythmic pulsations are radiating from my head throughout my entire body and I barely manage to open my puffy eyes, that remain bloodshot from all the crying. 

Crystal's...or, well, Miranda's death is a great loss for this world. It's not like I will cause her any harm by revealing her true identity now. Her facade is gone, and so is the person that was so much more than her sex-work persona. 

Miranda, her real name was Miranda. 

One of the first nights I worked at the cathouse, she told me her name, with the command of never, ever talking to anyone about my personal background. 

I told her my name too. I remember that she smiled at me. 

To this day, she abides as one of the only people who ever shared their legal name with me. 

I know why she did it. 

She saw how scared I was and selflessly decided to show me the slightest glimpse of solidarity to hold onto while all the other faces I was looking at every night were nothing but shells. 

Empty, fake and designed to deceive. 

It takes me a hot minute to get out of bed. Much longer than usually. After rinsing the remaining traces of tears off my ghostly pale face, I wake up my siblings and let them get ready while hesitantly grabbing my phone and opening the empty chat with a particular name at the very top of my screen. 

I stare at the display and think of nothing but end up typing out the words 'thank you so much for last night...' and nervously put down my device after pressing the 'send' button. While Daisy is distracted with brushing her teeth, my brother joins me and helps me prepare some lazy breakfast for all of us.

"What's up, Eli? You look a bit beat-up," he asks me, the question brings tears to my eyes that stream down my cheeks inexorably as I'm standing by the sink, not daring to look at my little brother.
"I'll be okay, a co-worker of mine just passed away. I'm just a bit upset about this right now, I'm sorry."

"Jeez. Eli, that is terrible, I'm so sorry about your loss. Do you...want to talk about it?" Sasha continues showing sympathy as I wipe my tears away and turn around to give him a crooked half-smile, which I can only imagine to look more forced than I intend it to. 

"No, it's okay, you don't need to worry about me, really. But thanks, buddy. I appreciate it a lot," I reply, gently shaking my head. Sure, talking to someone might be a good idea, but I don't want to have my little brother go through the revived trauma the conversation might spark. 

Sasha walks over to me and gives me a hug I do not dare ask for, but which I certainly need. Of course, I hug him back. And though I appreciate my brother's efforts, the turmoil inside me doesn't make any instances to vanish.

My siblings and I spend the entire day inside, as I'm not exactly in the mood to go outside. My energy will get drained enough tonight as is, there is no need for me to exhaust myself even more now. What makes it all a bit easier is that Rafael has been replying to the messages I send and resumes checking in on me throughout the day.

It's strange, nobody has ever done that for me. 

Too soon for my comfort, I drag my almost-dead body to work, not even feeling remotely better than last night. Tonight, I have no other option than pushing through though, I need to make money. At least the incredible urge to cry isn't present any longer. 

My heart is empty, there is nothing left. My colleagues are more wasted than usually, which goes to show that all of us seem to have similar ways of coping with grief. JJ, who lifts her head off the table off which she has just snorted a line asks if I'm alright, to which I promptly reply that I'll manage. I fulfill my nightly routine as per usual, take a shower, redress and shoot some heroin into my veins to calm me down.