Find me

8.

I never called the police.

Simply because I didn't dare.

That would have guaranteed me a place in the newspaper considering the magnitude of the personality I was dealing with and I worried it might give away my whereabouts.

He came back to training two days later. It was gut-wrenching watching him walk so free and it took a lot of self constraint to not stab him with a knife or push him in front of a truck. Everytime I saw him, I felt the pain emerge in my core and it only reminded me of my helplessness against this world.

I was a vulnerable prey in a new country with nobody to look after me. Nobody to worry if I didn't come home. Nobody on my emergency contact. Nobody to cry over my death.

It was heartbreaking.

He ignored me. He avoided me. Didn't cross my path. Didn't glance at all. He acted like I never existed. And my work had nothing to do with him for quite a while which meant that he had specifically asked for not to be dealt by me ever.

I stopped talking to people after coming back. I avoided all sorts of human contact at Camp Nou other than what my work required.

I lived in the shadows, if you will. And even gave up on my educational aspirations for a while. It just seemed like a distant dream. Because I was barely able to afford a life, how the hell would I afford tuition fees, considering I got into the program. That required hard work but I was more inclined towards survival those days.

Then one day, I discovered something. I was walking down a corridor of Ciutat Esportiva and I wasn't looking my way. I don't remember why I was walking so fast. Either I was too upset or I was too late.

I banged straight into Neymar. Once I recovered from the impulse, I noticed the coffee which he had been holding had spilt all over his hand and a part of his forearm. And I knew it was boiling hot because a few droplets had flown my way. Out of reflex really, I grabbed his arm to check the damage or wipe the coffee off with my scarf but in another blink, I felt a backward jerk.

I couldn't believe it.

That he could do that.

Treat me like that. Just push me like dirt.

I looked into his eyes after quite a long while. And I could see clearly, the deception covered by an innocent shade of green. It was all there.

The coldness.

The bitterness.

But there was another emotion I couldn't quite figure out. An emotion I had noticed for the very first time. It was barely traceable and yet formed the basic layer of his orbs. His demonous deceptive orbs.

I felt every taped-together emotion in my heart being assaulted as seconds passed. He gave me a glance of pure hatred and scorn that virtually buried me alive under the concrete which we stood upon. That he had the shame to feel so, was beyond me.

And then he just disappeared towards the medical block.

He had a debatable hatred towards me which I couldn't comprehend.

Cruel he was.

Really cruel.

I couldn't stop myself from feeling gutted and next came the tears gushing down for no specific reason really.

It was one of the lowest points in my life. It seemed as if with each day, I lost a part of me. As if I was slowly disappearing into nothingness. I felt like a waste of flesh. I felt weaker and weaker losing my presence.

I was becoming a nothing. Or I already was. It was all downhill since Neymar. He had made me realize that I didn't matter. That I was just skin and bones.

Its astonishing what loneliness can do to you.

When I eventually loitered into the medical rooms, the first thing I felt was cold. Really cold. The heat of my dried up tears was vanishing.

The next second, I saw him. He was looking straight at me, sitting on one of the beds. There was white medicine on his hand and he had to keep it parallel to the ground.

A part of me felt truly guilty.

But I turned my way before it could drown me.

"You're crying." Someone appeared in front of me and said.

I looked up to find Marc.

"No, I'm sensitive to cold wind. Makes my eyes water." I lied.

He must have caught up on my lying because he looked at me a different way.

"What is wrong?" He asked.

I said 'nothing'.

"Are you upset because of Neymar?"

"No."

"There's some friction, isn't there? Tell me if he troubles you, I'll fix him." He said.

I didn't answer and just left politely.

***

I woke up in the middle of the night scared shitless. I dreamt of being raped by a random person off the street. It was my third such dream since the real thing. I again found myself drowning in tears. It was another sleepless night.

I knew I was approaching my limit. I would burst soon enough.

Next morning, I called the right person.

Eduardo.

My other brother. Eduardo lived in Bilbao. Even though he was a bit too much for me to take he was the only option. Because I just needed anyone.

At first I thought I'd have to beg him to come but he surprisingly agreed soon. He came the following evening briefly after I walked home from work.

"Mira, what have you done to yourself?" He asked.

"I don't know." I mumbled. He realized I was breaking. And engulfed me in a hug I could only dare to dream of.

"Does anyone know you're here?" He asked while I didn't stop the moisture glazing my eyes.

"No, Eduardo."

"Hey, don't worry, okay? Why don't you come with me? This city is a hard place to live, to survive." He offered.

"I have a job here. I just need for you to stay for a day or two because it was getting a little harder. But I'm gonna be okay here." I explained, not really believing myself.

"It was a wrong decision, Mira. Coming here. You have to go back eventually. You're not strong enough."

"Maybe. But going back is not an option."

"Why'd you leave?"

"The same reason you did."

"What about Damien?"

"I left him."

I felt something unknotting itself whilst I talked to him. I kind of wanted him to know where I was. Just someone to know where to look for me. Someone who won't ever ring up home.

And that was Eduardo for me. He was one rebellious kid. He didn't let Dad chain him down and was admiringly brave to go out there and fend for himself. But he hurt Mom along the way breaking her heart. And that was why I developed a coldness to him. But when I did the exact same thing, I realized why he did what he did.

There's always a cost you have to pay when you go after what you want. He paid it while leaving. I was paying it now.

*****