Me Llamo Tokio (My Name Is Tokyo) - A Money Heist Prequel

Chapter 1 - Beginnings

Loneliness. The first thing that comes to embrace me as I lay down in bed at night. A long forgotten feeling of a touch is carrying its last memories over my naked body.
I take a quick look around the room, hoping that someone or something managed to crawl in here. There's nothing else but the black veil of the night covering me, keeping me safe from the exterior world.
"Hello, darkness, my dear friend. How much I've missed you!" I whisper, and even the sound of my voice feels lonely as it leaves my mouth.
There's nothing left to do here other than dying, and I'm not planning to do that. Not yet. Not like this.
My eyes are following the contour of the shadows that are forming on the ceiling. It's just a huge ocean of black with hints of grey and nothing more.
But, in the blink of an eye, a dead mass of nothing can be metamorphosed into an agitated ocean of possibilities. Because my blood was running through my veins exactly like the waves.
Unstoppable. This is the word which describes best how I'm feeling in that very moment — the moment when I decide to get out of the bed.
A shiver goes down my spine as my feet get in contact with the cold floor, but I keep on walking. I turn on the lights, only to see clearer the dirty room of my apartment.
I grab my phone and open it, just to find another voicemail from my mother popping up on the screen. It's been a few months ever since I last called her.
I take a deep breath, trying to eliminate this thought out of my mind, and I jump in the shower. The cold water seems to be a good remedy for a conscience filled with guilt, but as soon as I'm out, it feels like everything starts over as if nothing happened.
Ten years ago, I fled from home, leaving my mother only a note that said: "I don't think I can live like this anymore. I'm going to look for what life has for me elsewhere, far from this soulless place. - Silene". And that was it. No goodbyes, nothing. I called her one week after and tried to calm her, and I kept calling from time to time to see how she's doing, but never went back.
I was sick of everything that my old home represented. Sick of my mother trying to implement her opinions about life on me, sick of being judged for who I am or for who I wanted to be.
When I first introduced her to the idea that I want to be a singer, she laughed like I was telling her the best joke in the world. After she saw that I was serious about it, there came the mockery, the arguments and, finally, the first hit. According to her, this job will never allow me to afford anything. I can't say she was completely wrong, but who thinks that they can stand in front of a teenager and her dreams, is definitely making the biggest mistake of their life.
I take a look in the mirror. My face is still having some remains of last night's makeup. I wash it fast, then I look in the mirror again. It's just me now, and nothing else. A tired face. Eyes full of tears. A dead attempt of a smile.
My life wasn't easy at all after I left home. I started what I thought would be my amazing career by wiping tables at a bar from Friday to Sunday, in exchange for a few euros that weren't even covering half of my rent. So, I got job after job, until I was coming back home exhausted and collapsing on the bed, falling asleep in the blink of an eye, only to wake up the next day to begin again. But, last year was my lucky year, when a new jazz club opened and they were looking for singers. I went there and, luckily, no one else showed up, so I got the job. Ever since then, my life started to improve.
There was only one thing left: the loneliness. No amount of money could've covered the huge gap in my soul.
My bed was almost never empty. I was sleeping with a lot of men and women, thinking that, maybe, one of them might be my soulmate, only to discover that in the morning, or, anyway, in a few days they were disappearing like they were part of a spell.
I don't know if being dumped is worse than being alone. One thing's for sure, both are crushing your soul in such a deep way that you're gonna need a few bottles of alcohol to get over it.
I comb my hair fast, and start putting on some makeup. I take a quick look at the clock. Two in the morning, there's still time to go to a club.
I dress up quickly and stash some money in a bag, then I put my shoes on and leave the apartment, slamming the door after me.
I don't care what will happen after. I just want to destroy this feeling of being lonely, at least for a short amount of time.
In a weird way, I was feeling a sort of boost of energy combined with the excitement that, in a few minutes, I'm gonna numb my feelings at the nearest club.
It's even funny how sometimes the universe has its twisted ways of ruining your plans, or, maybe, who knows, even your future.
When I have just one step left till the front door of the building, I stop all of a sudden and cover my mouth to block the scream coming out of my throat.
My bag hits the ground as my hands start shaking.
The almost dying man standing in a pool of blood in the middle of the hallway is looking at me like I'm his last hope.