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

Chapter 4 - Morning

I open my eyes and look around the room. Everything is perfect. All my things are staying exactly where I left them, but the only addition to the usual background is the man who's sleeping on the couch.
It was quite painful for my back to sleep in the armchair, but last night when I went out of the shower and saw him on the couch, I couldn't leave him alone, so I decided to remain in living room too.
Now, the sun is entering through the drapes, creating holes of light in the room. I can see the dust dancing in the air, and for some strange reason, I feel as free as the tiny particles floating around the room.
All the times I was waking up I used to be so tired, agitated and sick of everything around me, but not today.
I feel a sense of purpose and I feel that I can do anything.
It's probably so weird that I needed an injured stranger to threaten me with a gun to rediscover my true inner power, but I guess it is what it is. "The end justifies the means" like Machiavelli used to say, and I think there's no better line to describe the entire situation.
He seems so peaceful when he's sleeping, and I take a few moments to look at him better. The mud mixed with dried blood from his long curly hair, makes me think that he's been on the run for quite a while.
I see how his arms and abdomen are marked with scars. I wish I could touch them, but I'm too scared. What if he'll wake up now and he'll catch me staring at him, or worse, touching him? I can't say that the thought of drawing lines around his scars with my fingers leaves me too easily.
I get off of my improvised bed, careful not to make too much noise and wake him up, and I go to the kitchen. In a few minutes, some eggs and bacon are being fried in the pan, while I turn on the coffee machine. It's been months since I had breakfast at home, because, usually, I was too disgusted by my own loneliness to be able to stay and eat.
In almost a year, all my nights were marked by rough sex, drugs and alcohol, only to end up in a profound feeling of disappointment in the morning when, before waking up, I was always being dumped without a word from my lovers.
I hear him moving on the couch, and I think he'll wake up soon. One after the other, this guy is the only one who stayed. Well, until now. Analyzing the situation better, my chances to be alone next week on this time are huge.
Ever since it begun, this story has been leading me nowhere. He just needed some help with his wounds and not to be caught up by the police, or by whoever he was running from. It wasn't like we were dating or something.
When the eggs are done, I put them in two plates, one for him and one for me, same with the coffee too. I realize that it's the first time in my life when I'm making breakfast for two. I smile.
I know this story is probably something half made up by my mind. I guess not even a quarter of my happy ending scenarios that I'm playing in my head are actually going to happen. I prefer to live in my imagination as long as possible instead of facing the harsh reality.
"Morning!" I say when I put the cup of coffee on the table next to him.
He's still not completely awake, but it seems like the smell of the hot liquid brings him back to reality way faster than I expected.
"Good morning!" he replies a bit surprised.
I'm not sure if he's shocked by the fact that I made him breakfast, or that he hasn't woken up in a living room full of cops. I guess the wisest thing for now is to think it's a bit of both.
He wants to take the cup, but my hand stops him, pushing him back on the pillows. I don't care who he is, or if he's gonna leave me or not, I don't want anything bad to happen to him as long as he's staying here.
"Don't force yourself. You've been through a lot." I say, and offer him the cup.
"Thanks" he says smiling.
I take a few sips of coffee too, then I go back to the kitchen to get the plates with eggs. When he sees them, it's like watching a kid receiving gifts on Christmas Day. He takes the plate from my hands, and, in the next moment, he's chewing the food a bit too loud for my taste.
"I'm sorry!" he says embarrassed when he realized what he was doing. "I haven't eaten anything in a while."
"It's okay, just take it easy." I smile.
I wonder what Juan has been through these couple of days. For sure it's not my business, but neither to help him and feed him it is. So, I risk and ask the question that's staying on the tip of my tongue ever since I met him:
"What were you doing?"
He's confused at first and tries to act like he hasn't heard my question.
"These eggs are so good!"
That was the most desperate attempt to distract me since I know how bad I can cook.
"Juan..."
When he looks at me, all I see is a sort of guilt mixed with pain in those emerald green eyes.
"You know, if I'll tell you, things will change." he's a bit hesitant.
"Oh, come on!" I say rolling my eyes. "It's not like they haven't changed already. I mean, look! Do you think things are the same for me? Goddamnit, Juan. I just helped you by taking out a bullet from your leg after you threatened me with a gun. I let you sleep in my damn living room, while I had countless hours to call for help. Do you think this won't count when the police will interrogate me?"
"You can tell them I held you at gunpoint the entire time, they don't have to know everything." he replies.
"Oh, really?" I say irritated. "That's how you're gonna play it, huh?"
He looks puzzled, like I just punched him in the face and he has no idea what to do.
"Play what? Silene, can't you see? Isn't it obvious enough?" Juan asks a bit exasperated.
"What?" I ask confused.
"Who I am and what I do. Do I look like the typical 9 am to 5 pm worker to you?" there's a hint of irony in his tone.
"Now you make me stupid!" I snap.
"Really? That's what you think?" he sounds slightly disappointed.
I don't want to reply to him anymore, so I just take a seat on the armchair and continue to eat in silence.
I never thought that there's going to be a point in my life when I'll end up staying upset on the attacker that I took in my house and who doesn't want to tell me the most obvious thing in the world — that he's a criminal.
My behavior is probably childish, but nothing can make me change my mind. I want to know at least his story, how he ended in my building's hallway, and what he's gonna do after he'll feel better. The voices in my head are replying fast to the last question: of course he won't stay with you, silly. I try to ignore them as much as possible.
When he finishes everything from the plate, he bends over the couch and puts it on the floor without making any noise.
I continue to ignore him, especially because I was feeling how he's watching me, like his gaze is piercing through the layers of flesh and he can see straight into my soul. I don't like this sensation, as I never liked to talk about myself or my feelings too much. Most of the times when I was starting to do this, I was ending up in pieces sooner or later, because, until now, all the people I had the courage to let in did everything they could to disappoint me.
"I was running away." his voice finally pierces the awkward silence that was floating in the air. "Some guys from my gang were looking for me the night of the attack. They got me, but they had almost no time to torture me, because the police bursted in and we all had to run. What I'm usually doing? Robberies, that's what I do. I enter in stores from where normal people like you are shopping. I put the gun to the head of the employees, I threaten them to give me the money, and then I run. It always depends. Sometimes, I'm holding hostages at gunpoint while the others are emptying the store, other times I beat the guards till they pass out. There are times when I have to shoot in the direction of a hostage so they won't do something stupid and ruin the plan. It depends, it always depends on the situation. I robbed everything, from bars to jewelry stores. So yeah, that's what I do."
I'm not shocked by his answer, I'm only pleasantly surprised that he told me.
"Have you ever killed anyone?" I ask a bit concerned.
"I never killed innocent people." he says looking down.
I guess I should be happy with this answer, but, in a way, I'm not. This stranger makes me want to know more about him, who he killed and why. There are so many questions, but I resume myself to asking him just the most important one for now:
"Why did the guys from your gang want you?"
"They think that I stole a huge amount of money from the last robbery and killed someone from the gang." he replies.
"And you did?" I ask, even if somehow I'm sure of the answer.
"No." he looks sad in a way. "The guy who died was my friend. I could've never done anything to him, not even if he would've turned me in to the cops. He was found with a bullet in his head, and the first person they thought about was me."
"I'm sorry." I say. "I believe you."
He looks at me and tries to smile, but it's so much sadness in his eyes and I know what I have to do, even if, probably, anyone would say it's stupid.
I get up and leave the plate on the chair, then I go to him. I take a seat on the floor, next to the couch, and look him in the eyes.
"I know it's not easy to lose someone. Especially someone close to you. But, we can't bring them back, you know." I'm so bad at comforting people, but I'm trying to do my best. "Also, I know how it is to be blamed for something that you didn't do, and, no matter what you say, they'll never believe you. I lived that almost everyday while I was still with my mother and, even now, I have to take the blame for stuff that I don't even know about. I guess we can't compare. I have a shitty job singing in a bar for some money while you..."
"While me what, Silene? While I'm a thief? While I almost kill people, destroy their businesses, their lives?"
He's angry and I'm not sure if on me or on himself, but I can't shut up.
"While you're free." I say with my voice shaking. "While you're free to go wherever you want and do what you want. You don't have to worry that the landlord will come after the rent, or that you have bills to pay or food in your fridge. You can travel the world, you can be who you want to be. You're not stuck in a shitty place living in fear that one day, if something happens, if you get sick for too long, and you won't be able to go to work for a while, you won't have the money to afford to pay for that shit place anymore and you'll be kicked out. This is how I lived and there's no fucking way I'm going back home!"
His hand is on my shoulder, but I'm not bothered at all.
"I'm sorry." he says and I know he's genuine about it. "I don't wanna make you feel bad. You had a hard life, and I promise you that I won't forget what you did for me."
Obviously he's going to leave me, that's what they all say, and the next morning when you wake up, the bed is empty and you'll never see them again. I'm so sick of people using me like this.
"Maybe, in a few months, if things will settle, I'll be able to pay you back for..." he continues, but I already heard enough.
"I don't want anything from you or anyone else. Just leave, like they all do! The door's right there, I'll unlock it for you. Don't wait till the morning, at least be a man with enough balls to say bye, goddamnit!" I scream, and he's so confused that all I can manage to say is a whispered "sorry".
"I can barely walk." he replies.
"This is the lamest excuse I've ever heard in my entire life!" I scream. "But when you will? When you'll finish using me, what are you gonna do?"
"You know that I have to go. I can't just sit here and talk about our lives like we're on a date while both the police and the people from my gang are after me. What do you want me to do?" he asks.
That's a good question. I'm feeling a bit hurt for what he told me about the "date", but I guess he had the right to say it after I screamed at him.
I have no idea what I should reply to this, because I don't know what I want to do with my life. All I know is that I'm sick of my old life, I'm sick of myself and the same routine, I'm sick of staying in bed at night and crying until I fall asleep, I'm sick of the past and I can't say I'm okay with the present.
My mother used to say that I'll never be a decent person. I've been expelled from five schools and I heard almost the same thing every time: "she just can't follow the rules, she'll never be able to integrate in the society." And I can't contradict anyone, because they're right. I can't and I hate to live by following rules. I was always problematic and predisposed to do dumb stuff. I guess it's in my nature. I'll never be sure what I want for real, but in this very moment, I might have at least a word for it. I want to be free. I want to escape this vicious cycle that I'm spinning into and make myself a new life. I don't care if it's good or bad, and I don't give a shit about what others think. I want to live by my own rules.
"I wanna come with you." I say.
"Silene..." he's shocked. "You know, the life I'm living is not as free as you imagine. I'm always on the run, and, as you can see, always at risk. I can't take you with me. The gang has rules, I can't just bring a new member."
"The same gang that accused you for a thing you didn't do?" I say harshly.
He looks at me unable to reply. I guess I'm not the only one realizing things right now. Probably, these days have been hard for him too, and he hadn't had the time to stay and analyze everything that happened.
"I'm parallel with your world, but Juan, I hope you're not that stupid to go back to that gang." I say.
"No, I won't." he replies.
"I'm a fast learner, I'll get things immediately. I can help you with your stuff. I'm still not accused of anything, the police is not looking for me. Maybe I can do something useful." I try to present him the advantages.
"You won't be out of the radar for too long. This is how I started too, and look at me now. And no, there's no way I'm letting you destroy your life. You don't realize it, and I know it can be quite hard, but trust me, your life now is way better than mine." he tries to convince me.
"You don't know shit about me! You don't know how it is to live like you're nothing. You don't know how hard it is to have your dignity trashed by everyone with every occasion. You have no idea how it is to come home and stay and just wait for the day you'll die. Sometimes, I'm praying for it to come faster, Juan, so that I won't have to live in this misery anymore. You might be an outlaw, but I'm forsaken by the society. I couldn't integrate in any system, I couldn't get a decent job or finish school. I ended up singing in bars and, sometimes, praying that guys like you will come there and fucking shoot me because, let me tell you something, until last night I never ever in my life felt useful. Everything that I did, people were telling me I'm doing it wrong. I've been told that I'm a mistake, that I shouldn't have been born. I left home because my mother wanted to force me to get married so that I can do something with my life and move out, so she won't have to work that much to sustain both of us. Tell me how's my life better than yours when I have to fight in the street with people who want to rape me when I come back from work at night? Tell me, Juan, what you'd do? Put yourself in my shoes and tell me if you wouldn't want to escape this misery. Maybe you see a life of crimes bad for me, but I'll tell you what I really want. I want to live. I want to feel something other than numbness, pain or guilt that I'm alive."
He looks at me puzzled, not knowing what to say.
"Let me come with you. I won't disappoint you. I'll try to do my best and be useful. Please." I almost beg him.
He looks at me like he's analyzing me head to toes, then closes his eyes and finally sighs.
"I'll think about it."
"Thank you!" I say, and, in the next second, I'm hugging his arm.
He can't keep his laugh, but in a few seconds he's looking really serious.
"I just want to tell you something, and I want you to be aware of it. Once you'll come with me, there's no turning back."
"I know." I say smiling. "That's exactly what I want."