Chapter One

Hello and welcome to the eighteenth year of my feigned existence. My name is Luisa; named after our cat Luis who died when I was eight, which is probably the reason why I am nocturnal. No, I'm neither nocturnal nor normal. I just prefer staying up at night. In fact, I like it because I feel safer is one, and not hearing Jean making all sorts of obscene moans is another. One day my uncle had to throw Jean into my room when my aunt came home way earlier than usual. My choices were limited. It was either I stay inside the room with Jean and be awkward with her or I go get some fresh air, if there's such thing, and meet a couple of friends. For some weird reason, I didn't mind her being alone in my room. What she should do to get out from there was her problem.
Right after I laid eyes on the outside world, I saw my aunt storming right into the kitchen. Our eyes met for a millisecond before she rolled her eyes off me.
“I’m not allowed to work beyond eight hours anymore. It's either you find a job or you throw Luisa out!" she said before she can even swallow the slice of soufflé cheesecake she just stuffed into her mouth.
"You know you can’t throw her out. The insurance money she’s getting is what’s paying for this apartment" replied Uncle Tim who was now half-dressed.
My aunt inched towards him "Then find a job" she whispered into his ear in a sarcastic tone.
I opted not to listen to the rest of their conversation, or rather, argument. So I headed straight to Gem Park, which is around 7 blocks away. It’s not really called Gem Park. It’s a nameless park. I started calling it Gem Park after I saw an old vandalism saying ‘Gem was here’ in bold letters. Why Gem seemed to be so excited to have stepped a foot on that park remains a mystery to me. It’s an abandoned park with nothing but a rusty swing and muddy ground. But I prefer it that way, and probably Gem too. I planned to go home, if I can even call that home, before midnight. One of the house rules is "lights off at ten" which is the reason why I decided to go home at around eleven. It was now quarter to ten when one of my friends showed up. By now, you've already probably guessed that this friend of mine likes to play at night. I named it Louie regardless of its gender, but I assumed it is a he. I like being around with tamed, non-human creatures because from their perspective, I am probably a genius. I mean, I can talk and Louie can just meow. But if Louie could read this, I am as sure as eggs are eggs it would disagree.
"Just because you can talk doesn't mean you're superior" I can imagine it yelling at my face while snapping its fingers (claws?) in a Z form.
I can't blame them. And to be completely honest, I couldn't agree more to Louie, or myself since I just made that up. I sometimes even imagine the world with nobody being able to talk. Yeah, that would be perilous. A depressed wife would then simply slit her polygamous husband's throat instead of the traditional 'get the hell out of my house' and ‘fuck you’ lines. Okay, that was an exaggeration. I can probably play god and give exceptions to those who badly needs to get it out or to people who deserve to talk. Like the boy I used to sit next to in Algebra class before I dropped out. He didn’t talk to me that often, but every time he did, I had always found myself lost. His words were almost too good to be true. They are the type of words that dig into the roots; deep and deadly. People like him cause my confusion to grow even more. But I digress.
It was now past midnight, the only time I love being home. No, love would be an understatement. If there’s a word that describes how something makes you feel being connected to the outer space as you watch the stars through your window without anyone reminding you of who you are supposed to be, then feel free to scratch the preceding clause and replace it with that word. With that being said, I decided to go back to one of the thousands world I have.
As I was walking home, I saw a tall, familiar silhouette on a spotlight, the lights from the vending machine acting as its light. I heard something pop so I was sure this person just bought a soda from that vending machine. As I got nearer, I figured it was Jean. Her beige coat complimented perfectly to her height. Her now-worn-down chestnut brown hair swayed along the evening breeze. Her long and defined nose was still in place. I was surprisingly relieved that she got out from our house in one piece. I wanted to say hi. Not because I wanted to befriend her but because I owed her an apology for abandoning her. Of course she was in no way under my responsibility. I just needed an excuse. There was something in her eyes that expressed pain, ambiguity and relentlessness, and that was enough to adhere to my own curiosity. But before I could even think for an opening line, she walked into my direction.
“How can you put up with those kinds of people?” she asked hastily.
I don’t know what she overheard after I left but it felt like she was angry and was asking for a prompt answer.
“They are my only family” I replied reluctantly.
She was now pushing my wheelchair to the direction where I just came from. 
“What does family mean to you?” She asked in an almost motherly way.
It was soothing to my ear. It was awkwardly blatant in its most subtle way. I don’t even know why I didn't hesitate to go with her.
I did not answer her question. Instead, I acted insecure and childish. “Don’t you see this? I have nowhere else to go.” I said in a stronger tone pointing to my wheelchair.
“Well, that’s a shame. You think you are disabled?” she asked rhetorically.
“Anyone with clear eyesight, or anyone with poor eyesight aided with eyeglasses can tell” I answered anyway.
Her face did not show any expression of surprise.“Do you think that your physical disability is worse than a person who is incapable to love?” she smiled half way.
I was speechless. It struck me like a lightning bolt on a hot summer day. It was unexpected. I wanted to hear more. She lit a cigarette and started to blow squalid clouds of breaths and never said a word. She might have also felt my pain, ambiguity and relentlessness. There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask her. Why is she sticking up with someone like Uncle Tim? Does she have a family? What is she planning to do with her life? Then I asked myself the same questions, but I did not have answers. Not just yet. Afraid that she might throw the same questions, I let it go.  As for her, I will never know why she sat quiet the whole time. So we ended up just sitting next to each other until the first light. We talked about nothing. She was solitary in her own way, and I was too, and that was enough to make me feel that in that space, in that breath, and in that blink, I had not one sorrow, just sanity and solace.

<3 Manganese