My name is Lucia but you can call my Amy. I’ve always been afraid of the dark until yesterday, when it happened. It happened so suddenly. I’m still trying to figure out what really happened. I was scared for one second, literally one second but then, boom. It was like my guardian angel had suddenly woken from his life-long coma.

I’m no loser but I live in one of those long streets in Eudorian. My best friend is my cardboard box in which I sleep when I’m tired. Sometimes I get visitors, actually, I get visitors every day. Bugs, strange cats, other homeless people who need nothing but a light for their cigarettes.

I’m happy because I have enaugh fingers, my hair is good, probably because I’ve never in my life, as far as I know, washed it. I’ve bathed in the sea every day since I came to the city. When I was younger I lived in a treehouse which my foster parent’s kids made for themselves. Technically they weren’t my foster family.

One time when I was chased by some animal that looked angry and hungry, I climbed up the tree and boom. Before I knew I was in someone’s else’s clothes, in someones elses bed, I must have lost my conscious after all the running. I had never slept in a bed and I didn’t like it. The clothes were pretty and I kept them. I ate with them every day for few years but each night I crawled out the window and climbed up the tree to sleep there. The treehouse was my place, my peace. There I was safe.

Then someone started an open fire nearby in the woods and unfortunately it was a windy night so the fire spread too quickly for the fire department people to handle. My tree house burned to the ground and so did the house of my foster family. They didn’t make it. I managed to escape before the police got there. I don’t want no one to have control over me. I’m thirty years old and I’ve never ever lived my life other ways and I don’t feel like changing it. I like this way of living. My foster family tried to teach me to talk but I refused. I was afraid. Even though I knew how to talk, I’m even capable of reading and writing. I taught myself so I always knew what they were talking about. One night I overheard my foster parents talk about some papers, some form of adoption. They wanted to help me gain a “better” life, get an education and so on but I didn’t want that. I don’t need it. I’ve never needed it. Because there were no forms of my being a life there was no person missing when I went away after the massive fire.

I just kept walking for three weeks and I had no idea where I was going or where I’d end up. I like not knowing, well, some stuff.

My name is neither Lucia nor Amy, I’ve just always wanted to say this sentence and since I don’t want people to talk to me I’ve never said this sentence out loud before in my life. I’ve talked to some cats and few rats but they wouldn’t understand so why bother. Oh, now I remember. I have said it to a dolphin I met once when I was swimming in the ocean one quiet morning. He told me his name was Paul. Yeah, I was a little bit confused at first. Paul the dolphin but then I realised that he probably had the same longing as I with my “my name is Lucia but you can call my Amy” sentence. He’s more like a Marcus kind of dolphin.

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