Chapter Text
You have a father. He's taller than can be, tall enough that when you were younger he would put you on his shoulders and it would be like touching the heavens. He has chestnut brown hair, tan skin, and these red eyes and when he smiles he shows off his fangs just a tinsy bit, you always liked that best because he’d go ‘ Bleh Bleh Bleh ’ like a vampire then pretend to bite you as he tickled you. You love your Papa even if he isn't here as often. Even if he left you with your Tío Gabriel. Even if he didn't say anything when he left, even if he hasn't been the same since—
You don't have a mom. You vaguely remember her being there briefly and if you try hard enough, you can remember her in your dreams. This vague outline of some woman your Papa once loved enough to have you and—
Tío Gabriel says that your mother was sick. He also says she loved you very much and would wrap you in her arms and dance around the kitchen while she still could. “ Su mundo y mas .” he would say as he wraps his arms around you. (And if you close your eyes you can pretend it’s Papa saying it instead, “ Mi mundo y mas .” Pretend he’s still there, pretend he didn't abandon you. Pretend– Pretend– Pretend–) Tío Gabriel has holo recordings of her, not many but enough if you ever wanted to remember her. Maybe when you're older. Maybe when you're done grieving. If you ever are.
You have a sister. Had. She was younger than you but you loved her so. It was just you and Papa when she was born, then your duo became a trio and you loved her so. Small, baby Gabriella. Small baby Gabriella who would crawl in bed with you, who took her first steps towards you, who would squeal and giggle as you chased her around. Your baby sister Gabriella who shared Papa’s tan skin and his brown hair.
Gabriella who was Papa’s corazon , his very heart. To be fair, she was your’s too. The beating heart of the family O’Hara, the very thing keeping you all together ‘til the day she died.
It isn't fair, ya know. That she died on what was supposed to be a regular family outing to the mall for clothes for the incoming school year. She wanted new cleats for soccer and you had outgrown the school's old uniform, both of you had to get new backpacks and school supplies. Gabi wanted new hair ties and you wanted to try this new ice cream flavor the mall’s food court came out with. You’ve done this dozens of times, this was nothing new. So why–
You don’t remember much from that day. You can place the pain, all over your body, everywhere, inside your head and your ribs with every breath you took. You can remember the ringing in your ears and you can remember yelling. You remember watching the people around you cry and panic one second then in the next your holding Gabi.
You remember the blood.
You don't remember anything after that.
Everything is a blur after that. Mostly. There are moments you can remember with clarity like standing beside Gabriella’s casket and hearing the gut-wrenching sobs escape Papa. Tu papa who was meant to be bigger than life, an untouchable man who was now kneeling beside his youngest’s open casket sobbing out “Mi nina, mi mija. Mi corazon.”
One second you are standing in her room, watching him sob into one of her plushies, and the next you are both standing in front of Gabriel’s door. “It’ll be a few days. I just need time. Please–” He says.
It's not fair.
You know it's not because you can hear Tio Gabriel yell into his holo saying as such. You lay in this barren room, devoid of anything that feels familiar to you on a bed that fills too big for you. His voice echoes as he yells and rants into the call.
“It's not fair, Miguel! You know it isn't! This is your child, they need you to be here for them! You aren't the only one who’s grieving you know. I have work Miguel, a life! I can't stop everything just because you don't know how to cope!”
Tio Gabriel would call him often in the beginning but as days turn into weeks turns into months he stops calling as often.
“It's not fair, I have a life!“ He says.
You feel like a burden so you try to make yourself as small as possible. Make yourself as nonexistent as possible by keeping to your room mostly and cleaning up after yourself if you're in the common areas as you begin to realize Tio Gabriel doesn't know how to take care of you, doesn't know how to raise you.
So you raise yourself. You learn how to order groceries online and how to cook and how to dress a wound when you eventually end up burning yourself. You forge Miguel’s signatures on anything the school sends and on checks for necessities. You learn to memorize public transit and where the necessary shops are in the city. Everything Papa used to do, you learn to do as well.
LYLA helps a lot. She's there helping throughout all of it, on the good and bad days. LYLA is there on the nights you can't sleep, making nightlight holograms for you. And she helps out with new recipes and even there helping out with homework. She's even there listening to you rant about this girl in one of your classes, sitting on a hologram stool with her pretty dress and long hair. You tell LYLA everything and anything. It feels like she's the only thing that hasn't changed, the one constant semi-stable thing you have since the accident.
As months turn into a year, she's there helping you raise yourself. On a routine system update, she logs off bidding you goodnight with an almost-there kiss on your forehead. You want her to stay, it's almost the year anniversary of the Accident and you want the comfort of the gold glow of her hologram to keep you company throughout the night but the system update can’t be avoided.
So, she logs off for the night and by morning you are being woken by her soft words. Everything is normal, except it isnt.
Her design has changed, it’s different. It’s changed.
You barely make it to the bathroom in time before you get sick when the realization dawns on you.
‘I helped make that design with Gabi.’ the memory comes unwelcomed with a bitter taste in your mouth and a fresh wave of pain in your chest accompanied by a cascade of tears.
It’s a memory of happier times before everything changed and went to shit. A time when you would draw whatever Gabi want so she could color it, a time when you could put butterfly clips on Miguel’s hair and he'd chase you and Gabi around for it.
You sob for the first time in months, hidden in one of your Tio Gabriel’s bathrooms. LYLA is just outside the door, calling out to you and asking if you need assistance if you need her to call your uncle. You yell at her to go away. She does.
It is the year anniversary of Gabriella’s death. A year since your sister, just age 7, died in an explosion while at the mall while out with you and your father. A year since your father abandoned you at the front door of your uncle’s condo. A year since he turned away from you and left without even saying goodbye. A year since you lost it all.
And now you've lost your best friend, the closest thing you had as a reminder of a better time. Of happier times when you still had a family. Because how are meant to look at her? The now constant reminder of what was lost, of what you had?
Pressing your forehead against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, you let your sobs wreck your body, you let your voice go hoarse as you wrap your arms around yourself. As if it would keep all this hurt inside you, a pale imitation of a once-had comfort. You cry for what once was, what once existed. You cry for what you no longer have. You are your only comfort.
You had a mother, you had a sister, you had LYLA.
You have your Uncle Gabriel for what little he is around.
You aren’t sure if you still have a father.