YZAGUIRRE, Miki S.

[Deleted]

MIKI SAVANNAH YZAGUIRRE

NICKNAMES: N/A
AGE & BIRTHDAY: 23 (05/14/1990)
HEIGHT: 5'2''
HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, NY
RESIDENCE Temporarily an apartment in Venice, CA
PROFESSION: Bartender/Photographer
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

FATHER: Dean Raske (45, Inpatient)
MOTHER: Liora Yzaguirre (MIA, Assumed Deceased)
SIBLINGS: Mela Yzaguirre (Deceased)
EXTENDED: Angela Giovanelli (42, Aunt)
Anthony Giovanelli (16, Cousin)
Lea Giovanelli (26, Cousin)
OTHER: N/A

"First woman down was your mother, she did condone how you behave. All you could see was your father, his disrespect was in her face. Next woman down was your sister, her silence did corroborate. She took her cues from the climate and never knew another way. "

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

Dark nights. Empty phrases. Loud voices. Hatred. There was a darkness in my house like Hell's mouth had opened in our living room. Never a sane moment, I never got to be the child I was supposed to be. To be happy and excited there only caused you more misery. My father created ruin wherever he went, he left lives destroyed in his wake, and he never should have been allowed to start a family. No one quite understands how cruel a human being can be until they've got you by their teeth, in a choke hold, making you wish you never met them. And there is a kind of cruelty that no one should knowingly inflict on innocents such as my sister and I - my mother was no saint, but she didn't deserve it either. My father was the darkness that swallowed everything that gave me joy with a hungry grin and hard eyes on a handsome face that made you wish he would change. Not all ugly people are ugly on the outside and that's the false pretense they give with sweet words and charming smiles they can convince anyone that they are there for the good things in life. I can't understand why my father even married my mother let alone had kids with her. He hated her from the very start. They were both irresponsible and volatile adults and, perhaps, it was my fault for not being aware enough. Even with enough common knowledge to know it wasn't my fault, I still blame myself. I was three when my mother disappeared from my life forever, but it stings like a fresh wound whenever the word 'mother' is mentioned. Could I consider her one if she gave up on me before I could comprehend? That meant she couldn't have loved us, right? So many questions for the woman I barely knew. Perhaps it was because of the memories I still clung to, the last thread of evidence that she had been there once upon a time. I remember her scent like soft lavender and her tired but light laugh, like a wisp of air from those rosy lips. I remember gentle bedtime kisses and her dark hair in my face, but her face is always gone in my dreams. She is the faceless woman, a ghost in the fog. She was the first in a long list of people who I held on to tightly only for them to let go. She was the thing I would have clung to the most, but wasn't important enough for her to cling back.

It's funny. My father didn't tell me about my sister's death until I finally asked where she had gone - it had been a week. My sister was always in and out of the house, trying to keep away from the turbulent life we were chained to, so her being gone was nothing surprising. She would always check in with me a couple times out of the week, however, and when she didn't I believed she had found something better than this poor excuse for a family and left for good and, technically, she had. 'Oh, yeah. She's dead.' was his response when I timidly asked him where my sister was. My heart ripped to shreds, devastated, inconsolable. For day I didn't sleep, wouldn't eat, and end up in the dark in my room rocking back and forth. At sixteen I wasn't ready to be on my own, wasn't ready to have lost the last person that cared about me, the last person that shared my blood that I could trust and love unconditionally. My father proclaiming he was moving and for me to 'find my own way' was at least second on a list of the worst things he'd said to me. So at sixteen years old I was on the street, confused, pretending I was perfectly fine to the people I called friends, but slipping into a shelter on the cold nights. 

Being apart of a gang wasn't something I imagined when I thought of my life's progression, not even in the darkest of my lonely nights. I think I met Luiz one day in the park. He bummed a cigarette off of me and that sparked a conversation, no pun intended. He was your regular boy save the tattoos and the fact that he could probably break your face in ten places in a fight. We talked for a while that day, him ending it with me reminding him of his sister, Maria, before he stomped out his cigarette, pulled his hood up, and moved on. Running into one another at the park became a regular thing between he and I and, to be honest, I enjoyed the company. No one asking me intrusive questions about my past, just someone to sit and watch the passing people with. Eventually, we got to that subject and, reluctantly, I divulged in him my life before this. He watched me with his brown eyes fully on me, intense, milking every word that slipped past my lips while I sit there annoyed but relieved. When I'd finished, he actually hugged me, and without letting me have a choice he told me I'd be staying with him. Staying with Luiz, however, became staying with Luiz and his gang and eventually, it went from Luiz and me to Luiz, me, and the gang. You can basically assume from there and you would probably be 90% correct. I fell in love with Luiz like a young girl would and he had me completely enthralled by the time I'd turned eighteen. I believed he loved me, he spoke it so, but with never having been told that I was loved I let it melt into me so easily that I never questioned him. It cost me. 

I racked up a nice little record over time doing things I had no business doing, getting into fights, and being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't know what else to do or where else to go so I went with the masses. However, I found out the masses weren't with me when I got arrested and ended up going to jail sorely based on my records build up. They believed I needed to 'take some time to think' or that's what the smart-ass judge said before she slammed her gravel down. I think Luiz came to visit me one time when I was doing time and at the end of that conversation he told me they were 'waiting for me', but I got the sense he was just speaking a line that he spoke to all of the people he had gotten locked up. He never visited me again which only confirmed my earlier suspicions and later, I heard he had gotten a new girlfriend and they had a kid and was expecting another. I gave up on that life like most people do while  pacing behind bars like a caged animal ; decided I would never speak of any of it again. I think the naive girl that wanted someone to love her died in that cell. During my time away a member of my mother's side of the family had gotten in contact with me, sending me letters. An Aunt Ange who was as he wrote 'very sorry for my mother's failure in parenting and the fact that I was all alone.' I wrote back to her once telling her not to write me again and never mention my mother and the letters stopped but the day of my release she was there, signing that hers was going to be my residence while I was on probation and for the life of me I couldn't protest. I wanted a nice bed and a nice shower and she was offering it to me. I think i can call her my Guardian Angel because she became that light at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel for me. She's why I'm a better person now and why I don't let the past consume me anymore. I would've never moved on from New York and all the troubles it caused me. As a way to tell my story, I started taking pictures and filming things, holding every moment precious to me though it turned out to be an actual raw talent. I moved to California temporarily a couple of months ago for a vacation of sorts and to add new photos to my portfolio.  It's nice, but New York's home and I"m not sure if I'll stay here or not. Can't say I've got a care in the world now. A few years ago my father got diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers, he can't remember most things, and I think seeing him in that state and knowing he doesn't know me makes it easier to visit him. 

ALIAS: Cailyn
AGE: 19
PLAY-BY: Adrianne Ho
CITY: New York
LISTENING TO: Live Your Life - Yuna

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