"Gotham is dark."
That's what my parents always said. They made a point of reminding me, as if it were an undeniable truth. To this day, I wonder why they never wanted to leave, to look for something new somewhere else. I, on the other hand, have already accepted that I don't belong here.
Rent devours almost everything I make. Whatever's left goes to pay the debts they left behind when they died. And by the end of the month, all I have is a pile of bills charging interest and a nearly empty fridge.
The city has never given me anything but overdue notices, debts, and the feeling that the whole world is against me. I once thought I could build something here, something that mattered. Open my own bistro, cook what I love most, grow, and build a real life.
But Gotham suffocates me. It suffocates anyone, really. It's not a place for dreamers. I work at whatever comes my way: sweltering kitchens in bars, long shifts in diners that reek of old grease. I've even put up with bosses who thought they could lay a hand on me just because I needed the paycheck. I swallowed every humiliation in silence—because bills don't wait. I come home exhausted and still don't feel like I've moved an inch forward.
But today, at least, I've completed my mission once again.
The view from the second floor isn't extraordinary, but it's the real portrait of Gotham: narrow streets, burnt-out lamps, crumbling buildings, and alleys that breathe danger. It's uneven, filthy, and cruel. The typical neighborhood where most of the population struggles every day in search of something better.
Here, everyone knows someone who's already been swallowed by crime—a neighbor, a relative, or even a friend who had no choice. It's the rule, not the exception. And when violence comes knocking, there's no police, no justice, no hero who shows up. I know that, because when I needed it most, no one was there.
No one.
It might sound like I hate this city, but I don't. I just wish it were fairer to those who fight every day to survive. I'm tired. And yet, I know I'll miss it when I leave—and that's not far off now.
"Luci! Come on, let's drink!" Jessica shouted, sitting cross-legged on the old rug, waving an empty glass.
"Don't ruin her vibe. She stares out that window every single day after work. It's practically religious," Mirna said, raising her arms theatrically as if in prayer.
"It's true… sorry, Luci." Jessica laughed awkwardly, shrugging.
Mirna wasn't wrong. Looking out that window meant I had survived another day. Just a fragile sheet of glass separating the chaos outside from what little I had left inside. Making it home in one piece always brought relief, and that false sense of safety was enough to keep me going.
It became psychological. I treated it like a game—the final mission was always to make it home alive. And day after day, I did.
"All right, Jéss," I said, chuckling as I stepped away from the window and sat beside her on the rug.
Here in the apartment, the mood was a farewell, but not a funeral. There are five of us squeezed into this small space: me, Jessica, Helena—or Lena, as she prefers—Mirna, and Leo. Three tiny bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and one bathroom… you can imagine the chaos.
The living room, though small, is the heart of the apartment. The sagging couch, covered with a colorful throw Mirna swore she found at a "super chic thrift store," is where we cram together to watch movies or sleep off hangovers. The 21-inch TV sits on a makeshift rack Leo built out of stacked crates from a market.
On the walls, each of us tried to bring a bit of life. Jessica plastered posters of her favorite singers and bands. Mirna, always creative, filled gaps with paintings only she could explain. Lena brought in plants to balance everything: ferns spilling from shelves, a sturdy zamioculca near the window, and even a little lavender she cares for like a pet. And Leo, of course, left his mark with crude doodles he made one drunken night: caricatures of us, raunchy phrases only he thought romantic, and even a scoreboard tracking how many guys he'd hooked up with in one night.
"Yeah right! Luci's at that window making sure the Bat himself isn't out on the rooftops," Leo shouted from the kitchen.
"You've seen him around here?!" Jessica gasped, whipping her head toward me.
"He's joking!" I laughed, shaking my head. "And no, I've never seen him here."
The kitchen was even smaller, barely fitting a counter with a sink. The wall tiles were tacky, yellowed with age, some cracked, most of the grout stained. The fridge, left behind by an old tenant, was on its last legs: rust eating its sides, the door seal coming loose. The stove creaked whenever someone turned a knob, and the oven was nothing more than decoration now.
Even so, I tried to leave my mark there. I'd taped sheets of paper with my favorite recipes—stained with sauce—to the ugly tiles.
That kitchen, falling apart as it was, had been the stage for some of our best memories. Cramped, hot, but always ending in laughter, shared plates, and stories that lasted until dawn. In that worn-down space, I learned more than once that there's still beauty in cooking for the people you love.
And from that same kitchen, leaving a few cupboards wide open, Leo appeared with a cheap bottle of wine in one hand and the remaining glasses in the other.
"Lucky her…" Leo sighed dramatically, pouring the wine. "I'd have to stage a murder scene in this apartment just to see that hottie up close."
"My God, is there anything you wouldn't do for a man?" Lena retorted, taking a glass from his hand.
"Sweetheart… I'd commit atrocities, but never against my sisters." Leo raised his hand, posing solemnly.
"Oh, please. Like that time you threw me onto the sidewalk in front of Corner 47 just to get a guy's attention," Mirna shot back from the couch, flipping through TV channels.
"And in the end, he was straight and went for Jessica," Lena added, laughing, making Jéss burst into laughter too.
"How was I supposed to know!? Did you see those skinny jeans he was wearing?!" Leo protested.
"It looked like gym leggings," I added, laughing.
"Stop! I'm going to die from laughing too hard!" Jessica pleaded, collapsing backward.
I was going to miss all of this.
We'd been friends since Gotham Central High, a public school held together by duct tape and teacher goodwill. Not long before my parents died, I moved here, and they didn't hesitate to take me in.
They became my family. They held me through my breakdowns, forced me to eat when I didn't want to, slept in the same bed so I wouldn't feel alone. They endured my grief with me. Since then, our friendship has been more than just sharing space—it's family. An improvised but unshakable net that kept me standing when everything else threatened to collapse.
"I don't know how I'll survive without Luci's lemon pie," Lena groaned, burying her face in a pillow.
"And I'll miss the spaghetti bolognese," Jessica added, rolling her eyes as if she already felt the loss.
"Imagine being stuck eating Leo's cooking," Mirna teased, pointing at him. "Luci, you'll have to leave us some frozen meals, or we're doomed!" she finished, making us all laugh.
"Hey! I make a killer chili con carne! And nobody—and I mean nobody—can criticize my drinks!"
"We'll all die of hemorrhoids and cirrhosis before Christmas…" Mirna concluded with mock despair.
And once again, laughter filled the apartment. That was always the way: we struggled, we fought every day, but when we were together, it felt like nothing else mattered. And I would miss it dearly.
Leo, Mirna, and Jessica carried on with their usual bickering, shouting and teasing, and in the middle of it, Lena leaned toward me to ask something more practical.
"How's the move going?"
I sighed, swirling the wine in my glass.
"It's coming along. I still need to finalize the contract at the restaurant… so I'll have to work a few more weeks before I can leave for good."
"I see," Lena murmured, pouting. "And the apartment in Metropolis?"
"I'm talking to the landlord. It's small, but it's downtown, which is already great. I just hope the place is still standing when I get there." I gave a short, nervous laugh.
"That's great… but even if it's Metropolis, I still worry about your safety. Do you watch the news?"
"They've got that guy over there," I said, trying to reassure her, though without much conviction.
"And we've got Batman and the vigilantes here… and Gotham's still chaos," she countered softly.
A pang hit my chest. A silent reminder of what Gotham had already taken from me.
"Yes… it is," I murmured, looking away.
"I'm sorry, Luci," she whispered.
I stared at the wine in my glass for a few moments, then reached out to take her hand, squeezing it firmly, trying to give her the reassurance I was also looking for.
"I'll be fine. I promise."
She didn't say anything, just answered with a faint smile.
Slowly, our attention drifted back to the noise in the room. Leo gestured like he was on trial, Mirna roasted him mercilessly, and Jessica laughed so loud she nearly drowned out the TV.
"When Luci opens her bistro, I want a lifetime discount," Mirna declared.
"Discount? Bitch, I want to eat for free!" Leo cut in, making Jessica and Mirna roar with laughter.
Our laughter still echoed when the TV suddenly caught our attention. A reporter spoke about yet another night of crime in Gotham, pointing out that the masked vigilante Batman had been sighted again. Grainy security footage showed his shadowy figure on a rooftop.
"Oh, come on…" Leo bit his pinky. "What a man. Such a pose… if he showed up at my window, I'd open it without thinking twice."
"I know exactly what you'd open," Jessica shot back, smacking him on the arm.
They kept laughing, poking fun, but the bitter taste in my wine went down easier than their jokes.
"Don't you think he's old by now?" Mirna asked. "He's been at it how long?"
"At least twenty years. We weren't even teenagers," Lena calculated.
"Damn. He's ancient," Jessica said.
"In my dirtiest dreams, he's a very hot sugar daddy," Leo chimed in, laughing.
"So he's like… what? In his forties? He must be out of shape by now," I said, my voice dripping with irony.
The mood shifted, and everyone exchanged side glances. Leo broke the silence by sitting down beside me and placing a hand on my shoulder.
"He may not be in his prime, but I bet he's still hot."
"You don't even know if he's all that," I replied, raising a brow at him.
"The guy's been active all these years. There's no way he isn't in shape," Leo shot back with conviction.
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of wine, which tasted more bitter than before.
"That's like a 25-year age gap…" Lena said, sipping her wine. "He's a mature man, not an old man."
"He's only a little younger than my dad," Mirna said, scrunching her face.
"Does your dad work out?" Leo blurted, and that was it—we all burst into laughter.
The laughter echoed until it slowly faded away.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but heavy, a reminder that this would be one of my last nights like this.
"I'm going to miss you all so much," I said, my voice breaking though my smile was sincere.
Leo, still beside me, leaned in and pulled me into a side hug.
"We're the ones who'll miss you, sis. Every day," he whispered, unusually serious.
Jessica joined in, hugging me tightly, and from the couch, Lena and Mirna reached out their hands to clasp ours. For a moment, we were one tangled knot of arms and fingers, bound together in silence.
"All right, enough drama! Enough about Batman and hot old men… for now." Leo stood, raising his glass. "Let's make tonight the most unforgettable of all!"
Before I could react, Mirna and Jessica dragged me into their room, tearing through closets, tossing clothes and makeup everywhere like fashion stylists on a mission. Leo stood with hands on his hips, looking me up and down like he was judging a contestant.
"Tonight's mission: to make Gotham realize the woman it just lost!"
The sadness was there—I saw it in their eyes, and they saw it in mine. But so was the certainty that, together, we'd always stay standing. In the end, that's what saves us every day—not gods, not vigilantes. Just us.