Chapter Text
Sometimes, Camilo wondered if he'd be better off dead. If he deserves it. He's not exactly sure what he's done that's worth the death penalty, but he feels like he deserves it. Maybe it's because he's a waste of resources, or maybe because he's so... twisted. If a pig that's killed because they were made just for the purpose of being eaten hasn't committed any crimes to deserve it, maybe he's the same way.
A pig...
When the boy awoke, he was still in his room, on the ground, all alone. His head was making him feel sick, not to mention just how sticky and icky it felt...
He tried to recall what happened, but found himself only getting a worse headache from the action...
Why hasn't anyone come and checked on him yet? What time was it? He feels sluggish, like he's been asleep for hours after staying up for two days. (Oddly specific...)
He forced his arms under his torso, and his knees to come closer. Managing to push himself up atleast a little. His vision was all blurred, but even he could tell that there was a pool of blood beneath him. Not huge, it was the size of a small plate, but definitely still notable.
He groaned, he needed to go like, drink something that his tía made. Or something to get the throbbing to die down, it was literally making him nauseous. The floor was spinning beneath him, not to mention how feverish he felt.
He did eventually manage to sit on, now sitting with one leg bent, the other extended. And a hand nursing his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing for the dizziness to disappear.
"Ah... Mierda, eso duele..." He decided on, finally able to get words out. He attempted (key word, attempted.) to maybe crawl out of the room, hopefully being able to stand after he got to the door.
One problem with that, though. He can't crawl, most he could do was shuffle himself over and closer. He ran his hand through his auburn curls, feeling a sort of wetness.
Well, shit again. He's still bleeding, the cut didn't feel huge, but heads bleed alot...
Honestly, he really doesn't want to call for help. Last thing he needs is a family intervention. He'll just apply pressure, and wait for it to stop, and then he'll go get something to drink. Preferably something like, Papaya juice? Just something that doesn't have a lot of sugar, mostly water.
He grabbed his ruana, pulling it up and whispering an apology to it, as he put it into his hair, on the stinging wound.
He just... waits?
Did... did Dolores not hear him fall? Because, he knows most noises are like, indecipherable to her, because there is always so much. So, that's why she didn't come, right?
They still care about him...?
It had been about an hour since his less than pleasant fall. He finally felt okay enough to try and venture out to the kitchen. Maybe he would allow himself an arepa?
No, he completely missed his practice, he doesn't deserve one.
Vergonsozo...
He scooted himself to have his back to his four foot tall stage. Looking back to where he fell, no wonder he cracked his head open. He had fallen on the edge of a stair.
Using the stage behind him as support, he slowly rose, trying his best to keep his legs steady. Once he was finally standing, he took a moment to breathe.
'Really, it took that much effort just to stand? Dios mios, I'm out of shape.'
He isn't trying hard enough, that's his conclusion.
Focus, he needs to just, walk out. Simple enough, there's really not much to it. He slowly let go of the tall platform behind him, getting his balance, before he was finally able to wobble onto the next step.
And then the next, and then another after that before he had to take a quick breather. See, each step, which went out about three feet, held rows of chairs. Because, well, his enter room was a theatre. The only problem was, instead of people sitting in those chairs, it was mirrors. And they always turned to face him. So, he was feeling a little judged right now.
Okay, he can do this.
This time he went a bit quicker, probably not the smartest move. But he isn't the smart one, he doesn't have to worry about that.
Finally, just three more steps, and he could get out of this damn room.
He fumbled up the steps, now leaning on his door. Dolores definitely heard that, as he practically rammed into it. He turned around, sliding down it as his breathes got heavy. He's fine, it's fine, he's going to be fine.
He ran his hand through his hair again, cringing as many tangles got caught in said hand. But it didn't even hurt as his hair was teared out. He pulled his hand back, not even a little fazed at the clump that came out. His hair wasn't exactly good at staying in his head anymore.
He finally built up the strength to get himself up, he turned and opened the door. Putting on (literally) the fakest smile yet, he walked out.
He peaked around the corner, when nobody was there, he dashed down the stairs, tripping on his own feet, but managing to stay up right, improve and improv.
Shifting into Antonio, he immediately doubled over, making a sharp cry in pain before shifting back to himself. He's never shifted with an injury before, and who would have guessed that shrinking amd then enlarging a cut would have hurt so much?
Sarcasm.
"Camilo!" He heard screamed. He looked up, and a very worried Luisa was looking at him as though he killed a man.
"What happened!? Are you okay!? Why are you bleeding so much!? Mamá!" She screamed. How could she tell? There's no way it was that bad. Really!
Julieta came in from the kitchen, hair covered in flour. Her mouth opened as if she were about to speak, before a horrified gasp escaped her. She rushed over to Camilo, taking his face into her hands.
"Mijo! What happened?" She said so fearfully, guiding him into the kitchen. He hadn't realized just how much Luisa was helping hold him up, until he fumbled in the cook's grasp.
She was muttered all sorts of different explanations for his, apparently horrible injury. Finally, she slowly sat him down in a chair, giving him a hand cloth, and telling him to supply pressure to it.
He just gave a mumbled "Si..." to the distressed women. Feeling as though even a nod or head shake would invoke that horrible dizzy spell once more.
She came back just a moment later, giving him a Pandebono, he looked wearily at the unhealthy, probably fat loaded bread. But he really, for the first time in years, didn't care.
He took a bite, an actual full bite of it. Quick to swallow, not savouring it. He immediately felt the painful wound on his head closing up. Taking another bite, and it was gone. He was tempted to finish the treat in hand, instead, he threw in on the table. Sighing.
"Lo lamento, lo siento, tía. Uh, heh...?" He mumbled out in a joking sort of way. Along with a short chuckle. Expect, she wasn't laughing. She looked confused and scared, everyone was looking at him that way today.
"Mijo... you have... you have blood all over you..." She said sadly, she walked over to their sink, taking off her apron, she doused the bottom, cleanest part in water. Camilo raised an eyebrow, reaching under his ruana, he grabbed that tiny mirror out of his shirt pocket. He looked at himself, and, damn... she was right, half his face was covered in a long streak of dried blood, with his ruana having a large stain on it as well, from where he tried (and kinda failed) to stop the bleeding.
Julieta came back, using her apron to clean off the blood from his face, despite his protests. Seriously, what would have been so wrong with using a damn handkerchief?
"Camilo, tell me what happened." She said in a, mostly gentle tone. He could tell there was sterness in it though.
"Nothing! I just cut my head a little, didn't realize how bad it was." He said nonchalantly. Believe it or not, he's a terrible liar. Luckily, he could literally shift himself to look and sound like he's telling the truth.
The women hummed, clearly unsatisfied with such a vague answer. "How did you hurt yourself?" She corrected, he made a small gulp. "Uh, oh! I tripped, outside the Castia. I was just coming to look for you, you know your foods the best in the village." He then told her. Her face shifted from... whatever her previous look was went to be, to a look of hurt.
Out of the corner of his eyes, something he doesn't normally trust. He saw his tío walk in, er, try to. He probably saw Julieta crouched down next to the blood covered teen, and decided that it wasn't worth his time. He's not worth anyone's time.
"Camilo..." He held his hands up defensively. "I'm telling the truth!" He said before she could finish.
"I saw you, and I saw Luisa. You were just by the stairs..." Well shit, isn't that dandy? He has two options now. Play stupid, or tell the truth. Which is more stupid.
"Ah... yeah... okay, fine, you caught me." He said with a slight grin. He knows his facąde should be taking this more seriously, but he can't. It's comedic to see him failing like this.
"I uh, fell of the stage, in my room. One minute I was practicing my Isabela twirls, and the next? Face, meets ground." He clapped his hands together for a more theatric effect. Well, guess there's always room for option three...
She sighed, standing up. She looked at his eyes, as if she were inspecting them. "Why did you lie the first time, Camilo?" She questioned. Atleast this time, he had an actual response.
"Eh, it was embarrassing... besides. I promise, I didn't know how bad it was. I'll be more careful next time." He told here gently, she gave a sad smile. "And you'll tell me right after?" She requested.
"And I'll tell you right after." He repeated. That seemed to be enough to satisfy her, even if her face said that she was still suspicious of him. Not that he blames her, he's acting pretty suspicious right now.
"Si tú lo dices..." She said hesitantly, kissing him on the forehead.
It was an awkward silence for a few moments, as the women tossed her apron to the side, taking up a new one. He eventually popped his lips, slowly sitting up.
"I'm. .. going to take a shower. Adios." He said, Julieta said something in return, though he didn't really respond, or register it at all. Instead, he started walking to, well, not the showers.
As soon as he was outside her range if sight, he bolted to the door, planning to just get some fresh air.
The Castia, on the other hand, had different plans.
The doors were locked, great.
"Uh, Castia? I kinda have to get through. Need some fresh air." He told the magical home. Which in turn, moved its tiles, pushing him further from the door.
"Okay, okay. Funny, now let me out." Camilo said with a grin, expect nobody else was there to see. So why put up the mask?
Casita, again, pushing him off. Causing him to groan in frustration, looking unimpressed with them. The tiles then started making a pathway, one that lead to their wash room. He sighed, of course, the fucking house wanted him to bathe.
"Ah, okay. Fine, I'll go shower, I needed to anyways." He muttered, following the titles to the washroom. Making angry grumbles along the way.
When he walked in, he noticed clean clothes already laid out. He went over and examined them. They were messily folded. So not Julieta, and his mamá shouldn't have known about it. Which leaves Bruno, Luisa. Or, Dolores.
...
He's an idiot.
Dolores probably heard the whole thing! Damn her gift, and damn his too.
Whatever, he tossed off his ruana, pulling his curls back. He looked at his face. It wasnt really as clear as it used to be, it had bumps here and there. But, his cheeks definitely felt more defined, something he found himself liking.
Next, he looked at his arms. They were thinner, he liked that, he could feel them.
But if he looked in the mirror, stated too long. It's as if his body was wrong again. His stomach stuck out too much, his cheeks were puffed, his arms were too flabby. He noted these flaws out to himself, taking all sorts of mental notes of what needed to be corrected. Without cheating, without shifting.
He looked over at the toilet, he hadn't drank anything, but he could atleast try to get what he had eaten up. He needs to be trying harder anyways.
After all, what is Camilo Madrigal without his looks?
Outside that door, Dolores was stalking. Hearing as he muttered to himself, 'Why is my stomach so big?' Or 'I shouldn't be able to pinch my arms and get any skin...'
She's suspected something was up with Camilo for awhile now. But she could never catch him, she could never hear him throwing up, or hurting himself. Granted, until now, she wasn't actively listening for it. All other noises would fade into the background.
But now she was, and up until now now, she could never catch him. But he's been careless this time. She found him out.
She can't say anything for certain, but it sounds similar to something Isabela used to have. She'd starve herself, on purpose. She could hear how Isabela's body yearned for food. It wasnt until after the Castia collapsed, did anyone besides herself find out.
Dolores felt horrible about it too. Because she knew, she could hear how Isabela was destroying her body. And did nothing.
She will never, never make that mistake again.