Chapter Text
It’s been a year since the collapse, and rebuilding, of Casita. A year since the Madrigals were given an opportunity to mend the rift between the family, and start anew.
Since then, Abuela has put forth a lot of effort in mending her ways and putting less pressure on her family. The familia Madrigal have stopped depending on their gifts so much, and have stopped letting the villagers completely depend on them as well. The family still has a lot to learn, but since the rebirth of the miracle they’ve all grown more accustomed to taking care of themselves. They still help out around town, but working is not a requirement anymore. Instead, they choose when and if they want to help out.
Camilo has thoroughly enjoyed the leeway he has gotten, and he has taken plenty of well deserved breaks; but there’s one job Camilo still does consistently. Baby-sitting. He loves the kids he takes care of, and he enjoys watching over them.
So he kept one job to continue doing on the daily: Every evening, Camilo would walk into town one last time to round up any loose children and return them home safely. Sometimes, there would be lost children who wandered too far from home and needed some help finding their way back- but most of the time it was the little trouble makers who wanted to stay out as late as possible. Those were the ones he enjoyed herding home the most.
Juancho was a regular to the perks of a ‘Camilo Escort’, as the villagers call it. Really, it was no surprise the kid stayed out so late, considering how much coffee he drank throughout the day. And today was no different.
Camilo walked up the hill towards Juanchito’s house, almost out of breath from the physical exertion. It didn’t help that Juancho was currently catching a piggy back ride, adding some extra (very unneeded) weight.
Ay, the stuff he puts himself through for his kids.
Juancho lived on the outskirts of town, so he was usually the last of the children to be dropped off. Juancho’s mamá was already waiting outside for him, well accustomed to the routine. She scooped up her boy, immediately relieving Camilo of the weight, and thanked him- as she did every day.
“Muchísimas gracias! ¿Quieres agua? Te ves cansada, mijo” (Many thanks! Want some water? You look tired, darling) she asked, fretting over Camilo (as usual) as she set Juancho on her hip.
“No gracias, ‘stoy bien.” (No thanks, I’m good) Camilo responded with a convincing smile. While he was a little tired, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome, and he needed to get home anyways.
“Ok, hasta mañana, Camilo!” (Okay, until tomorrow, Camilo!)
. . . . . .
Camilo was about three/fourths of the way home, but somehow it was already nearing seven o’clock, his curfew. Camilo fidgeted with his hands as he walked, slightly nervous, as he usually didn’t stay out this late. He peered up at the sky, which had been steadily darkening since the sun set. The first stars of the night were just beginning to be visible.
I better hurry, Mami will be upset if I don’t get home soon.
To lessen the buzz of nerves that were begging to leave a pit in his stomach, he shifted between people idly, putting no thought into whatever form he was currently in. He happened to be in the body of a young lady, only a few years older than he was, when he turned the corner and was met with a man lounging on the sidewalk. He seemed to be in his late twenties or so, and most definitely under the influence of something, but since Camilo’s job wasn’t to round up the adults as well, he went on his merry way. Or at least he would have if he wasn’t grabbed by the waist and pulled back immediately after passing.
Camilo squawked indignantly, grabbing the guys wrists and attempting to push the hands off of him. The man, who had somehow stood up and grabbed Camilo in the few seconds he was out of sight, payed no mind to Camilo’s efforts, keeping a steady grip. He pulled him backwards a couple of feet, until he was positioned in front of an alleyway.
Camilo, who was rightfully confused, and mildly irritated, at the rude treatment, whirled around to face the man, opening his mouth with the intention of sharing that sentiment.
“What’s y-“ He started, but before he could get the rest out the man pushed him into the alleyway behind him, hard.
He grunted, both from the force and in surprise of the action, as he stumbled backwards, stepping on and tripping over the bottom of the long skirt he had on. He yelped and threw his hands out, but there was nothing for him to catch himself on. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for impact. On the way down, he cursed the offending fabric, as if the clothing itself chose to wrong him, and also himself for carelessly choosing to wear it.
Suddenly his fall was interrupted, and not by the floor, but by someone catching him. From within the shadows behind him, two hands emerged, seizing him from under his arms and lifting him back to his feet. Camilo could only blink for a second, disoriented from the rapid change from falling to standing. For a moment, he just stared at the man in front of him in confusion, the man’s empty hands confirmation that he wasn’t whoever just caught him. Then who?- Camilo took a sharp intake of air, and slowly began to turn his head, peeking over his shoulder to see who accompanied the hands that caught him. To his dismay he was met with the stony face of a large and scary-looking man.
Why…Why was this man waiting in the alley?
He quickly shifted his gaze back to the man who’d pushed him. Despite the outwardly violent action he’d just committed, his face was strangely devoid of the anger Camilo had expected. Instead his eyes seemed to be flashing in excitement and.. something Camilo couldn’t identify. Something dangerous. His half lidded eyes languidly observed Camilo as the silence hung between. Seconds, that felt like minutes, passed by and the man made no effort to explain his behavior. Camilo’s voice seemed to be lost as well. The man was….calm. Weirdly so.
What did he do that for then?
Camilo swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry.
”Uhm… w- what’s going on here?” He asked, trying to stay polite despite the strange circumstances. Trying to keep the fear that was starting to build from making its way into his voice. “Do you- Do you need help? Or…” he trailed off, receiving no answer. The man’s facial expression didn’t change, as if Camilo hadn’t spoken a word.
He could feel beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow as he attempted to lightly tug himself away from the man behind him. He had no idea what provoked the harsh treatment in the first place, but he had been hoping that these men weren’t planning on roughing him up him any further. Those hopes were dwindling as the hold on either side of his ribs relented, despite his clear attempts to wriggle free, and became slightly painful. They way the man in front continued to observed from where he was situated, coincidentally blocking Camilo’s exit, further convinced him that he needed to get out of there.
He was just about to consider pushing his way out, abandoning the calm and polite bravado, and making a run for it. But then, as sudden as they showed up, the hands moved from under his arms, releasing him momentarily. He almost let out a sigh of relief. Almost. But that relief was quickly replaced with a spike of fear once one of the hands was placed over his mouth, affectively silencing him, while the other made its way into the long wavy hair that currently sat atop his head. And pulled.
He gasped out as tears began to fill his eyes, the noise muffled by the rough, dirty hand covering his mouth.
“What are you doing out here all alone, cariño?” the first man practically purred out, finally breaking his silence.
The pet name, which usually would evoke a feeling of warmth and happiness in most, only served to turn Camilo’s blood ice cold.
They….They think I’m a woman.
He really hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it might be, but with the way that man had said that... with the way that man was looking at him, full of what at first Camilo couldn’t identify, but now recognized was hunger- He blinked back his tears, trying to keep the salty water at bay.
This can’t be happening. Sure these men were sort of scary-looking, and the circumstances weren’t looking good, but this is Encanto.
And while Camilo had heard stories, whispers around town, of what the raiders used to citizens (most often women) before the creation of the Encanto, never has it happened since. Camilo mentally chastised himself for being such a wimp. Surely this was some sort of misunderstanding! It had to be, right? There was no reason for him to be so scared. Him! Camilo Madrigal, scared? Never. Never. There’s no need to be scared, especially right now. In fact, he was embarrassing himself and his family name by thinking like this. Everything was fine! This was all just a big misunderstanding. This is Encanto. Just a misunderstanding… Camilo was fine. He’d be fine. Everything is fine. These were inhabitants of the Encanto. Surely they wouldn’t do anything like that,…right?
Everything is fine. This is just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine. Repeated in his head like a mantra.
But…Camilo couldn’t lie, even to himself, the situation was unnerving, to say the least. The way these men cornered him, silenced him(in a less than gentle manner) and now were content just leering. At him.. as a woman.
Sure, this is Encanto, it was probably some sort of misunderstanding. But… he still found himself…. sort of…scared.
This- This wasn’t right. He needed to change back into himself, into anyone. He can’t be in this body for a second longer. Not around them.
While Camilo internally panicked, the man in front of him simply let his gaze wander, seemingly taking in all he could of Camilo’s appearance, not bothered by his lack of response.
He really needed to shift right about now.
But he was frozen. Despite knowing what he needed to do, he simply continued to tremble in the same body.
Camilo! Stupid idiot, do something!
He tried to shift back into himself, but couldn’t. Right now, despite trying to convince himself otherwise, Camilo was scared, and his gift reacted accordingly, his body holding onto its form as some sort of protection.
Coward! Shift! Shift!
The man’s eyes turned from Camilo, to above and behind him.
“Hold her still, Luís, and keep her quiet. Tendrás tú turno después.” he commanded, addressing the other man. (You’ll have your turn after)
Immediate panic overtook him.
Mierda! Definitely not a misunderstanding, that was clear as day.
Get out of here. Now. Now. Now.
Camilo’s attempt at a brave facade broke all at once, and tears began falling freely down his cheeks, wetting the hand placed over his mouth, which in turn alerted the man behind him of his crying.
The hand in his hair pulled him backwards so that he was flush against the man behind him- Luís. Who then leaned in closer, his breathe hot against Camilo’s ear, and whispered:
“No llores, hermosa… Lo prometo, será genial” (Don’t cry, beautiful.. I promise, it’ll be great)
Camilo sucked air in between shaky whimpers and a dirty palm, while the man behind him shushed him like a fussy child. He let go of his hold on Camilo’s hair, before, after a moment of struggle, forcing Camilo’s arms behind his back in a very uncomfortable, borderline painful, way. He then wrapped one hand around Camilo’s frail wrists to bind both of them together.
Okay. I’m now a captive. This is bad, really bad. Could use a gift right about now?
Nothing.
Ok, who cares about the gift. Fuck the gift! Fight regularly- escape. Do something!
Camilo struggled against the grip, pushing and pulling with all his might, but only got the sharp sting of fingernails digging into his skin in return. He let out a strangled whine at the disheartening realization that he wasn’t strong enough to free himself.
“Listo, ‘duardo?” (Ready, ‘duardo)
“Claro que sí.” (of course)
The man in front of him, presumably Eduardo- stepped up and wrapped his hands around Camilo’s neck, causing Camilo to writhe in utter panic. Pleas, muffled beyond comprehension, falling from his lips. The man- Eduardo chuckled, apparently finding the fear of being strangled endearing. But, he chose to instead slide his hands down till they rested on Camilo’s- or the body he was currently inhabiting’s- chest .
Camilo squeaked in shock, instinctually trying to arch away from the foreign touch, especially foreign considering he wasn’t even in his own body, but he couldn’t move away from the palms pressed up against him. Eduardo’s eyes locked with his tearful gaze, and Camilo hoped that the man would stop once he saw the fear in Camilo eyes. For a second, he thought maybe the message he was trying to send- Stop. Please, stop- would get through to Eduardo, but the man met his stare head on, his dark eyes steely and unflinching, uncaring of Camilo’s pleas. At that moment it truly sunk in that this man wasn’t going to stop, he was going to do whatever he pleased with no care for Camilo.
“Shhhhh, quiet, niña.”
I can’t handle this. I want my mamá.
Camilo began to full on sob under their hold. He didn’t care about being brave anymore. He didn’t care who heard him, he just wanted to go home.
Please, Dolores, por favor! Por Dios, don’t be in your room. Hear me- help me!
“Callate, Chiquita!”
The hand stifling Camilo’s sobs pushed up on his jaw to clamp his mouth shut, and then held his nose, cutting off his airways. Camilo trashed in the man’s hold, making muffled noises of distress as he attempted to turn his head away from the suffocating grip, but his attempts were futile. He desperately tried to maneuver himself out of the man’s grasp, kicking out his legs, squirming, and bucked his hips, but his efforts got him nowhere. And he could feel his energy slowly draining out of his body as his head began to feel lighter and lighter. His movements became sluggish, before dying down completely. He couldn’t hear anything anymore, but the ringing in his ears, and all he could feel was his head pounding through his skull,.. but then he was floating and it didn’t really hurt anymore. His mind was fuzzy, before one thought bubbled up to the surface, and then with sudden clarity he realized-
I’m dying.
His vision began to swim, darkening at the edges, before finally fading to black.
Just as his consciousness was slipping away the hand came off his face entirely, and suddenly he could breathe again. Before even fully coming to, he instinctively gasped for air, choking, numbly he could feel dribble running down his lower lip and collecting under his chin. He continued sputtering, sucking in large intakes of well needed oxygen, before the man in front of him forced his head up so his gaze could meet Camilo’s glassy-eyed stare. It took him a second to blink back the blur in his vision, and he realized the man was moving his lips before his mind registered the sound of words.
“-won’t let go next time. Entonces callate, cariño” (So shut up, sweetheart) Eduardo spoke, in a cloy, insincerely sugary manner.
Camilo’s lip wobbled as he forced back more sobs. His legs felt as though they were going to give out at any second, and the pounding in his skull hadn’t ceased, but he needed to get it together fast. He steeled himself, and quickly opened his mouth to try to speak.
“Stop! I’m-“
He wanted to- no, needed to tell them who he was, what he was, but his mouth was covered again in an instant.
“I mean it. Silencio, perra.” (Quiet, bitch) Eduardo growled out, his voice suddenly void of all the sickening sweetness it held moments before.
His hands returned to gliding over Camilo’s borrowed body, but instead of groping at his breasts again they traveled downwards.
Eduardo lifted the end of Camilo’s now torn skirt and shoved his hands underneath it, slithering up Camilo’s legs and towards an area Camilo knew no one else should be touching.
Once the hands reached their destination they began rubbing circles, through Camilo’s undergarments, at an area between his legs. The simple action sent a sudden shock throughout his body, causing his knees to buckle and almost give out from under him. He gasped as the air in his lungs seemed to be punched out of him.
Luís braced Camilo against his broad chest, chuckling at his unintentional reaction, before once again pulling Camilo’s smaller body flush against his own and speaking into his ear.
“Eres virgen? Reaccionas como uno.” (You a virgin? You act like one)
How much the older man was enjoying the show made itself known through their close proximity, digging into the small of Camilo’s back. He tried to squirm away from it, but instead unintentionally pushed himself into the hand in between his legs, sending more shocks of overwhelming sensation through his body. He whined at the contact and trashed again in his hold, trying to position himself away from the wandering hands.
”Well, she won’t be for much longer” Eduardo responded, not stopping his ministrations on Camilo’s inexperienced body.
It took Camilo a few seconds for his lethargic brain to understand what he was saying, having to push through the haze from oxygen deprivation, but once he did he felt like ice cold water was just splashed over his body.
‘She’ won’t be a virgin for much longer.
Camilo was right, and, oh, how he wished he wasn’t. These men were planning to do to him what the raiders that killed his Abuelo did to several of the women back then. That atrocity that Camilo had only heard of in stories he wasn’t meant to overhear, that had remained an unnamed and for the most part unknown concept to him.
Camilo wasn’t all that knowledgeable on sex-ED, but he did know it was supposed to be done between two people that loved each other and agreed on doing it. And he definitely did neither with these men. He was 16, he was supposed to wait for this sort of thing.
He was supposed to wait. For marriage, or at least for when the time is right. And it’s not right. Nothing about this was right!
He hasn’t even had his first kiss yet.
Camilo attempted to close his legs to block out the invasion, but the hand continued to abuse the same spot, undeterred by the pressure.
This was all so overwhelming for him, and the longer this assault continued the harder it was to form coherent thoughts beyond panic and confusion. Every time the fingers completed their circuit Camilo’s legs spasmed against his will. The strength in them dissipated as they continued to shake, and he was forced to lean against the man behind him in support.
Though in the most terrible, terrifying conditions, amidst the fear and the pain, and the overwhelming, overstimulating feeling, there was a blooming sensation behind his abdomen that almost felt good. And that was absolutely sickening to Camilo, so much so that it brought along a new round of tears, birthed from pure unadulterated mortification.
As the strange touch continued, foreign noises stemming from a horrible concoction of pain and pleasure spilled out of his lips and into the open air around them. Although muffled by the hand over his mouth, they were deafening all the same. And disturbingly unfamiliar, even to Camilo.
“See, I told you. Te sientes bien” (you feel good) Luís cooed into his ear.
He shook his head as best he could.
Denying even though he too knew somehow, in some way, there was a sliver of truth in the man’s words. That for some reason beyond his comprehension, some sick part of him felt something alarmingly close to ‘bien’. He was nauseous even thinking for a second he- his body- could enjoy this, while in the throes of pain and fear no less. How could that ever feel good?
But it wasn’t, and he didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want to feel any of this. But he was, and his own body was betraying him, and he couldn’t understand why.
What is wrong with him? He really is a disgrace to the family name!
”Now hold still, sentirás mejor” (you’ll feel even better)
Camilo shook his head vehemently, the hand on his mouth stifling the movement as well as the muffled pleas still escaping from his throat. ‘No, No!’ He repeated, but the words barely escaped muffled through a palm pressed flat against his lips, and even if the words had successfully reached his audience, they fell on deaf ears.
The circular rubbing finally faltered, as Eduardo removed his vile touch from between Camilo’s legs- only to bring it up until he reached Camilo’s waistband, and promptly shoved his hand under it.
Under it and under all his layers.
Camilo had never felt so utterly exposed, humiliation burning his cheeks.
Pressure.
That was the first thing Camilo’s brain computed. Pressure on the same vicinity of his body that’s been subjected to most of the abuse thus far. The area that, despite possessing often, Camilo himself had never touched. A sacred area, meant to only be shared with those closest to you.
And now..
Two fingers pushed in an attempt to make penetration, there was resistance as Camilo’s body fought to keep them out- but its defenses were breached.
And, Dios, it hurt.
It hurt so much. Indescribable, incomparable pain.
He swore he felt something inside him tear while trying to accommodate to the foreign intrusion.
Camilo cried out in pain, and flailed in an attempt to get it out of him; but that only served to push them deeper. The pain was so striking that all of his will to fight suddenly vanished and his body went slack.
Camilo wasn’t used to this amount of pain. Encanto was safe; scraped hands and knees, and the occasional broken bone, was the worst of it for most.
And now…
The experience was nauseating. There were multiple fingers inside of him, and he could feel the grime underneath each. individual. fingernail. They curled every so often, in the midst of their shallow thrusting, and scratched agonizingly at his insides.
Why was this happening?
Finally, after what felt like hours of the torture, but in reality had only been minutes, Eduardo removed his fingers from within Camilo. Immediately his body sagged in relief; which was short lived.
Because as the fingers retreated Camilo numbly realized they were coated in a sickening red.
Blood red.
Eduardo wasn’t fazed, and simply wiped the blood off on his pant leg.
Camilo stiffened, his world seeming to slow down, scared to even check as he shifted his focus to his inner thighs and found the source of the blood. A line of it- running down his legs and creating small droplets on the ground at his feet.
He was bleeding.
He was bleeding and he couldn’t even bring himself to move his body out off its limp state, instead staring at his inner thighs impassively.
He really was a coward. A disgrace.
Then he heard it, all the motivation he needed: The sound of a belt buckle.
That’s all it took for panic to come back full force, in fact it was worse than before.
But the fight within him came back too.
Eduardo fumbled with his fly, pulling down the zipper and pulling.. himself out of the confines of his pants. The sight of it flustered and sickened Camilo.
The boy, despite his naivety, knew where this was going, or at least where Eduardo thought this was going.
He knew he was a pathetic sight. His face was hot with shame, red and tear stained; his eyes swollen and puffy from crying, but still producing tears.
He knew he looked pathetic, but he wasn’t going to be pathetic too.
He wasn’t giving up, he wasn’t going to let this go any further.
Camilo blinked away his tears, and glared at the man in front of him through his blurry vision.
I can’t let them do this.
With sudden determination, he swung his leg, kicking out with as much strength as he could muster at the other man; who swore under his breath as he narrowly dodged a blow to the crotch.
“Hijo de puta!” Eduardo cursed, grabbing at Camilo’s legs in an attempt to stop his rebellion.
Camilo tried to yank his legs back, but his efforts were fruitless, so he resorted to his turning his head wildly back and forth in an attempt to free his mouth. And finally he succeeded; tearing his head away from the disgusting hand that had been covering his mouth.
It’s gone. He could talk! He needed to talk. Fast.
“Stop! Wait, I’m Camilo!” He cried out, voice wavering from fear and tearful sobs. “I- I’m Camilo, please stop! ¡Por- por favor!”
Both men froze in place, having recognizing the name instantly along with its implications.
“Nice try.” Luís jeered after a moment of hesitation, clearly having opted to not believe Camilo’s words, before lifting his hand again.
Camilo knew that meant he was about to cover his mouth again, and he couldn’t have that. He was mentally preparing himself to bite down- hard, the moment he had the opportunity, but it never came-
“Wait,” Eduardo haltingly chimed in, his voice uncertain for the first time since this ordeal started “prove it then.”
Luís paused, lowering his hand, before returning his gaze to Camilo. Giving him the chance to prove himself. Eduardo also backed up to watch, giving him room to breathe.
Camilo almost collapsed on the spot, relief mixed with apprehension flooding through him.
I just need to shift.
Still the ever lingering fear had him stuck in inaction. His panic griping onto the body he inhabited, in a misguided attempt at safety, even as he wished to change it. He tried to ground himself, his heart still pounding out of his chest. Eduardo seem to take his lack of action as proof that he caught Camilo’s bluff, as he started to advance towards him again.
Camilo cowered back in fear and quickly closed his eyes fearfully, praying for a miracle, and finally the magical sound that accompanied his shifting filled the air. He opened his eyes to see a comfortingly familiar ruana. He slumped in relief, finally back in his own body.
“Mierda!” Luís swore, taken aback, quickly retracting his hands as though burnt before pushing Camilo to the ground in disgust.
Shards of glass, from broken beer bottles that littered the floor, pierced Camilo’s hands, and his knees were scraped as he made contact with the ground painfully; but he didn’t even care, he barely even acknowledged it mentally. He had more to worry about, he needed to get out of there.
Almost instantly he scrambled back up off the ground, but before he could book it out of there, Eduardo grabbed a handful of his hair. And with an agonizing yank, Camilo was forced back by the head. Crying out in pain, he weakly grabbed at the hand buried in his curls in an attempt to free himself.
“Dolores!” He cried out to his sister desperately, praying she could hear him, “ayudame!”
Eduardo pulled him by his hair, and shoved him into the nearest wall. Camilo’s back made impact first, expelling the air from his lungs, and his head followed soon after. The resulting thunk rattled his skull, and immediately the incessant throbbing he’d been experiencing since he’d nearly suffocated flared up to an excruciating degree. Camilo braced himself against the wall to keep himself upright, his spotty vision and piercing headache making it difficult to stand. While Camilo was still disoriented, Eduardo punched him square in the face, for good measure.
The force threw Camilo’s head back, his hands automatically flying up to hold his nose, as he dropped back to the ground pitifully.
Slowly, and strenuously, he sat back up, intending to attempt another escape, but as soon as he changed positions he was overcome with dizziness and then sudden searing pain. Wincing, he brought his hand up to hold the back of his head, and when he brought it back to look- it was covered in red. Nausea overtook him, and it felt like he was going to be sick.
A kick to his ribs from Luís brought him back to the present, rather unpleasantly, and- curling in on himself, he sank back to the ground with a whimper.
“Why didn’t you say anything!? Did you want it, you fucking f**got ?” Eduardo spat, visibly repulsed by Camilo. “Of course you did, pinche pendejo! I mean why else were you parading around as a woman, flaunting your fake body?”
Luís pulled Camilo up by his blood-matted hair, causing the boy to scream out in agony as his vision went white with pain, making him wail out indecipherable pleads for mercy. He helplessly grabbed at the hand pulling at his scalp with choked sobs.
“Mariposo, lo disfrutaste. Gimiendo como una puta.” (Homo, you liked it. Moaning like a whore) Luís spat, this time literally.
The spit landed near his rapidly blackening eye, mixing with the tears on his face, and dribbling down his cheeks in a fat glob. Luís suddenly released Camilo’s hair, forcing him to put his hands out in order to avoid falling flat on his face.
“…’Lores” Camilo called out weakly, as a last desperate attempt at salvation, letting his head hang he stayed on his hands and knees on the glass littered floor while he awaited whatever was next.
Which was, apparently, a swift kick to the stomach by Eduardo, who really did not like him calling out for his sister. The force knocked all the air out of Camilo’s lungs, and threw his body to the side; his back hitting the wall, no doubt causing scrapes along his spine where the bones jutted out, and he slid down to the floor into a pitiful crumpled up heap of hurt. He made several pained gasping sounds, dry heaving nothing, as he tried to regain his breath after such a brutal kick to his abdomen.
“‘MILO!” A shrill call of his name rang out,
The yell grabbed the attention of all three in the alley, the two men’s heads snapped up in surprise at getting caught. Camilo struggled to lift his head to meet the familiar voice, but he didn’t have to look to know who it was. Even though it was louder than he’d ever heard it before, he’d recognize the voice of his sister anywhere.
Right now, to Camilo, her voice was equivalent to the miracle itself, descending upon him, shining a holy light.
“Ey! Get off of him!!” Another, slightly less familiar (but equally welcomed), voice boomed.
Both Luís and Eduardo backed off quickly, sharing a mutual look of dread. Camilo sobbed in relief, he’d never loved his sister or her boyfriend more.
Dolores was at his side immediately, carefully holding behind his skull to stop his bleeding. She cradled him like a baby, supporting his head, and sat him up, wrapping an arm around his torso so that he was safe in her embrace. She planted a few rushed kisses on Camilo’s face, just like Pepa did, grateful to be reunited with her little brother.
Absently Camilo could hear Dolores’ shaky voice reassuring him (despite her tears) and the faint sound of Mariano beating down on Eduardo and Luís.
Camilo let himself smile as he registered the warm droplets of rain landing on his cheeks and accumulating in his hair, washing him clean, he knew the cause of this storm. His mami was coming for him, his familia was almost here.
I’m going to be okay.
With that thought, he let himself slip into unconscious.