Mirabel waited and waited and waited. It grew cold and dark while she sat in the courtyard, waiting quietly for her Abuela to come see her. Her eyes drifted across the cracks in the stones and walls before returning to the blood dripping from her hand, marring the beautiful floor that had been scrubbed and polished only hours ago. Staring at the drops of the ground she pulled her hand closer to herself, over her skirts to avoid any more landing there. With her other hand she used the blue skirt she had spent time gently pressing to perfection this morning to wipe it clean. Now the blood soaked her bright blue skirt and she was sure it would stain if she didn't properly treat it.
In the dark she was sure she got it all, and turned to look over her shoulder at the footsteps she could now hear approaching. A voice sighed deeply and she looked up to meet the eyes of her Abuela. "Abuela." she greeted softly, staggering to her feet in a bid to hold her attention. "Abuela, there are cracks! The magic is in danger! Casita is breaking! Casita is in danger!" in a panicked voice she hurried to tell her what she could see was still in front of her eyes, that her Abuela's eyes drifted over as she looked around the courtyard.
Her eyes returned to Mirabel, and she shrank smaller at the anger behind her stoic expression. "The house is fine. The magic is fine." she hissed, "Be grateful that you did not come up those stairs and interrupt this happy occasion. Be grateful that Dolores was discreet." She turned up her nose and scowled, "You should do as I ask and let those who can handle the jobs do them. You need not concern yourself with the magic. Leave it be." She jabbed her finger at Mirabel to emphasize her final three words before turning, her shawl billowing slightly as she moved quickly to return back up the stairs.
Alma Madrigal stalked back up the stairs with Mirabel's eyes following her as she went. She watched as she straightened her back and gave herself a shake to dispel the lingering anger to replace it instead with a celebratory attitude and coat herself with an air that nothing was the matter, not with La Casita, not with the magic, and certainly not with her. She was met with open arms as she returned and Mirabel stared, the bright lights flickering and disappearing as the door shut behind her.
It felt like ages before Mirabel finally moved, her body stiff from standing so still for so long. Her footsteps were quiet, the sound almost non-existent as she took small steps up the stairs, the cut on her hand forgotten as she grabbed the railing loosely on her way up. She barely noticed the sting, not realizing that she was leaving a trail as she went.
As she walked, she gazed around and watched the cracks dissipate. She only paused to hear the music for a moment before continuing her retreat to her bed in the nursery room. After all this time, she was still relegated to staying in the nursery, not good enough to receive the gift of her very own room despite the fact that she was a fifteen year old girl now and we'll past the age for living communally in a nursery.
The dull turquoise teal door in front of her was worn. The only pop of bright new color was the letters she had painted on there to signify that this was where she lived. Painting her name across the left side of the door had been a poor choice and it was quite surprising that her family had not had it sanded off yet given how angry her Abuela had been over her defiling their home.
La Casita opened the door for her and she mumbled her thanks before making her way to the small cot she'd had since childhood with hunched shoulders. She stared blankly at it for a moment before plopping down into the blankets, forgoing pajamas and dealing with her bloody cut up hand. She was simply too tired for either of those things to matter right now, even if this was her favorite skirt that could now be permanently blood stained. With all the time she had, what with not being allowed to help with virtually anything of importance, she could certainly make a new skirt or even cover the stain with new embroidery.
Her last thought before finally succumbing to the sleep she desperately needed was of a beautiful embroidery pattern of a butterfly she'd been wanting to try out. The endless possibility of colors danced under her eyelids and throughout her dreams that night.
YOU ARE READING
The Mask I Wear
FanfictionMirabel tries so hard only to go unnoticed until she is undoubtedly noticed for being in the way again, for trying too hard and screwing up everything when she tries her best to help. As she watches little Antonio receive his gift, she wonders if sh...
