Worth The Shot

The Truth

Author's note: @SushiiCina made this FABULOUS fanart of y/n! The little details on her outfit are incredible; I love it SO much. It's so cool that such a talented artist is reading this. :)

BACK TO THE STORY

"Where is the bruise from?"

"Oh, the bruise?" You stammered, desperately fumbling for an excuse. But not only for Camilo's sake. Felix can't find out. It would crush him. He's lost his wife, and now this too? "I probably knocked it when I fell. I'm okay."

Dolores' thin eyebrows raised imperceptibly. You had lied for Camilo, and she knew. Would she tell?

"No, (y/n)," Augustin gently refused your excuse, concerned. "Someone hit you. Was it your father?"

"I-" You froze, a wave of shame splashing over you. It didn't make sense: you'd done nothing wrong, so why did you feel so embarrassed? A drowning feeling clenched your heart, and suddenly you really, really didn't want them to know. For your own sake.

"Who was it?" Felix miserably asked, his dark eyes troubled. With a scared pang, you realized that Felix already suspected the truth.

"Felix, I'm sorry," you weakly whispered. You weren't sure why you had apologized. This felt like your fault. You hastily smeared away a tear from underneath your eye. Mirabel stiffened beside you, and Augustin frowned, dropping his gaze. Have they guessed? What will they think of me? Camilo was right, I'm pathetic. All I've been is a burden on the Madrigals.

"I will talk some sense into him," Alma sharply shattered the silence, furiously marching up the stairs. "He is not behaving like a Madrigal." She's going to hit him. She's going to find him crying, and then she's going to hit him.

"Wait," you haltingly begged. Alma graciously paused to glance back. "Could you fix my arm first? I'd like to get it over with. Please?"

"Of course," Alma sighed. "It must hurt. I had forgotten about that. Felix, discipline your son." She fixed Felix with hard stare, and he nodded wretchedly. Dismayed, Felix's reluctantly mounted the stairs, as if dreading the son he would find.

"Come with me. Augustin, you too. Dolores, watch Antonio," Alma thoughtfully added, "Mirabel, come. (Y/n) will want a friend. It will be very painful." You cringed in nervous anticipation, and Mirabel comfortingly squeezed your uninjured hand.

Two intertwined voices floated out from Camilo's room as you passed: One thick with grieved disappointment and the other choked with shame and tears.

"...I have never treated your mother like that."

"I'm sorry, Papi."

"Where did you learn that from?"

"I- I don't know."

He's covering for Alma. Does Felix really not know? How could he not know? The answer flashed through your mind in abrupt images. Alma discreetly beating her grandchildren. Julieta's healing arepas slipped underneath the door. A magically bruiseless face with a forced smile the next morning. Of course Augustin, Felix, Pepa, and Julieta had no idea.

Mirabel bit her lip, hearing Camilo's lie. Alma's controlled expression betrayed no remorse.

Like the nursery, the inside of Alma's room was unremarkably average, empty except for a wooden desk, a portly dresser, and a bed.

"(Y/n), sit on the bed. Augustin, help me hold her in place," Alma commanded. You nervously lowered yourself onto the mattress.

"Are you ready?" Augustin softly asked, supporting your shoulder. You tensed your jaw and stiffly nodded, bracing yourself. Alma forcefully twisted your arm, and panicked agony seized your shoulder. You sharply cried out as Alma securely jolted your arm into place.

"Done," she successfully declared. "It may bruise or swell, so go lightly with movements."

"Are you okay?" Mirabel sympathetically asked, passing you a glass of water.

"That was terrible," You wheezed, wincing from the leftover aching soreness. There would definitely be a bruise. Your fingers tingled dizzily. "How am I supposed to help you with chores if I'm not allowed to move my arm?"

"Hey, you have two arms, don't you?" Mirabel grinned evilly. "You're not getting out of this."

Mopping and polishing Casita soaked up many hours. You and Mirabel giggled and flicked soapy water at each other, dawdling over your chores.

Despite Mirabel's lighthearted efforts to distract you, you couldn't banish your unwanted thoughts that orbited around Camilo. Especially with his cousins kidnapped, Alma would never allow him to take the day off of work. Where is he now?

Alma calmingly handled a panicked flurry of villagers who quickly learned of Julieta's disappearance. A sore throat, a sprained wrist, and a high fever left Casita untreated.

"I'm thankful the injuries were minor," Alma wearily reported at lunch, resting her forehead into her hand. "Oh, Julieta, what will we do without you when they are serious?"

"I found the escaped donkeys," Dolores optimistically offered, "They are grazing in the east pasture. I'll gather some villagers to help retrieve them since Luisa isn't..." Dolores' hopeful news petered off, and she frowned. Julieta wasn't the only Madrigal the village desperately missed.

"(Y/n)," Alma interjected into the gloomy mood. "Why don't you refill the water pitcher. When you return, I have news to share about your father."

About father? Has he left for the mountain Encanto yet? A chilling thought gripped you. Does he have the stolen candle... or does someone else?

You hurriedly stepped into the kitchen, anxious to learn about your father's mysterious whereabouts. You suddenly crystallized like a statue.

Camilo leaned against the wall, drenched in sweat. Dark dirt messily smudged his face and hands. He absentmindedly lifted a cup of water to his lips.

He must be helping with Luisa's chores. But he avoided lunch. I should leave him alone. He doesn't want to see me. Your heartbeat defensively quickened, and you admitted to yourself, I don't want to be alone with him.

Breathing heavily from physical exhaustion, Camilo glanced up from his cup. His features hardened, upset, as he caught you trying to back away.