Backstabbed - Camilo Madrigal X OC

Grief

(This chapter is kinda just a couple character's takes on the whole death thing. As if they're writing diary entries on it.)

-Camilo's pov-

It's uh... it's been a couple months since...

Since her murder.

Just to make matters worse, I killed her Mama, without realising.

So, yeah. I'm a murderer.

Mateo is in a coma, which doesn't help. I still have so many unanswered questions.

-Dolores' pov-

I hear him. I hear him all the time. My heart aches to have to listen to my brother going through such grief.

Knowing there's nothing I can do.

He doesn't leave his room, Mama slips his meals through his door, I'm not sure he always eats though. I'm scared.

I'm scared he'll never be able to get through this state of desolation.

Isabela is always bitter, I knew how close she was Sia. Everytime Mirabel attempts to break tension by cracking up a joke, Isabela only scoffs at her and disappears from the room. Three weeks ago Isa finally broke.

I remember her cold voice like it was only this morning.

(Flashback)

"Haha, hah... heh..." Mirabel nervously chuckled at herself, getting the hint that nobody thought she was funny.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP MIRABEL!? YOUR STUPID HUMOUR WON'T BRING HER BACK!"

...

I cringed as the atmosphere's intensity increased. Isabela's eyes held no sense of remorse. Any positive emotion she had once displayed was now drained away, tucked out of sight.

Mirabel looked down at her plate, aware that Isabela might be right.

It didn't take a genius to read her. Isabela scowled at her sister, before storming out of the room.

Nobody said anything, nobody had anything to say. It was unusually quiet, my gift drove me insane sometimes. But this family's newfound behaviours had really gotten out of control.

They won't get back to normal anytime soon, they might never get back to normal.

(End of flashback)

I'd grown a habit of visiting Mateo in the guest room. Not that I exactly cared for him. I never spoke to him, but I knew he held answers to my questions.

Questions were rare to come out of my mouth, as I basically heard the answers to everything all the time. I wish I hadn't heard a lot of things though. Like Milo's tragic cries, and his heavy heartbeats everyday.

I've seen him putting up acts for Tonito, he cares deeply for his brother. He doesn't want him to worry, Tonito can see through him though. I know he can.

He'll only leave his room if someone on our side of the family specifically requests him. With Isabela as an exception. It makes sense, since they both held a deep affection for Sia.

For the last two months, she'll go in his room for two to four hour every Monday and Friday. Ditching her chores. I've only heard them speak once, Isa comforting her grieving primo. But now they sit there in silence, I don't think I'll ever get why.

I enjoyed Sierra's company, and imagined her as my future sister-in-law. But I was always too caught up in my own chores or with my fiance to spend time with her.

Now I wish I knew her better.

-Isabela's pov-

I didn't realise how plain, how repetitive my life had grown to be before Sierra showed up. We had a bond that I didn't know two people were ever capable of having, platonically. I never thought you could only love someone outside of your family that much, without it being a romantic connection.

My once enchanting, lively days had slipped just out of my reach. Every object in my sight was engulfed in colour, but all I could see was just dull.

My world had completely turned upside down, it was like opposite day. Every, single, day.

Camilo told me about his nightmares that he goes through every night. He described them to me, in great detail. It's... worrisome.

Appearently it's the same one every night, and he wakes up at 1:00am. It's driving him to insanity, depression.

I'm the only one he's informed personally, he knows I'm the only other person that could compare to his misery.

His physique has, adjusted. He hasn't been eating a whole lot, a lot unlike he used to. So his body has grown extremely slim, I can practically see his bones. His eyes are always halfway open, with dark circles hinting at his little amount of sleep. His hair looks like a bird's nest. Not to mention the ruana he never takes off, stains from wiping his eyes or snot off.

Usually I would call him gross, but now it really doesn't matter to me.

Mirabel has been unintentionally provoking me with her unnecessary jokes. I despise her now more than ever before, clearly she hasn't taken in the fact that comedy can't solve everything.

Deep down I know it's not her fault, I know she just wishes things would go back to normal. Maybe she wishes that things were the way they were back before we met Sia.

But that was out of the question.

-Pepa's pov-

I might as well just start wearing my swimmers everywhere. I haven't gone a day since her death without a rain cloud storming over me. Occasionally lightening will be thrown into the mix. I haven't seen the sun in a while.

I'd always assumed Sierra would marry Camilo, bear his children, then grow old with him.

But those dreams had been thrown out the window.

My poor hijo won't speak to me, his own mother. I can understand why, but it stills hurts.
I just... I just thought he'd tell me everything.

He's always hated mum to son talks, that didn't matter so much to me as Dolores was never afraid to tell me things. She tends to go into shining detail informing me of her dates with Mariano, I remember the first time they kissed. Or when he proposed.

Now communication with Camilo is more important to me than ever. I can't handle having my child in this gloomy state. I want to step in, to have him drop all his feelings on me. But my motherly instincts understand that he won't be able to heal just like that.

He needs space.

No matter how much I hate it, I've given him space. I'll continue giving him space, for as long as he needs.

The death was brutal, but the simple fact that he murdered someone will burden him for evermore.

I have an urge to barge in his room and lift all that heavy weight off his shoulders. Yet I refrain, no one can bottle up their emotions forever. I of all people, would know that.