Bruno awoke with his back and knees aching. It was not unusual, but every so often, he had to endure the reminder that he was getting up there in age. He rolled onto his side to relieve his spine, which crackled as he curled up.
The pain reminded him of the walls. That wretched decade of loneliness. The worst decade of his life. It was over. His terrible vision had come to pass, and his family was recovering from the ordeal. But part of him seemed to remain there. Blinking in the darkness of his bedroom, his memories played in front of his eyes. Through the crack on the family tree in the dining room, he was watching his family languishing day after day, year after year.
His demons screamed at him for his cruelty. Look at what you've done! Your sisters and brothers are crying because they think that you have killed yourself! Why don't you do it now and give them something to cry about?
He resisted the urge to open his veins. He kept watching. And when the family vowed to no longer speak his name, Bruno started to regret staying alive. Pain bloomed in his heart as they gradually moved on without him. Camilo and Mirabel forgot about him. Bruno ached to embrace them both like he used to. Bruno's hands itched to wipe Mirabel's tears, which she would learn to wipe too quickly for Julieta or Agustín to notice. His voice was shot from disuse, but Bruno yearned to comfort Camilo when the boy would slump onto the dining table at the end of the day. Bruno's chest hurt from containing his own sobs when Antonio was born. Bruno has held all of his sobrinos as infants except Antonio.
Bruno hated himself for having gone into the walls. The children were growing up. They grew up without him. They didn't need him.
The closer that Mirabel got to becoming that beautiful young woman in his vision, Bruno dreaded the day that Casita would break. He knew that he couldn't stop it whether he had left or not, only that he didn't want Mirabel to be punished for something that hadn't happened yet.
Nonetheless, regret plagued him every day. They thought he wasn't there to see their tears, but he saw them. He heard their cries. But they were all trapped here. His only wish was for Casita to crush him when it fell.
He still wished that Casita had crushed him.
Bruno hadn't even realized that his breathing was coming in harsh gasps until a pair of arms wrapped around him, and a gentle breath warmed his neck. Lips calmed his shivering back.
"Sereno moreno, querido." Aya's whisper silenced the screaming demons in his head. Bruno could only hear his own breathing as she snuggled against him, draping her leg over his waist. Embarrassed but relieved, Bruno held her arm to his chest. She held him more tightly. She could feel her lips moving and her breath huffing against his nape. She was whispering. He could barely make out the words:
Tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, in virtute Dei, in infernum detrude satanam aliosque spiritus malignos.
Safe in his wife's embrace, Bruno let his agony wash over him one last time. Groaning, he mourned those lost years—his family so close but so far away. Aya cried with him. And then, all was calm. He kissed Aya's hand and drifted back to sleep.