Note: Set between the last two chapters.
Camilo tucks his head against his cousin's chest, squeezing his eyes shut, and fighting against every cry of pain that wants to force its way out of him.
For every bump and jolt that Luisa can't avoid brings with it a string of harried apologies through clenched teeth.
She can't afford to slow down and Camilo knows this.
Unfortunately, he remains conscious for the entirety of the trip.
Which means he feels every single one of those missteps.
He keeps his hand pressed tightly to his side- his tía's gift meant injuries were seldom, if ever, deadly- but she still had insisted on them knowing the most basic of first aid.
That included keeping pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding.
Except the red stain is spreading across his ruana and he's starting to feel lightheaded and nauseous.
"Luisa," he chokes, gripping her sleeve. When she falters, mouth twisted in concern, he dry heaves.
The contortion only brings more pain and he cries out, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
Is he dying?
Is this what dying feels like?
He thinks this might be what dying feels like.
"We need to get him to tía." Dolores catches up. She's out of breath, but her eyes are wide and frantic when they land on her brother.
It makes Camilo's stomach tie up in knots. Realistically, he knows none of this is his fault, but… it kind of is, isn't it?
He's the reason his cousin and his sister are so worried.
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything." Dolores exchanges a glance with Luisa. Whatever passes between them, Luisa nods and picks up her pace again.
Camilo shuts his eyes and tries to endure the rest of the trip.
/
Luisa bursts into the kitchen, her precious cargo cradled protectively against her chest.
Dolores has already darted up the stairs, fetching both her parents.
Camilo's eyes are screwed shut and his face has already lost so much color. There's so much blood staining his clothes… It's looking really, really bad.
Her parents are standing close together. Her father has his arm around her mother's waist, leaning in tenderly.
They're clearly sharing a moment and, under any other circumstances, Luisa would feel terrible for interrupting them, but not today.
"Mamá," she gasps. "Camilo, he…!" She falters. How does she bring herself to say this? How does she say that it was someone in their Encanto who did this?
But her mother doesn't need her explanation and has already pulled away from her father and hurried to her side.
Augustín lingers, ready to help if needed, but understanding that this is his wife's area.
Her face pales considerably when she sees the blood, but she keeps her composure. "Camilo, can you hear me?" She strokes his hair back from his forehead.
A small nod is her only answer. His breathing is labored and Julieta's brows tighten in concern. "Let me see him." She puts her hand on Camilo's arm and gives it a squeeze. "I'm going to lift your ruana and take a look. Is that alright?"
Camilo nods again. "Yes," he whispers.
Julieta nods, biting her lip as she slowly peels the ruana from his side, fingers gently probing the torn fabric of his shirt to get a look at the wound.
She exhales softly.
"Augustín, Luisa, let's get him to the couch."
She doesn't ask about what happened, although Luisa suspects she wants to. It's obvious, of course, that what happened to Camilo wasn't an accident.
Someone hurt him. Deliberately.
It's something Luisa is still struggling to wrap her mind around, because why would anyone want to hurt her sweet, playful cousin? What has he ever done to any of them?
Her mother doesn't seem outwardly affected by the same concerns weighing Luisa down.
Instead, her focus is on the situation at hand and what needs to be done about it.
It's times like this that Luisa finds herself truly admiring her mother's strength of will.
Julieta's eyes are filled only with worry when they meet Luisa's own. "My arepas haven't finished," she says, tone hushed.
Luisa nods and tries to pretend her stomach doesn't roil at the words. Her mother almost always has arepas ready for those who need them, but she'd spent the day in town and… apparently, she hasn't had the time to make more before she burst in.
Her mother is amazing, yes, but she has her limits.
She tries hard not to begrudge any of those arepas to the townspeople who had needed them. None of them had any idea this was going to happen.
Camilo is going to be fine- he's not going to expire in the time it takes her mother to finish her cooking.
There's no way he won't be fine.
Because that's how this family works.
Luisa protects and, what she can't protect, her mother heals.
Always.
That doesn't take away from the fact that she wishes she could have done more. That she should have been there to protect him before that man even had the chance to attack him.
As it stands, it's pure chance that she had been helping Dolores run errands, that they'd been near enough to do anything about it in the first place.
If Dolores had been back at Casita, then she may have wound up listening to her hermanito die.
That's a thought that shakes her to her core.
Dios, she could have killed that man when she'd seen him standing over her baby cousin.
She doesn't want to have to hurt anyone- her gift is meant to help people, not hurt them- but seeing Camilo like that?
It had simply been too much.
Don't cry. Don't cry.
Her bottom lip trembles and she takes a deep breath.
What is her tía always saying?
Clear skies.