"Loser."
"You should disappear, just like your Tío."
"Freak."
"It's her fault that Bruno left!"
"Weirdo."
"What good is a Madrigal without a gift?"
"Useless."
"She is ruining the magic!"
"Disappointment."
"You bring shame on the Madrigal name."
"Why do you think she didn't get a gift?"
"Mirabel, you're in the way."
"Mirabel, we're busy."
"Mirabel, go to your room."
"Mirabel, just stop."
"Mirabel, you are putting us behind."
Mirabel sat up quickly, doing her best not to break down. Voices echoed in Mirabel's head. She felt her body shift, doing her best to ignore the noise.
This wasn't fair.
She had done everything right… Hadn't she?
This wasn't fair.
Everyone in the house was always angry.
Abuela was especially angry and kept separating her and Camilo.
Tía Pepa couldn't stop raining. The only time she did was when there was a hurricane or two.
All of her friends stopped talking to her.
Every time Mirabel went into town she was met with sheltered whispers and pointed fingers.
And worst of all? Tío Bruno was gone.
All she had wanted was to get a door. All she had wanted was to be as special as the rest of her family, to make them proud.
But she didn't.
If she did, none of this would be happening.
Mirabel sat up in her bed, reaching for her glasses. Maybe she could make her own door.
Maybe she could have a second chance.
Maybe she could be just as special as the rest of her family.
She hopped out of bed, walking towards her desk that sat just near the end of her bed. The small girl did her best to be as quiet as she could. She opened one of the drawers that held all of her coloured markers and crayons.
"Hey, Casita?" She whispered, looking up towards the roof. "Can you turn the lights on a little bit?" She asked. The house then turned on a dim light. "Thanks, Casita." She smiled, she was grateful for the sentient house. Through this entire ordeal, Casita was there.
Mirabel walked towards the wall where Camilo's bed used to be. They moved it out not too long after he moved into his new room.
Mirabel missed having Camilo as her little roommate. Without him there it felt empty, less fun. That didn't stop him returning every so often to have a sleepover with the girl. He had slept in the room the night she didn't… she failed to… He slept in the room with her on 'that' night.
She sighed as she thought of how to do this.
A doorframe.
First, she needed a doorframe.
She began to draw the lines for the frame, it wasn't too long after she asked Casita for a stool to help her get higher.
Once she was done she thought about the things that every door had.
They all have the curly outline. She thought to herself.
She opened the door to the nursery slowly, doing her best to avoid the loud creak that rang out on occasion.
Mirabel tiptoed out of the room, peaking at the rest of the family's doors, doing her best to memorise the pattern.
The girl's heart clenched as she gazed at the doors. She wished she had a door, a real door. Tears burned behind her eyes, she quickly swiped them away.
Just as Mirabel went to turn back to her room she noticed the light in the kitchen and dining room were on.
Mamá must still be up. She thought, reminding herself to be extra cautious. She could hear someone down there with her. They didn't sound too happy.
Ignoring the voices, she looked at the doors once more, ingraining the image in her head.
She approached the outline and continued drawing in the brightest yellow marker she had. She added her name at the top, writing much slower than usual, desperate to get it just right.
After all the details were finished, she worked on drawing herself, front and centre, a large smile on her face. In the background, she added the candle and a few butterflies surrounding her.
Mirabel hopped off of the stool she was on and admired her newest creation.
"What do you think, Casita?" She looked around, waiting for an answer. The tiles began to bounce enthusiastically. "I like it too." Mirabel giggled.
The small happiness that was forming was quickly cut off when she heard her mother yelling from downstairs.
"She's five Mamá!"
Mirabel flinched, her Mamá was talking about her. She had never heard her mother sound so upset, not even when Mirabel was being really bad.
"How many times do I have to say this to you, Julieta? She is hurting the family name."
Abuela.
Her Mamá was fighting with Abuela.
"Do you honestly care what people of the town think?" Julieta pressed. "They are the fools for speaking so badly about a child. My child." She defended.
"It is our duty to use our gifts to better the Encanto, Julieta. How is Mirabel going to do that? Huh?"
"She doesn't need a gift."
"These gifts reflect how special each and every one of us are." Abuela stated. "So what does that say about her?"
Those words hurt.
They burned.
Hearing her Abuela, her own family, talking about how un-special she was stung.
Mirabel did her best to pry her ears away from the conversation, but they were stuck. Glued to the negative words.
Is this how Dolores feels? Mirabel felt bad for her prima if that was true.
Mirabel climbed back into bed, taking off her glasses, leaving her markers and crayon in a small pile below the drawing. She hoped that maybe laying under her covers, in the comfort of her own bed, would somehow make the arguing voices go away. That maybe she would drift off into a better place.
Dream land.
Tío Bruno would always talk about dream land whenever she said goodnight.
Get to dream land safe.
His soft, gravely and comforting voice played in her head.
Suddenly, just like that, tears filled her eyes.
She missed him. She missed her Tío.
He was always good in these situations, opting to listen or offering a hug.
Now more than ever she needed him. And he disappeared.
Was that her fault too?
Before her tiny mind could wander into those deep, dark, scary places, her door opened.
Mirabel looked up, slightly squinting from her blurred vision.
She had expected her Mamá or even her Papá. If she was really lucky, Tío Bruno.
She didn't expect Dolores.
Mirabel reached for her glasses once again, looking at her prima as she put them on.
She saw her standing in the doorway, gazing at her with wide, teary eyes, her hands clasped together.
She let out a small 'hoo' as she realised the five-year-old was awake.
Before either could say or do anything a loud slam was heard.
"That's my daughter you are talking about!" Mirabel could hear her Mamá yell.
Mirabel teared up hearing her Mamá so angry. Her Mamá was angry and upset because of her.
The emotions suddenly became too much for the small girl to handle.
She had been trying so hard to be happy, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would cheer everyone else up too.
Hot tears streamed down the girl's face, causing the eleven-year-old Dolores to rush to her side, pulling her into a tight hug.
All Mirabel could seem to do was mess things up. Make everyone upset.
This was all her fault.
"Mirabel, I am so sorry." Dolores whispered as she tightened her embrace. Mirabel pushed the girl aways, swiping her tears away.
"Get away from me." She said, confusing her cousin. "I'm bad luck." she frowned, her voice breaking.
"Mirabel, no…" Dolores tried to protest.
"All I do is mess things up. I'm being bad." Mirabel cried as her hand formed into fists. "I'm not special." She said, her voice slowly getting louder. "I wasn't special enough for a gift or a door."
Mirabel looked at the wall across the room. Dolores' eyes followed, They landed on the image on the wall. Her heart squeezed.
Tears began to fill Dolores' eyes now, She had known that Mirabel was upset not getting a gift or her door, rightfully so, but this? No child should ever feel like this.
This wasn't fair.
Mirabel looked at her older cousin, waiting for her response to the picture. She couldn't help but look away in shame when they returned to her, eyes full of pity and sadness.
Sadness that Mirabel had put there.
This was her fault.
She had upset her prima.
This was her fault.
All she was doing was upsetting her family.
This was her fault.
She wasn't special enough.
This was her fault.
She wasn't good enough.
This was her fault.
She wasn't enough.