An almost invisible bridge suddenly stretched out from the missing bridge and the young De Vil wasted no time in zipping down it till he came to the other end where the barrier was still intact; residents of the Isle had seen him approach and had gathered.
Revving the engine again Carlos prepared to enter the Isle; pressing the button again the bridge began to disappear from Auradon end.
The shimmering barrier around the Isle of the Lost rippled away, like a popped bubble, Carlos drove through the crumbling entrance way, scattering people like marbles.
With a final click the barrier was back in place and all connections were lost; Carlos De Vil was back on the Isle for good.
Carlos stashed his laptop away before properly looking around him; compared to Auradon everything looked murky, like a dirty lens, all the gawking people had a hungry, greedy look about them.
Nobody approached the motorbike, not seeming to recognise the young De Vil so he took the moment to get out of the town, knowing his mother would be in Bargain Castle since Maleficent had left.
Carlos sped across town, avoiding stalls, and people were throwing themselves out of his way; a part of him felt good.
Hell Hall came into view, looking an oil painting that got wet, all the lights were off and Cruella's car was gone; so the freckled teen carefully parked and finally took off the heated helmet.
The smell of stale water and mildew hit Carlos so hard he had to cover his nose before he was sick, inside Hell Hall was no different; mould was growing in all the corners, every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust and most of the windows were broken.
Carlos had almost forgotten how cold it had been in the house so he made his way to the living room where there was only a small crack in the window and a huge fire place.
Pulling as many musky smelling blankets and suspiciously stained pillows the young De Vil piled them all in front of the fireplace and, after rummaging around in drawers for a while in the dusty kitchen drawers for matches, he was able to light a fire.
The heat was a sharp contrast to what Carlos had been used to when he originally lived in Hell Hall; back then he's been banned from the living room and only had one blanket to keep warm.
Carlos wasn't particually tired, since he's laid aimlessly in bed for so long, so he just wrapped up in the blankets and stared into the crackling fire.
Before long the freckled teen dozed off, after all the pain and worrying Carlos had made it onto the Isle but his future there was uncertain.
The sharp slamming of a car door woke Carlos hours later and he struggled to detangle himself from the mountain of blankets before the front door banged open, followed by heavy heeled footsteps and a sharp breeze of cold air.
There in the doorway stood Cruella, time had not been kind to her; her pale skin had sagged from its bones, her black and white hair wilder than it's ever been and her lipstick stained teeth bared at him.
"what are you doing here?" Cruella snarled at him.
In a cold panic the young De Vil finally managed to escape the blankets to face his crazy eyed mother, panic twisting in his empty stomach, "I came back." He stated simply.
Cruella's bony face twisted, "why?"
For the longest moment Carlos couldn't think of just one reason why he had returned; he swallowed thickly "I, um, didn't fit in there so.." he cleared his throat, "I came back."
Immediately Cruella De Vil burst into her usual howling cackle, bending double and gasping for air, and when she finally got her composure back she lit a long handled cigarette.
"oh that is priceless!" Cruella gave another small cackle, "and you thought you'd be welcome with open arms."
Carlos blushed deep red, feeling stupid, he should have seen this coming, "I just thought maybe…"
Blowing out a huge plumb of smoke Cruella approached him with a cruel face, "listen here you little runt." Her yellow teeth bared, "you deserted and betrayed me." Cruella grabbed her small son by the front of his shirt, "and I will make you pay for it."
Still gripping Carlos by the shirt his mother dragged him from the warm living room to the main entrance, door still wide open, and flung him to the dirty floor.
"get cleaning." Cruella ordered, "I want to see my face in every surface!" and with that she tramped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut.
Carlos sat very still on the floor, feeling like a complete fool, trying not to panic because there was no way off the Isle unless someone came for him and the young De Vil couldn't see that happening.
Taking a deep breath the freckled teen stood, shivering from the cold, and fell back into the old routine he had been used to; he'd purposefully put himself in this situation and there was no escape.
The cleaning took much longer than expected since Carlos hadn't been there for the past year or so to clean it and he was just cleaning a window that was still intact when he heard his mother stomping downstairs.
"why aren't you done yet?" Cruella screeched.
Carlos flinched back, "it's really dirty." He muttered but his crazy mother heard him.
For a woman as skinny as she was Cruella had a powerful hit; she struck her son hard across the face and stabbed the pointed heel of her shoe into his bare calf.
Carlos bit back tears as his mother beat him across the head with her heavy handbag and she thankfully got tired to hitting him and announced that she was going out.
"keep cleaning, I want it spotless by the time I return." Cruella shouted as she pulled on her huge fur coat.
Gingerly picking himself off the floor, his calf burning but not bleeding, the young De Vil followed his mother to the door, "when will you be back?" he asked softly.
Cruella answered by slapping him again, her nails cutting his cheek, "that is none of your concern." And with a sweep of her coat she was out the door into the darkness.
When one chimed on the ancient grandfather clock Carlos dropped his cloth in exhaustion; he'd tried his best cleaning but around every turn there was more mess and it was getting too much.
He appeased his tired brain by reminding himself that even if the place was immaculate Cruella would find a reason to shout at him.
The fire in the living room had died but the room was still quite warm and the moment Carlos laid on the blankets he fell into an exhausted sleep.