[DISCONTINUED] CAPTIVATED || CAMILO M.

camilo_2.

The Destreza residence was chaotic. The last time Camilo was invited here was on your seventh birthday, it was also the last moment he saw you and your father bond so dearly.

It greatly contrasted with what he was seeing now.

The living room was a mess, like his Mamá entered here and vented out her rage as a hurricane made sure her anger had souveniers. There was shattered mirrors and vases, clothes scattered around the dark-toned magenta carpet, walls stained with alcohol with broken bottles of beer rested on every corner. It was a miracle that Adriana managed to escspe, but she left you alone to get help.

"YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" A loud shatter alerted the shapeshifter's ears, the sound originating from the floor above him. "I TOLD YOU YOUR MOTHER'S NEVER COMING BACK SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Camilo could barely make out your whimpers, indicating that you were indeed the recipient of the man's harsh words and swearing. He opened the front door, signalling Luisa, his Papá, and his tío Augustine that it was clear to enter the first floor.

He hesitated, staring at the steps before another crash startled the people inside.

"AND WHAT'S THIS BULLSHIT? YOU WANT TO BE AN ARCHITECT? LEARN TO BE FUCKING USEFUL FOR YOUR FATHER, YOU TWAT." Your cries started to gradually increase audibly, making the shapeshifter waiting by the stairs shake vigorously in fear.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, sending an encouaging smile. "Go on, hombrecíto. We're just behind you."

And with careful steps, the young boy climbed the staircase. His mind trying desperately calm down so he could use his gift properly.

This plan was going to fail miserably, he kept thinking the worst possible outcomes in his head. The adult man refused to be an even an inch away from you, rewarding you with the official award of being his punching bag or stress ball.

Camilo didn't even want to associate himself with your father in the first place. The Madrigals would keep to themselves either way if it wasn't for their pity for you. Who can resist a child practically begging for help? His Abuela felt a strong sense of obligation to offer you a hand, a small drop of hope, a glimmer of freedom, only to move on with their own lives with a newly achieved recognition and respect from the town.

No one would dare anger your father, his sharp tongue the root of all the fear. He finds a way to dig into your deepest insecurities and shake you so easily without a second thought. He did the same thing to Luisa, who easily found his words the truth and nothing else but the truth, to which she responded to by going home after finishing with the donkeys and sobbing the afternoon away.

He reached a corridor with four doors, which he could only guess was the rooms that belonged to you, Adriana, your mother, and your father. His feet glued itself unto the floor as his frame looked so small in comparison to his fear.

Your sobs and multiple pleads directed to your father to stop were incoherent from outside the wodden door. Camilo didn't wish to even guess what you were trying so hard to get out of your throat. He didn't even want to think of the torture and pain you were feeling, trapped behind that door with your father.

It was undeniably gruesome to watch your energetic and kind personality contort into a mess of sobs and blood wounds while struggling to even stay conscious at the corner of the room.

"Now who's the fucker that doesn't know how to knock?" Your father heard the door's movements, his rage spiking past its limits. He grabbed your hair in his fist and threw you across the room effortlessly, his body covered in veins that bulged by the force he placed upon them to inflict his vile emotions and thoughts to wreck your frail body. He turned, facing the Madrigal who morphed into an all too familiar face that managed to strike the man silent.

Your small body took the last of your energy to peek at your savior, a word barely coming out of your bloody lips.

"Mamá ... ?"

Before the confrontation unfolded, you had given up and left the two males alone to settle their dispute among themselves. Camilo unable to move or lift a finger, it was almost unbelievable how your hope was pinned on this shaking boy.

He couldn't bear to watch you for more than five seconds. You were the first one he would look for among the town every morning, his favorite person to tease and fluster. Seeing you so fragile like this broke his heart in a way he never expected to happen.

This was just unfair.

Camilo placed out the sense of obligation he held upon you, taking this as a personal matter. He couldn't stand by any longer as you were mistreated by the person you gave many chances to fix himself. No, he wasn't going to let you get hurt.

"Marco," His voice cruelly dripped with toxin as his face crunched in disgust at the very sight of the man in front of him. "How could you do this to your own daughter?"

He took the shape of your mother.

Your mother was protecting you yet again from your suffering.

All Camilo could think about was how much he wanted to grab you then and there, making a run for it. Fuck, obligation.