Mi amor ~ Camilo Madrigal x oc~

10

Staring at my self in the mirror I finally started to notice the small bruises I did remember getting. The scars I didn't recall putting on my skin. When you really look at your self in the mirror you start to see the little things. I don't mean looking in the mirror but really looking at just your self. Studying every inch. Like how my nose was slightly crooked and one shoulder was a little higher then the other.

Titling my head my slight smile fell into a frown, was this my curse. To feel other peoples pain and hold their scars like they are my own. Self destruction other then the destruction of others. My smile came back as I looked away from the mirror. I wouldn't be hurting anyone else. I could live freely without having to worry about hurting others. But that was just a dream. A dream I wanted to badly to be a reality. With a curse that has hurt so many I shouldn't have been shocked as to what would happen within the next few hours.

I fixed my ivory skirt looking back at the mirror. Pulling up the ruffled sleeves of my rose patterned top I laughed a little. I liked wearing this dress most often to formal events. Tilting my head I studied the pattern laughing a little. I could have worn this to the gifting but it didn't feel right.

To wear something so beautiful on a day that Abuela seemed to in some way mourn. Sighing I reached for my brush running it through my hair, today too was a day of mourning. Except not for a curse but for one plagued by it.

Today was the day we remember my father for who he really was not a runaway but a good strong person. A person I couldn't see. I only could fixate on the image of his back as he walked away. The cry's that would be heard the next morning. I was the only one who knew dad was going to leave. I still remember the kiss he left on my forehead.

I was only barely ten years old and we had just moved to Encanto. Sofia and I where still sleeping on mattresses on the floor our things in trunks and boxes. The creek of the door filled my ears. I hadn't slept the three nights we had been at Abuela's. I missed home, we had moved to the near other side of Columbia. From the busy city streets to a jungle surrounded village.

I was ten years old torn away from my friends, and soon to be fatherless. He was the only person I believed that could understand me and I never understood why he left. My gray eyes met my fathers own as he held a smile. It wasn't very bright other then the oil lamp he held in his hand. His lips quivered as he spoke, "Ey mi amor,   you should be asleep by now. What would your mother say."

I laughed a little the child like glow still in my eyes, "That a growing girl needs her rest." Honestly I wasn't a growing girl. I wasn't short but once I got taller around eleven I just stopped growing in height. He pushed the hair off of my forehead, "You where always so special..." I was confused my brows furrowed as he spoke in a soft whisper.

At first I didn't see the tears in his eyes until the glint of his tears sparkled in the lamp light. My father was a beautiful man and even when I was little I was proud to be compared to him. A pride I soon after he left lost. His voice shook as he spoke, "So much like me in your eyes, your mannerisms." He tapped my nose causing me to giggle, "In your nose."

Pulling up the blanket he patted it tucking me in, "And in your heart. Encanto will give you opportunities like I could only wish. But this is not my home. I will only hold you back. Some day this curse will be lifted and your life will flourish." I will always love my father but even now I hate him my words I wished had been harsh where soft, "Like the flowers in Mami's garden."

The longer he sat there the more forced his smile seemed, "Just like the flowers Valentina." I knew about the curse from a young age and when he said my name I knew something was wrong. A pit of guilt drove into my stomach. He only called me Valentina when he was angry or worried. He left a kiss on my forehead muttering under his breath, "Que seas bendecida con un don y no con una maldición hija mía. ( May you be blessed with a gift and not a curse my daughter.)"

I puffed my cheeks as he stood up starting to walk out the door, "Papi?" He stopped for a moment not looking back at me, "Hmm?" A smile grew on my face, "I wanna be like you when I grow up." Ever since I was little I wanted to make him feel better. He was always so sad and it hurt me to watch him spiral into the depression that I thought caused him to leave.

His voice cracked as I watched a glistening tear fall in the lamp light, "buenas noches mi hija." I never got a goodbye only a good night. Which he closed the door before I could respond too. Now five years later I walk down the steps to meet my family to walk an empty grave with my fathers name on it. I guess for them it was easier to believe he was dead then having ran away and given up on us.

For a while I loved my father but now I hate him. For making me grieve the fact that he lived on without us. I hate him for the fact that I'm some way I still loved him. Within hours my curse would prove it's self to be that a curse in no way a gift. Even in his "death" my father still took away my hope. A hope I no longer have but I long for the high of.