HE SHOULDA GOTTEN MORE SCREEN TIME
And there isn't enough of these to my liking
Nothing but the plot is mine
All credits to the creators of Encanto
All spanish words in this were translated through google. If they are incorrect, then please mention...
Camilo pov I tell my sister a joke, and she laughs. Today has been alright so far, I talked to a lot of people and haven't really had any bad thoughts.
But all good things come to an end.
I walk away from Dolores and see a snaped, broken in the middle pen. Me and Mirabel fight over it, which the familia thought was hilarious. I, of course, won. I walk to my room, victory pen in my palm.
I feel the broken part poke into my skin. I feel the urge to just poke harder into my skin, and grab it with my other hand. As I walk up the stairs, I look at it thoughtfully. I start off with some normal pokes, which leave indents on my pointer finger, but soon enough I start using my nail with it to make a small smile on my pointer finger.
I look at the smile, which is slowly going away. I frown a bit, now in the general area of my room. I start writing "haha" on my middle finger. Once im done with the secknd ha I notice that the first one is going away. I get angry. I really want to feel the pain on my hand and for it to stay.
I open my door and walk in, closing the door behind me. I poke my finger a couple more times with it before getting an idea.
I start with a normal line but go over it over, and over, and over. I go over it until it starts to bleed. As soon as I see the blood droplets, I stop. I notice the pain in my hand now and grimace. I look around, seeing if anyone is in my room looking at me.
I then continue with too smaller lines right over the bent, bleeding line. I go over it until it looks just like the first, long line. I stop and stare at my master piece. Its a smile. It doesn't hurt that much, I just focus on the smile. Its beautiful..
I then notice how wierd Im being. Today was a good day! Why am I doing this?? It just feels so good! I stand up off my bed that I didn't notice I was sitting on and clean up my room. The thought of what just happened not escaping my mind.
I sit back down and pick up the piece again. I only feel the urge to do it again. I grab the broken pen tighter and go over the lines again, perfecting them. I work on it until the cuts start bleeding agin. The pain hits me like a bus once I bend my wrist to look at it from another angle.
Why? Why do I keep doing this?? I put the broken pen in a drawer and use my sleeve to cover up the smile on the back of my hand. I just stare at it for a while before going down to dinner.
