Fly High, Butterfly

Chapter Thirteen

Bruno is not paying attention when it happens.

He's sitting on the patio, enjoying the way the afternoon sun hits his skin and the wind messes with his hair. He's relaxed, a sensation similar to happiness settling down deep inside his stomach.

It's been a while since he felt so at peace, so comfortable with himself and the environment around. A few meters from him, his sobrinos argue and joke about something he can't really pinpoint.

Mirabel and Camilo are teenagers, similar in age, so it's only natural for them to fool around. The conversation escalates in volume, but Bruno continues to ignore them, choosing to close his eyes and smile softly, lips barely stretched on his face.

The problem comes when he opens his eyes back again.

Camilo is no longer Camilo. Towering over Mirabel, there's another person. He's shapeshifting into a figure Bruno cannot decipher, until his sobrino turns around and Bruno sees the vivid green glow in those big, deep, unsettling eyes.

It's him.

Camilo is shapeshifting into him.

The figure is almost unrecognizable to him. Bruno sees a man, tall, long limbs and skeletal fingers. He sees a mess of dark hair, a deviant smile and an almost feral look on a gaunt, elongated face. But what makes him shiver deep inside and press deeper in his body are those eyes. Hollow, devoid of any emotion, shining green like a bad augury.

Green. Bruno closes his eyes again and senses a headache coming. Those green eyes are the same he used to stare at, everyday. They were the clear sign of another vision coming, of more bad news he would be the bearer of.

That shade of green, he loathed it. He could see that green light reflecting inside the disappointed glare of his mamá, reflected inside the scared and hostile pupils of the people of the town.

Bruno tries to stay silent, to calm his breathing, but he must have let out some kind of sound because Mirabel and Camilo stop and turn to him.

"Tío?"

When Camilo steps forward, Bruno finds himself quickly crawling backwards. That tall, lanky figure looks down on him, that vibrant glare piercing his skin.

That is him. That... horrifying thing in front of him... That nightmare...

It is him.

He is ....

A monster.

Bruno stands up in a rush and runs. Ignoring the yells and calls from his sobrinos, Bruno sprints all he can until he reaches the paint on the hallway. It is useless, Casita no longer contains any hole in the walls for him to hide and rot away.

Almost on his knees, he begs. Please, just please, a place to disappear, a place to hide and breathe, a place to simply break down away from his familia.

Casita listens to him. Directing him through the halls, he reaches a room at the back of the house. It is dark inside, full of rice and flour bags, some eggs and milk bottles neatly piled on the shelves.

The storage room. Great. At least, here he is alone.

Bruno sinks down, allows his legs to come up to his chest and hugs them, hiding his head behind his knees. His long hair obscures his vision, making it easier to close his eyes and breath.

Una. Dos. Tres veces. In and out. Slowly.

To no avail.

His breaths are too short, too fast paced. He feels a splitting headache coming, and he's glad that the room is dark, because his migraines always hurt like hell if there were any light around. At this point, something wet and cold slithers from his cheeks, gets lost somewhere between his beard and his neck.