The Forgotten...? ••• 𝐂.𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐥

(18) 𝐀lleviating stress?

Mirabel's POV:

"Wait, I still don't understand." Camilo awkwardly grinned, staring intently at Mirabel as she slapped her palm to her forehead.
"Ugh! Camilo, she doesn't know her. For some weird reason, she just dropped the story when she thought Lucia was a new person in town." She shook her head as she made her way into Casita, on her way to her room for some much-needed rest. Investigating the disappearance of a child that ran away over a decade ago was near impossible, but with clues, it was easier. Just, so much more work following the suggestions and hunches that the small group of three came up with.

"Maybe, you were just asking her wrong, Mira. Let me have a crack at it. Isabella loves me, she'll be honest." Camilo chuckled, walking away with his overly confident strides mocking Mirabel as he made his way to the crop fields.
"...I'm Camilo...I'm so cocky and arrogant and I think everyone loves me even though I'm annoying and get on everyone's nerves." The young girl mimicked, gesturing her hands in silly ways as she copied her cousin. She continued to mumble incoherent insults to the boy even though he was nowhere near, putting more distance between them, even.

But Mirabel's movements were cut short when she hit me, she stumbled back a little both because of the collision and to be polite and apologies at a safe distance.
"A-ah, I'm sorry! Sorry, sorry!" She profusely said, staring down at the ground feeling an overwhelming sense of nervousness before she perked up and saw-
"Tia, you ok. I'm sorry... Uh- did you drop anything?" Mirabel rushed, trying to not add any more stress or thought to her overthinking mind like she usually does.

"Don't worry about me, Mirabel. I'm fine." The older woman confirmed, trying to blow away the grey cloud looming over her head. There were light rumbles and tiny flashes of light within. Lightning, Mirabel thought, did she make her tía mad?
"I'm sorry. Are you ok- are you mad!" Mira asked anxiously, unaware of her aunt's jittery movements or the intense atmosphere that clouded the sky's outside. The young girl waited for an answer but was only met with the sight of the clouds becoming more grey, heavier and darker.

To put an end to this awful staring that one another were doing to one another, Mirabel decided to speak up and be helpful to her aunt. The boxes she was carrying didn't look like the lightest thing in the world.
"H-here let me help you with those boxes, Pepa." The young girl suggested, moving closer to the other women's hands extended prepared to take one of the boxes. But a loud crack of thunder accompanied by a harsh gale of wind formed around the two and because of the proximity, one of the wild bolts of lightning struck her fingers just before she could grab hold of it. Mirabel let out a sharp yelp, retracting her hands from the box and clutched her injured fingers to her chest. Uttering 'ow's' and whimpers, back away slightly, curling in on herself as the tornado sort of wind got stronger.

"Mirabel!? Are you alright!?" Her aunty screamed, almost dropping the boxes as she placed them on the floor and ran over to her niece.
"No-no, I'm alright. Tía, I'm fine. Look, it only got my fingers, no harm done." Mirabel informed, pulling her hands away from her chest and placing them in front of her, palms up and spreading her fingers to show them. The redness that lingered on her fingertips, was barely visible as Mirabel kept wiggling them and attempting to distract her aunt from her minor injuries.
"Stop wiggling them. You're not alright, Mira. Give me a second, I'll go and get you one of Julieta's arepas' and you'll be feeling be-"

"N-no, no, no! It's fine, I'm fine. It doesn't even sting that much anymore." The 17-year-old girl couldn't have her aunty fussing over her, especially when all she needed was rest and possibly to find Dolores and tell her about the news she heard from Isabella. But knowing Dolores, she probably already knows.
"And-uh, you have to get those boxes moved to...u-um, somewhere." Mirabel was struggling to come up with a polite way to decline her, but the more she talked, the more the clouds above her Tía's head became tinted with blacks, greys and that's when Pepa stopped her constant worrying murmurs.
"...Yeah-Yeah. I need to go Mirabel. Make sure you get one of your ma's arepas'." The aged women rushed, dashing to the stacked boxes on the floor and advising Mirabel strictly before making her way upstairs.

Mirabel stored at her aunt for s few seconds, watching her make her way up the stairs whilst she cradled her hands back to her chest. Deep in thought, Mirabel soon blinked herself out of her daze when she heard something. The light pitter-patter of rain were all Mirabel heard and she turned, slowly, to look at the ajar door.
"It's raining...?" She whispered to herself, it was sunny moments ago. She mouthed the word 'what' as she thought about her aunty. The only person who can change the weather in a matter of seconds. Looking back to see her tía on the way to her room, she clutched the boxes of unknown materials with great strength, crumpling them. Before Mirabel could make her way upstairs to comfort or talk to her tía, or maybe just help her move the box like she wanted to minutes before, the door was already closed.

Confused and worried, not to mention exhausted, Mirabel tried to rack her brain over why her tía was upset or what was in the boxes in the first place. Pepa didn't want her to touch them, never mind see what was in them. Her aunty could be upset at times, but Mirabel had rarely, ever seen her have multiple emotions clouding her kind and the town. Closing her eyes, and rubbing them with her tingly fingers, she sighed and grimaced, seeing her family upset or even scared was something she hated. She knew something was wrong but with all, that's happened today, with Lucia's room and Isabella's information. It was just too much pressure and stress for the young adult. None of what happened today has alleviated any of her stress, not taking a walk through town, talking to her family, breakfast or even coming back home.

"Oh, Pepa...what's wrong?" She asked the women eventhough Mirabel knew she wouldn't hear her. Looking away from the forming puddles outside the door whilst she made her way to her bedroom. Not having the mental energy to comprehend or even think about possibilities, but when she woke up she vowed to herself that the mystery of her tía's sudden anxiousness would be solved, along with—hopefully—another clue to help her and the others, about Lucia.

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Word count: 1174