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Camilo loved it when his entire family got together for one hot day in the summer, just to end up drunk and crying; it was always his favorite part to watch the adults go at it. But everything got better when he could sneak away and raid his aunt’s liquor cabinet. Not once at her house did Camilo stop himself from getting shitfaced, that was the only time they’d let it slide anyway; even if Pepa chewed him out for it right after breaking down to her sister.
His entire family is a mess and Camilo knows it, he just wishes the drama could go on for longer than one night; he’d literally kill to watch what happened two summers ago with Luisa and Isabel.
Camilo could never get the image of Luisa swinging her sister around by the hair out of his head whenever he attended one of these “parties.” That of which he always chose to call “cry-cry fests” cause that’s what it always fucking felt like; just everyone breaking down and leaving with eight new rumors floating around their empty skulls; it’s true, every Madrigal hates each other. There are no exceptions, even Antonio began to despise a few people; having told Pepa to go fuck herself the other day. And Camilo started to wonder if he learned those words from him.
But there was no time to think about that! He’s going to be the life of this party whether the adults would put up with it or not, and Camilo’s first order of business was to get hammered. That’s how the fun always starts, right?
And right when entering Julieta’s house, Camilo rushed to the basement. Saying a few mumbled “hello’s” to the relatives he passed. But now he was completely headset on getting down to that liquor cabinet, it was the only thing on his mind since there's no better way to cope with Bruno’s screaming and Pepa’s crying than with a few stinging shots. He hungered for it like a starving man; as he was a self-described “alcoholic.” Like Camilo even knew what being one entailed. He’s just trying so hard to be “edgy” as his mother often puts it; even if she knows it annoys the shit out of him.
Though Camilo soon forgot about it, seeing he was too busy sifting through all of Julieta’s cabinets to care about anything else at the moment. But scoffed when he was met with only one bottle of honey flavored whiskey; that shit always tastes like perfume or scented hand sanitizer. Though something is better than nothing – as Mirabel always said – . Nevertheless, Camilo slammed back just as much as he normally would; swinging the back door open and walking out into the crowd right after.
“Camilo is here! Everyone better pay their respects!” Camilo knows how douchey it is to act as cynical as he does. But there's nothing funnier than watching his cousins all turn toward him with annoyed looks on their faces. And Luisa, who stood only feet away from Camilo, wasn't an exception to this fact.
“Shut up,” Luisa stared at him for a moment, his eyes instantly spotting the glass she held in her hands – that cup was probably filled to the brim with vodka, fucking alcoholic – then spat those two words out with all the vileness she could muster. But all Camilo did was roll his eyes; shifting from side to side on his feet with that ever present goofy smile spreading from each ear.
And all he did was stand there for a moment, like he was intently thinking about what he’d respond with, “you’re just mad that I’m better than you.” Camilo paused, then thrust his hips forward in an attempt to make these next words really hit the mark, “and hung like a thirty-year-old man.”
“Knock it off, you two!” Pepa, who happened to overhear them arguing; rolled her eyes and immediately walked over to smack Camilo in the back of the head. Earning a confused look as well as a half-grin when she pulled him off to the side, away from the rest of their family. “Come on, we don’t speak like that!” Pepa looked down at her son with worry in her eyes; though the hand she set on Camilo’s shoulder was soon shrugged off as he began walking away. But she still did her best to get through to her son, even calling out to him when he wanted nothing to do with her, ‘especially not in front of family!”
“Ah come on,” he turned on his heels, “blow me.” Camilo never spoke to Pepa like this unless he was tipsy; so she must know, and it was pretty apparent that she did. Since the look on her face was already reading annoyance and disbelief. Like it always does – no wonder uncle Bruno comments on the expression all the time – as it pisses him off just as much as it enrages Camilo.
Speaking of Bruno, Camilo couldn’t help but think about him often; maybe it was the way the guy liked to watch him sleep, or the way he never stopped staring at him whenever they were near each other. And in all honesty, Camilo always thought he was a creep, Bruno never sat right with him ever since he was introduced back into this godforsaken family. The looks he gave to Camilo frequently gave him the chills in return, and not for a moment ceased to make Bruno look like a wolf hunting for its next meal.
All the while, even at this moment, Bruno had a hungry gaze in his eyes; spotting Camilo all the way from across the yard. The man was sitting in a lawn chair up against the stump of a tree with a beer in his hand, as if he hadn’t drunk enough at this point.
So, to stand his ground, Camilo stared right back at his uncle; causing Bruno to look away once they made eye contact. He never did that before, so why start acting all shy now? Camilo wanted to ask him that so bad, and finally he would get the chance; as the whiskey enhanced his already high confidence. So, he didn’t hold back when it came to walking over to his uncle; and an expression spread across Bruno’s face at the approach. Camilo couldn’t tell if the man was nervous or pleased, and he really didn’t care either way.
“Why do you always stare at me like that?” The teen said this under his breath as he walked up, only stopping when he was standing a good amount of feet away from his uncle. But those words prompted Bruno to look up at him with that familiar look on his face.
“How exactly do I look at you? My sweet nephew,” he put quite the emphasis on the last part of his sentence as he then raised the bottle he held to his lips. Taking note of the way Camilo went statue-still before regaining his composure and rolling his eyes with his teeth gritting.
“That’s child molester shit, dude,” Camilo wasn’t afraid to put it simply now, he’s just so done with Bruno’s shit, “ah, and you look like one too!” He decided to rub a bit of salt in the wound, all the while he waited for his uncle to cause a big scene with his yelling and fits; but nothing happened, he too stayed unmoving. . . And silent.
And through his silence, Bruno seemed to go for something in his pocket; but hesitated for a moment, his expression going to one of worry. But instantly back to happy – or what Camilo called ‘creepy’ – as he then began speaking, “is that so. . . Well. . . Could a child molester do this?” Bruno didn’t do anything, though, he just paused; still hesitating for whatever it was he seemed to want to grab so badly.
“Do what?” Camilo clicked his tongue against his top teeth as he was now becoming annoyed. Though he couldn’t deny that the way Bruno reached for whatever it was in his pocket made him feel a little sick. Like his guts were trying to tell him something; but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to leave the situation.
Now Bruno, after waiting a few seconds with his hand set on his pocket, spoke up in a question Camilo would soon regret giving an answer to, “Well, do you want to see something cool?”
“Yeah, whatever,” the teen shrugged his shoulders and shifted from each of his feet once again, but not out of the tipsiness creeping up his spine, nor was it a dance to the face-paced music that was blasting from speakers. This was a silent cry for help, and all he could do was stare down at his uncle, who had this huge, eerie smile on his face. The fucker always made his skin crawl; and the feeling only got worse when Bruno finally took hold of what he seemed so desperate to get his hands onto.
It was all a blur, Camilo could hardly make sense of what it was until Bruno had brought it up to his face; biting down onto the metal barrel and snarling with an eyebrow raised. Like this was all a show he was putting on, and Camilo was front and center, completely unable to stop it; completely out of the loop until a loud bang was heard. It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but with the blood that spread over his torso, hands, and face did Camilo understand the situation he was in. And it all moved so fast, even as he looked down at his uncle’s blow out head he didn’t quite get it, that is until he heard his mother scream bloody murder. Racing over in a moment's time; but everything was still so slow to Camilo, the limp body of Bruno making his throat close up and his eyes water,
Though all he could see through the tears was the distorted image of something green, something bloody, fallen over in the chair he once sat in. And as Camilo’s mother grabbed him by the waist, pulling him to the side; there were only a few things he could say, all the while he struggled in her arms.
“Oh my god!” Camilo was finally grasping at the world around him with fingers that were too slick with ichor to make any sense of it all, “oh my fucking god!” Even if he didn’t like the guy, or really know him at all, Camilo spilled tears that day. And he still doesn’t know what to do about it, or how to make sense of it. Even months later, he blames himself. And Pepa can’t stop crying; this is fucked, so fucked. Camilo will never be able to take away those last few words Bruno would now have playing back in his ruptured skull as he fell down to Hell.
It eats at Camilo every day, and all he can say is, “I hope I die.”