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He didn’t need to be told why it was wrong for him to exist, he innately knew. Pepa and Julieta has gifts that served the community well. While Pepa’s moods controlled the weather and at points were – unreliable – there was an air of gratefulness and positivity towards her. Julieta, of course, was beloved by everyone.
Then there was him. Awkward. Unsociable. Cautious. Unsightly. There were many things that people called him. He tried to never let it get to him though, and a lot of times he found that when he tried to look back and remember – there was only black static. Nothing.
He supposed that’s where Hernando came in… and then much later Jorge, to deal with the crippling loneliness. They all served a purpose to keep ‘the body’ alive in a way. Bruno hated to admit that he, deep down, wished that he was a strong enough man to have dealt with everything as one singular person – that his mind didn’t break upon receiving his gift.
It also didn’t help that Hernando and Jorge became the peanut gallery in his head. Always making comments and having opinions, sometimes poking fun at him too (something that only humored him). It was great when they all lived in the walls and had specific routines and ‘jobs’.
Now that everyone was aware they were alive again – it was more of an inconvenience. Bruno didn’t mean they were inconveniencing him, they all were disrupting each other’s lives now.
What was ten years when Jorge fronts for the afternoons, Bruno experiences only night-time walks for a few months, Hernando goes on his daily snooping around for food and cleaning supplies, Jorge spends time washing the dishes while the family was out, Hernando patching the walls…. All three of them sitting down to watch telenovelas after the family he hide from went to bed? What was time then?
Now he was experiencing time again, and it was jarring.
-
The family was obviously going to notice at one point or another…
Mirabel had encouraged him to help with the building plans. He agreed, but only if he could draw them and then be out of sight when the carpenters came by.
“He literally knows Casita inside and out.” Mirabel had said, telling everyone that she and Bruno would be co-drawing the plans.
…
He was vaguely aware of tapping on paper.
“Tio?”
He blinked and looked up, Mirabel looked like she wanted him to say something. Oh yeah… she had been talking.
“You haven’t moved in – a really long time. I left to get some coffee and you’re still in the same position.”
He blinked a couple times, his head filled with cotton. “Oh. Si. Si. No worries.”
“Are you okay?”
Bruno blinked again, then he suddenly chuckled. “Oh! Si! Sometimes I just -,” he made a popping noise with his mouth. “Pop out for a bit! Haha! I had no idea I was zoned out so long. Lo siento.”
Another time Pepa had asked him to hold… something? He forgot, but she needed him to hold it while she dug through debris. Bruno felt the weight of whatever it was leave, but he didn’t fully register it. He did lower his hands though and wait for something else to happen.
“Brunito!” Fingers snapped in front of his face. “You alright, little bug?”
“Uh. Si. I thought you needed me for something? So I, hah, was just… being irresponsible I guess – waiting around! You know me! I’ll try harder I swear!”
“…You’ve been standing there for 30 minutes staring at nothing. Let’s go get you a drink… and something to eat Dios mio, you’re so thin.”
And OH. He ate food. His stomach was full – he knew he must have eaten.
He hoped whoever inside who was ‘fronting’ got to enjoy it because he certainly didn’t remember. Bruno sighed and reached for his tea, only to find his cup had been drained as well.
-
This didn’t stop the whispers though. Casita wasn’t rebuilt in a day, and it took a bit for the plans to be drafted. Hernando couldn’t help but listen to every little thing drifting through the air while their body was locked up as they were dissociated and stuck in their head.
“He’s going to jinx the plans.”
“No no… he’ll make the measurements off – not by much – a smidge – so it crumbles over time.”
“He’ll make a secret room where he can spy on the town.”
“No – it’ll be for Devil Worship.”
“Lime green eyes. It’s disgusting.”
“Evil. That’s the color of misfortune and bad luck.”
“Mirabel, please take him away from the plans, he’s deceiving all of you!”
If everyone else believes it… it MUST be true.
There it was. It was back again.
Sometimes the voices weren’t Hernando or Jorge, they were whispers of disgusting things he could do to himself to repent.
It would relentlessly bombard him with vile accusations and ways to… fix himself to make it better. Over and over on repeat, every single little thing he’d do it would come up with a way to lead back to death being the only answer or, at the very least, injuring himself.
-
In the past, if a prophecy went wrong, which it always did, he would look back at his grounding ritual to see where he went wrong. He’d try so hard to look at how to fix it. The set up for the fires always seemed fine, they always burned correctly… but maybe not everything was lit properly.
Hernando would scream until Bruno’s head was only cotton. Bruno would sit on the floor, letting the nameless voices guide him through a proper ritual. He’d light all the fires. Then, instead of blowing out the match, he’d dig it into his skin. He would yelp and shiver, but it would make his mind clear and light afterwards, a burning pain on his arm.
People had long stopped being there when he’d have his visions, so it wasn’t like anyone would notice.
He even tried cutting at one point. He’d bleed onto the four piles before lighting them. Maybe that would work instead of burning? He’d blood-let through his rituals – praying that it was an offering that whatever energy or god – anything that was out stitching the universe together – was seeing this and nodding in agreement that it was enough for a positive vision.
It never was – and he continued to try and find new ways to perfect his ritual until he concluded that it wasn’t the ritual, it was the very essence of him. HE was the problem.
Just like the town said!
Dios Mio! Bruno thought as Hernando would yell at him to shut up, to stop thinking that way.
But it’s true. It’s so TRUE. How could I be so blind?! Everyone in the town is right. The voices, Hernando. They’re right. What if they’re celestial beings telling me to stop?! Maybe I’m not using my gift correctly or the right way – or maybe it was a mistake that I was given this gift and I need to return it?! It makes so much sense!
It’s not true. It’s not true! They’re evil. They make you feel this way. Be strong. Be brave. They can’t get to you like this. Listen to me, por favor, hermano.
Hernando, no. I’m hurting the town, the familia!
THEY’RE HURTING YOU.
You’re just saying that because you're me!
He smashed a vision on the ground for good measure.
Alone in his vision cave, blood all over the herbal piles, the smell of burnt skin and ash in the air, he began pacing back and forth like if he walked around enough, he would be able to physically find and talk to his other self.
They usually would argue until it was time for dinner or a much-needed nap.
-
Sometimes Bruno would yell and scream when he believed he was home alone – that the kids and his sisters were out, Alma was gone, and he would beg Dolores to let him have a private conversation with his other self. She would always ask if she could stay and play mediator or if Jorge could possibly come out to help.
But it didn’t work that way. They couldn’t just summon Jorge. He had to be… triggered out… somehow. The years in the walls hadn’t given them the opportunity to experiment with that because they hadn’t needed to.
That was another thing though – figuring out how everything worked.
He would have a bad episode. It would last somewhere between hours or days and there was no way to tell when it would end. Delusions, fear, paranoia, and rambling visions where he couldn’t even understand what he was saying or who he was talking to, if anyone.
Then there was light. Days where everything was perfect, and the air felt crisper than it had ever been before. He could laugh, joke with his family, spend time with the kids… it was so… he was so relieved. How had it been anything else?
It was those times were he began to question if Hernando or Jorge even existed. Was it all a dream? The harsh voices in his head, was that just some nightmare? Then Bruno would forget, and it would be like it never happened. The episodes of whatever it was that was haunting him would be gone.
Then they’d happen again, out of nowhere, and oh GOD how could he forget how bad it was? Why didn’t he ask for help? Why couldn’t he do anything right?!
I spent all that time playing pretend with mi familia and torturing them by bringing them bad luck and they don’t even realize it yet – but when they do?!
Bruno. This isn’t you. Wait it out. It will be alright. Hernando pleaded.
I’m such an idiot. I’m such an idiot.
You’re such an idiot.
DON’T LISTEN TO WHATEVER THAT IS. Hernando screamed in his head.
Bruno could only put his hands over his ears and rock back and forth, once again alone in his vision cave, as if that would prevent him from hearing the internal argument from continuing.
-
He knew it was getting worse. Even the rats couldn’t even comfort him anymore. He knew the family was noticing.
Alma would tell him to stop moping around the house.
Julieta and Pepa tried to pry information out of him.
The kids… Julieta and Pepa’s children who were now all much older than he remembered… would try to follow him and get him more involved in the family.
His brothers-in-law tried so hard to get a ‘boy’s night’ going.
Bruno would only cry and repeat the same thing over and over about the voices and Hernando and the bad visions… but their answer would always be the same.
‘You’re not a burden.’
‘You’re not bad luck.’
‘We love you, Brunito.’
But those were statements with no facts – no proof. The voices in his head and the town were more than enough proof for him. Why tell him empty statements? Why keep hanging around them like a ghost and making everyone else upset when he could stay away in his tower?
Granted his tower was much homier… less stairs… more livable… it actually made him wants to stay in there more. The changes to his door only validated that need to be away.
And then, like a switch, the episode would be over, and he could spend time with his family again. He could breathe and smile and laugh… only because of the increased frequency of… whatever was haunting him… he was beginning to remember exactly how bad they were even when he felt good.
Both he and Hernando knew it was only exacerbating the problem. He needed a good long talk with someone. Maybe Julieta and Agustin – they were always kind to him – but then he’d be ruining their lives with his troubles.
-
He would be trying his best to relax and let sleep take over when someone would yell something through his ear.
“BRUNO.” He sat up wildly, not bothering to look around his room anymore.
The voice wasn’t real. It was something evil in his head mocking him for even trying to relax. It sounded like Alma.
Now that he recognized the voice, he began replaying the entire day and analyzing it. Maybe something happened – maybe something was going to happen. He should do a vision to find out. It was the middle of the night. No one would know that he did one.
As soon as Bruno stood up, however, sleep finally made itself known again and he laid back down. There was muffled ringing in his ears that was just the result of the complete silence around him.
He blinked awake and yawned.
Why did I wake up today?
We’re supposed to. Hernando responded.
Bruno got up and made his way to the door, knowing that he was going to be greeting his family down by the kitchen. He was an inconvenience, but there was nowhere else to go. Casita wouldn’t let him leave. It’s possible that Casita knew deep down he was bad luck and that she was keeping him locked away from the world. Containing his curse.
Stop narrating. Por favor. I’m sad.
“Hm.”
When did the voices start talking back to him?
To YOU.
To me.
This is you.
Bruno looked in the mirror. He was in the bathroom now. Awareness spread through his mind.
“I’m here.”
My head is so heavy though.
It’s going to last a while.
I wonder if this happens to anyone else in the family.
He didn’t even know if it was him or Hernando – or Jorge – talking anymore.
Bruno stumbled in the bathroom, getting to the door.
“Did I brush my teeth?” He spoke with a sudden lucidity. “Eh.” It’s too hard. Just get coffee.
He went to leave the bathroom again, but realized he forgot to actually GO to the bathroom. He sighed and rubbed his face.
-
Numb.
He was numb. GOD, he was so numb that it felt like his body was made of nothing and his bones didn’t exist. His mind was mash and the world in front of him didn’t exist. He couldn’t even tell if he had eyes anymore because there was no feeling where his face would be.
There was something where his body would be, it was his body, but if he didn’t look at his fingers, he had no idea where they were.
Looking but not seeing.
Thinking in shapes and not thoughts.
Moving but not feeling the floor.
He wasn’t existing, or the world wasn’t real, he had no mind to tell the difference if there was any.
“Bruno, stop moping around the house and help bring breakfast to the table.”
Eyes unfocused, he needed to find dinner was. Why was there fruit for breakfast. BREAKFAST. It’s afternoon- not afternoon yet. God, I hate the voices in my head I just need to know what time it is.
After helping with setting up breakfast, he sat with the family. They were trying to get at least one day a week where they could have a family breakfast together.
Bruno’s head was tilted to the side. It was so heavy. He could feel the weight of the brain in his skull as the top of his neck was spent, unable to keep it straight.
You see how no one notices or cares? Sad sack. They’ll never know what’s wrong because you can’t tell them, and they don’t want to hear. Try to smile.
God, it’s so tiring.
“Bruno, what are you going to do today?” Alma asked.
No, that was too difficult a question.
He shook his head and shrugged. He opened his mouth, but words had trouble coming out.
I can help around town or something.
“Really Bruno, I understand it’s hard coming back to the family but you have to at least try.”
Oh, didn’t say that out loud. I forgot I had to do that now.
Stupid .
Don’t LISTEN. Hernando, poor Hernando, always fighting the inner demons.
DEMONS. That made SENSE! He was possessed? The Bad Luck was the curse and the voices…
Whatever kept happening at the table, there was an argument between Mirabel(?) and Alma. Bruno looked up the best he could. Ah, no, it was Pepa and Julieta. Hm.
Bruno just ate his breakfast. He was starving. Julieta told him it was alright to eat more, now he was going to. Not too much, if he got too much, he could get too big and that would be bad.
Why would it be bad?
I don’t know.
If you eat too much, then you’re taking care of yourself.
That’s bad.
I don’t deserve that.
Not at all.
Who are you?
“IDIOT!” Bruno sparked alive again, looking around, but it was only that voice in his head.
Oh, they were cleaning up breakfast? No one said anything? It was that voice again. Why was it so loud? He almost wish it would talk more than just a single word so he could determine exactly what it was.
Bruno’s body was moving to help clean up without him even thinking about it at first. His body was just mimicking what everyone else was doing. It was that voice again.
-
On autopilot, he stumbled into his vision cave. Grabbing a random tablet, he smashed it on a stone table and snatched up a shard. He was seeing but not registering. He couldn’t even feel what he was doing or if the shard was even in his hands at all, even though it looked like it was – if that was what he was holding.
Bruno sat with a ‘thud’ on the floor, his head lolling over so he could get a good view of his left arm. He had to blink a few times and lean over it to see. There were light lines all over his arm.
Oh. That’s right. He never cut deep enough to get a good offering for his visions. Maybe THAT’s why they were bad – he just didn’t give enough.
He had to cut just enough to make sure he could wake up. He really needed to wake up now.
Have to wake up.
He pressed the shard to the middle of his forearm, and still he couldn’t feel anything. He slashed across his arm quickly, unfeeling, and hoping that the pain would bring his body back to him.
He watched his arm open up and blood spurt out across his face and ruana, across the vision cave.
Oh. Shit.
Oh no. Oh no. Ahh I made a mistake. He slapped his hand over it and watched blood pool out from between his fingers.
He no longer felt nothing, and it was exhilarating. He felt like his body was made of static and electricity; his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest and in his ears. The horror of what he’d done was obscured by the relief of feeling human again. The adrenalin of knowing he fucked up made him curious to look. He didn’t even have enough brainpower to feel ashamed that he smirked as he lifted his hand.
Blood squirt back out unevenly, getting more all over him. Bruno put his hand over it again. It looked like it was too deep, he felt like it was. He found a hand towel and wrapped it around his arm unceremoniously.
Then he just… stood there.
I can’t bother my sister. Then she’ll know and it’ll be a whole thing and… it doesn’t even hurt though. Also what if it isn’t that deep and I’m just being dramatic?
…Maybe I can just wait it out and see if it heals?
Get yourself together and go see Julieta. Hernando ordered.
He had begun pacing back and forth in his vision cave, trying to talk himself in and out of going anywhere.
Let’s just go downstairs and when we get to our door, we’ll see how we feel. Hernando supplied.
Bruno took the advice of his ‘other’ and made his way down the stairs and over to his door. He didn’t realize that his mind was wandering, and he was blinking a lot but he felt alive, so he considered that ‘normal’ and ‘good’ after being a ghost for so long.
He lifted his hand to grab the handle and that’s when it hurt.
Bruno felt the drying blood peel off of the fresh wound underneath. It wasn’t painful, but enough to make him hiss in discomfort.
We could find Julieta and say we tripped trying to move something. Hernando again offered an out, anything to convince Bruno to get out the door.
Bruno nodded and opened the door to go find Julieta.
Casita rattled her tiles in alarm.
“It’s okay. Just got a little cut and need to find Julieta.”
The house transported him down to the front door but did a really half-hazard job at it because Bruno held both hands out to steady himself and gave out a small cry of pain. The towel didn’t drop because it was glued to his arm now. Casita all but shoved him out of her doors.
So… It’d been about 15-20 minutes? He was strolling around town, looking for Julieta. He chuckled to himself at how silly he was being. He was fine. Although, he was beginning to feel nauseous… maybe a little bit dizzy? The static electricity was starting to feel like a dull uncomfortable ache. The whole hand towel was red.
Finally, Julieta, handing out arepas around the corner.
Bruno didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he calmly walked- stumbled over- hiding his arm under his ruana. Julieta made eye-contact with him.
“Hey Julie! I think I need an arepa. I mean, I don’t know… if I do. But it kind of hurts so maybe I need one.”
“Sure, nino, let me see.” Curse Julieta’s gift for her having to literally hand you the arepa after she sees what’s hurting you.
Bruno lifted his arm from under his ruana, but kept the towel on.
“Brunito,” She her breathing increased and her grip on her basket faltered. “Let- let me see – por favor Bruno.”
He couldn’t help but pull back when she tried to snatch the rag from him.
“Don’t be mad. It doesn’t even hurt, it’s not that bad!”
“ Show me NOW.” It was uncharacteristic of Julieta to bark out an order, and it shook him
Okay he felt like he was going to throw up. His eyes fluttered as he began to feel woozy, and Julieta took his second of hesitation to rip off the towel and blood splattered over her.
Bruno blinked in surprise, wondering if he hit veins or muscle.
“BRUNO.” Julieta screamed an ugly gasp, dropping the basket to grab his arm.
She dropped down to grab an arepa instinctively shoving her hand into her basket and slamming an arepa into his mouth. “CHEW IT.”
Bruno opened his mouth to bite the arepa smooshed into his face. She kept pushing it into his mouth, with a hand on his arm to watch the cut heal.
She picked up her basket, not letting go of his arm, and began to drag him back to Casita.
He guessed that he was going to have that talk with Julieta and Agustin now.
Bruno could feel Jorge swell with relief inside his mind.