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Tío Bruno wakes up crying almost every night. Nobody else hears him, even now that he’s back, because he asks Casita to keep his secret. Casita loves him, Dolores knows so because she hears the floorboards raise and fall until Bruno’s bed is rocking ever so softly, pretending to calm him like he’s a scared kid.
Dolores might usually grant them privacy.
“They don’t love me. They need me away… trapped again…”
But to hear this! She can’t have such scandalous misconceptions.
She makes her way down the hallway to the furthest room. The floorboards kick her ankles in protest, but she walks on.
She opens the door, but Bruno won’t look at her.
“Tío, don’t worry, I’m here.”
"I should be gone. Gone again. But I couldn’t bear it.” His eyes are lost, his hands tug at his ruana like they’ll rip it apart.
“We wouldn’t bear losing you, Tío Bruno, not again.” She slides her hands over his. His eyes focus somewhat, and then they’re filled with fear.
“But I’ll hurt you, Dolores. I’m just a danger.” The words ring louder in their wrongness.
“You, my tío, could never. We’ll look after each other.” The walls rumble approvingly.