I Hate You

A new beginning

(3rd person view)

Camilo woke up early that morning a loud voice cutting through the silence as his mami called from downstairs. A hint of distress in her voice made him quick to move. 

"There it is again, that faint plea" His older sister was sat at the table, her hand cupping her ear, the rest of the family watching intently. 
"What's going on?" Camilo spoke with a low voice, if his sisters was trying to pick out something quiet, his loud voice certainly wasn't going to help.
"Some girl sounds like she's lost maybe? She keeps calling for help but it's getting fainter and fainter. Luisa and tía Julieta have gone out to try and find her." There was an unspoken hope between the family, Camilo felt different. He felt odd about the situation, deep down he knew it was right to rescue the girl in distress but he also couldn't help that this girl was bad news. 
"They found her! They're coming back. They will be around 30 minuets." Dolores said, happy she didn't have to listen to the plea's, rather to the good news her tía delivered from miles away. 

The spare room was laid out and a batch Julieta's arepas con queso were put on the table. Sure enough, 30 minuets later, Luisa banged open the door, a girl unconscious in her arms, Julieta following close behind, worry etched over her normally peaceful features. Camilo looked at the girl, still unsure, despite thinking the way her (h/c) hair drooped off of his cousins arm was pretty. His Abuela was quick to pull him away, demanding respect for the girl, no matter who she was. 

It was the first sign for the curly haired boy that he didn't like her. Why does she get to march- well be carried into la casita and he isn't able to even look at her? She isn't royalty, at least, he didn't think she was. She was just some girl that would be gone by two days. 

~~~

Well he was wrong.

Two day's came and went but the girl still hadn't left. Though she had woken up by now, having eaten some of his tía Julieta's food, he thought she was fit to go. And made sure she knew.
"Alright princesa," (The term being used as a form of torment rather than endearment) "I think it's time for you to go. I've packed your bags, they're waiting outside, ready for you! Alright, vamos, let's go!" The girl looked back at him with tired eyes and nodded, slowly rising from her bed. She couldn't tell in the moment that the boy before her was annoyed by her, she thought he was being encouraging.
"It's almost like you want me gone." She joked, a small smile etched on her face.
"More than you know." He mumbled back in reply, she hummed, and he shook his head.
"Nothing princesa, come on." The girl takes too long to move, so he grabs her arm, pulling her out the door. 

"Abuela! She's ready to go!"
"I hope you aren't pushing her in anyway Camilo at this time, if she leaves before she is ready to and falls ill, her parents will never forgive us."
"Oh don't worry about that, my parents don't know you. They don't even know me." The girl laughed at her own joke, earning confused looks from the family around her.
"Oh, um- they don't live... around here and my parents are... always... away so we never really hang out." She mumbled, an awkward silence falling on the group. "Ahem, anyway, thank you so much for your hospitality. If you could, could you do me one last thing?" Abuela nodded.
"So, I am actually from Oscurathorne, up the road away and I am not very familiar with the land outside of here. I am looking for a group of people, I think they are called the Madrigals or something and well, my Abuelo sent me. He's dead now but um.. his name was Miguel." At the name, Abuela gasped. 
"Well my dear, you have found us, we are the Madrigals!" A ginger haired women stepped forward, holding her hands and speaking to her. 
"Miguel..." The older woman sat down, placing a hand to her heart and looking at the painting on the wall, of a younger man. "What do you need from us? I will do anything." She turned back around to look her in the eyes, she was still processing her luck of finding the Madrigals straight away.
"Well, I'm (Y/n), and I am kind of homeless."