Alma walked up the stairs to the second level of the Other Casita. She walked down the halls. The doors were all dark. Very dark. The wood was worn, and the paint was peeling. The floorboards creaked beneath her shoes as she walked.
She was heading to the Other Julieta's room when she stopped, seeing the nursery door. The pint was mostly peeled on scratched away. The wood was splintering, and she didn't dare touch the broken doorknob. None of that really mattered until she saw what was tied to the door.
It was the Other Mirabel's dress. Nearly identical to her actual granddaughter's dress. The shoes were tied to the now-tattered lace at the bottom. Alma's eyes widened as she realized the implications of the cruel display in front of her.
Earlier, in her first escape, the other Mirabel had pulled her out of the mirror. The Other Pedro has sewn her mouth into a crude, deformed smile. Alma tried to bring Other Mirabel with her. But the girl knew she couldn't go, evident by the sand that fell out of her hand when it had been cut in the run. She wouldn't last.
Alma had wondered where she was, more than the Other family members anyway. And now she knew. The poor girl had been punished for helping.
Alma felt rage, sadness, and a torrent of other emotions well up in her. It wasn't the real Mirabel, but she reminded her too much of her real granddaughter it hurt almost as much.
Alma turned, leaning on the broken railing. "Evil brujo!" She screamed at the empty, quiet, and lifeless house. "I'm not scared!"
After huffing for a moment, she turned and made her way to her original destination. She would get the eyes, find her family, wherever they were, and leave. That Other Pedro...he was a monster. Nothing like the real Pedro.
Coming up the door, she carefully opened it, the hinges creaking as if about to collapse at any moment. But she pushed through. She would find the eyes and save her family from this hellscape.