No one knew what had happened to Alejandro during the 3 months of his capture. He didn’t even tell you, his best friend. However, it was obvious he had changed. He was a lot more anxious and irritable, some Vaqueros even reported hearing screaming from his room in the middle of the night. You just wanted your friend back.

You had tried to talk to him, to convince him it was okay to get it off his chest, but he shut you down every time. You didn’t want to push it, to remind him of anything, but you were curious.

The last thing you expected was to be woken by Rudy at 11pm on a Tuesday night and dragged out of bed. Something about an ‘erratic Alejandro who needed you’. Little did you know, he had a dream where you were killed, and he wouldn’t calm down until he knew you were safe.

You walked into the mess hall to see Alejandro, aiming a gun at anyone who tried to step close to him, with short and shallow breathing and terrified eyes.

“¡Vete a la mierda!” He yelled, his eyes flicking all over the room, until they landed on you, softening slightly. “miaptt.” He murmured, almost in disbelief. “Everyone.. out- go.” He ordered, a little relieved. Rudy beckoned everyone out until it was just you and him, but he hadn’t lowered the gun yet, you had to be careful.