Bribes opened doors.
The threats silenced the staff.
The corridors were too bright, as if the light were part of the punishment.
In room 207, horror was sitting by a window.
Maria remained motionless, pale, hollow, with a lost gaze, as if the silk of the sheets had seeped into her mind.
—Maria… —Sebastian whispered, and his voice came out broken, as if it hadn’t been used for anything that mattered in years.
There was no response, only the distant, indifferent, constant sound of an air conditioner.
Then Alma ran towards her.
“Mommy!” she cried. “It’s me, your little star!”
The fog shattered like glass in the sun.
Maria’s eyes filled with tears and focused first on her daughter, and then on Sebastian, as if the world were returning in pieces.
—Elea said you never loved us— whispered Maria, her voice so weak it hurt to hear it.
“She lied,” Sebastian said, gently lifting her up. “We’re leaving. Together. They won’t be able to hide you anymore.”
The alarms started blaring as they escaped, and the guards were shouting, and the lights were cutting through the trees like white blades.
They ran towards Hector’s car with their hearts in their throats and fear chasing them like a rabid dog.
Inside the vehicle, breathless and trembling, Sebastian felt whole for the first time in years.
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