PART 2
That night, in the emergency room, Sofía didn’t let go of my hand for a second.
The doctor who examined her at the general hospital asked me carefully what had happened. I repeated what little I knew: family party, bath, marks, fear, a “joke” that no one wanted to explain. While we talked, Sofía stared at her shoes and clutched the blanket they gave her as if it were a life preserver.
When the doctor asked her if anyone had hurt her, my daughter remained silent.
I didn’t pressure her.
But before going to sleep, back home, while I was arranging her stuffed rabbit, Sofía murmured something that broke my heart.
“Aunt Claudia said that if I cried, you wouldn’t want to take me with you anymore.”
I froze.
“What else did she say, my love?”