Sofía swallowed hard.
“That cowardly girls get left alone. And that everyone would laugh if she came out of the bathroom.”
I felt such a pure, cold rage that I had to take a deep breath to keep from breaking down in front of her.
I put her to bed next to me that night. I didn’t sleep. I checked every photo and video that had been uploaded to the family WhatsApp group. In a story from my cousin Mariana, recorded “by accident,” you could see several children running toward the bathroom. Then you could hear Claudia’s voice saying:
“Close the door for a bit, so she learns.”
Then laughter.
I saved the video.
At six in the morning, there was a knock at my door.
I opened it and saw my mom in the doorway, her eyes red, but not from sadness. From anger.
“Daniel, you have to fix this,” she said without saying hello.
“Fix what?”
“Your sister is desperate.”
