My sister and I switched identities and made her husband repent for his actions.
I lowered my eyes and answered in Lidia’s soft voice.
“Yes.”
The gate closed behind me with a metallic clang, and the first thing I felt was sun on my skin. Real sun. Not the filtered kind that entered through barred windows. My lungs opened like they were trying to relearn freedom all at once.
I didn’t look back.
I just whispered, “Your time is over, Damian.”
The house sat at the end of a grim street in Ecatepec, surrounded by stray dogs and rusting gates. It smelled wrong before I even entered—grease, mildew, sour air, neglect. Nothing about it felt like a home. It felt like something people were trapped inside.
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And there she was.
Sofía sat in a corner holding a doll with no head. Her clothes were too tight, her knees scraped, her hair matted. When she looked up at me, I felt my chest split wide open. She had Lidia’s eyes, but not her softness. Not anymore. Fear had already moved in.
“Come here, cariño,” I said gently.
She didn’t move toward me.
She moved back.
Before I could try again, a voice slashed through the room.
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