It wasn’t a house. It was a trap.
I saw it right away.
Sofia was sitting in a corner, clutching a headless doll. Her clothes were too small, her knees scraped, her hair tangled. When she looked up, I felt my heart break. She had Lidia’s eyes. But not her light.
“Hello, my love,” I said, kneeling down. “Come with me.”
She didn’t run to hug me. She backed away.
And behind me, a bitter voice sounded.
“Just look at that. The princess decided to come back.”
I turned around. There was Doña Ofelia, the mother-in-law. Short, heavy, wearing a flowered robe, with a look that could turn milk sour.
“Where have you been, you useless thing?” she spat. “You probably went crying to your crazy sister.”
I didn’t say anything.
Then Brenda, Damian’s sister, appeared, followed by her son, a spoiled brat who saw Sofia and snatched the doll from her hands.
