At midnight, I heard footsteps. Damian, Brenda, and Doña Ofelia crept in. They had rope, duct tape, and a towel. They planned to tie me up and call the hospital to “put the crazy woman back in her cage.”
I waited until they were close enough.
Then I moved.
I kicked Brenda in the stomach. I took the rope from Damian. I hit my mother-in-law with the nightstand lamp before she could scream.
In less than five minutes, Damian was tied hand and foot to his own bed, Brenda was crying on the floor, and Doña Ofelia was trembling in a corner.
I took Lidia’s cell phone and started recording.
“Tell me loudly,” I ordered, “why you wanted to tie me up.”
No one spoke.
I approached Damian and lifted his chin.
“Either you talk, or I’ll explain to the police why your three-year-old daughter is afraid to breathe when you enter a room.”
He broke down first. Then the other two.
