The next day I pretended to go to work. I had coffee, put on my jacket, and said goodbye. Lucía left in her uniform and with her backpack. Verónica left shortly after. I drove a few blocks, parked far away, and walked back.
I slipped in through the back door without making a sound. The house was quiet. I went upstairs barefoot, checked the hallway, living room, bedrooms. Nothing. I felt ridiculous. Until it occurred to me to hide under my own bed.
Twenty minutes passed. Then I heard the door open.
Light footsteps ascended the stairs. Someone entered my bedroom. The mattress sagged.
First there was a stifled sob. Then another. Then a broken voice said:
—Please… that’s enough.
It was Lucia.
My daughter, who should have been in high school, was sitting on my bed crying as if the world were crushing her. From below, I could only see her white sneakers and uniform socks. I heard her repeat between sobs:
—I'm not going to lose… I'm not going to let them destroy me.
Then it broke completely.
And I, hidden under the bed, understood that I wasn't discovering a teenage tantrum, but a nightmare that had been happening right in front of me without me seeing it.
I couldn't believe what was about to come out of my own daughter's mouth…
PART 2
When Lucía came downstairs to the living room, I followed her at a distance. She sat on the sofa, hugging her knees, her eyes red and her face pale. She looked at herself in the hallway mirror as if searching for the little girl she once was.
"I can't anymore," she whispered.
Then I left.
—Lucía.
She jumped up as if she had caught her stealing.
—Dad… Story
I didn't yell at him. I couldn't. My throat was closed up.
—Why aren't you in school?
Her lips trembled.
—Yes, I went… but I left.
—Since when have you been doing that?
He didn't answer.
I sat down opposite her, leaving space between us.
—The neighbor heard your screams. Me too. Don't tell me everything's normal anymore.
Lucia clenched her hands until her knuckles turned white.
—They're bothering me at school.
The word "bothering" fell short of describing what she began to recount.
