along the cobblestone street that led to the university residence. In her hand, she held a scarf she had knitted herself-for Isabelita-and in her heart, a restlessne
n echo. For a few seconds, there was no
ce half-sleepy, her hair disheveled, and her soul on the
are you doing
youth and fatigue. But there, almost hidden by a lock of hair, was the scar.
ermission. "And I'm not going to turn a blind eye. I know you're c
ently, her breath bated. Sudd
The Night o
ven at night, and she was returning from the library, her head full of notes and her s
rst she hesitated. Then
arsh voice whisp
to scream, but fear gripped her like an invisible vice. She wanted to run, but her body
had all happened in seconds. But f
outh would invoke more darkness. She covered the scar with her hair, wit
re
lean, meticulously organized, as if Isabelita's
ndow. Amelia placed her hands on the
ome to judge you, ri
er. She played with the rim of an emp
. That if I ignored it, it w
ell like a bro
ppened,
n, in a low but firm voice, she began to speak. Of the attack. Of the paralyz
felt her blood boil. Anger-clean, protective-began to rise from deep within her. Not against Isabelita. But against the world that
Amelia said with a sad half-smile. "But you know what? I
th Behi
You never have been. It hurts me to think that you've carried this w
ps together. The guilt w
weak. That if I told anyone... everything would fall
rength than that which is needed to move forward after something like this.
asn't a broken cry. It was a release. A "finall
ed. She held. She held. They both cried a litt
e betwee
e space. But before leaving, she paused in the doorway. Isabelita watched her, still
ly. "That this story won't mark you by what the
walked over to her siste
ad resting on her shoulder. "Thank you for not l
k me to love you. Tha
She walked more slowly, breathing deeply, now carrying not only her wor
bled meaningless words in his sleep. They were still children, but Amelia knew th
y wound. Light to every fea
's forehead would never disappear,
e h
ee