In the taxi:
—Hey, Maria… how are you feeling now?
—…
—Maria, answer me, I need to know…
—WHY DID YOU HAVE TO INTERFERE!? I told you I was fine, but NO! You always do whatever you want…
—That idiot was raping you.
—Don't you dare say that about him… Did you even ask me if I wanted to be there!?
—I just…
—You what!? The truth is your life is so miserable that you're not happy unless you mess with others… DAMN IT, YOU'RE A HYPOCRITE!
—MARIA… I will not allow you to speak to me like that!
—And what do you plan to do about it, you fucking hypocrite…?
PLASHHH!
The sound echoed throughout the car, and silence took over everything. The driver turned around to see what was happening. The tension in the atmosphere was intense, coming from a broken, worn-out and nervous heart, and from a soul that seemed imprisoned. Anabel had slapped Maria hard without even realizing it, having lost control of her nerves.
Maria held her cheek and stared at Anabel, who looked more frightened than furious. She couldn't believe what she had done; her nerves had betrayed her, and that action had condemned her.
—What have you done…? How dare you…?
—Maria… I'm sorry… I…
—I'm telling Dad. I won't forgive you for this, I swear…
—Maria… please… it wasn't my…
They were interrupted by the driver, who until then had remained silent.
—We've arrived.
The vehicle stopped, and Maria stormed out of it toward the house, tears in her eyes, sobbing, carrying a piece of news that seemed to burn in her throat.
—Miss… are you alright? Do you need me to stay or call the police?
—…No… thank you very much, but it's not necessary.
—Alright then, have a good night.
—Thank you very much.
Anabel got out of the taxi with her head down and her thoughts lost in the clouds, walking slowly toward the door. Behind her, like an arrow stuck in place, was the worried gaze of the driver, who noticed the trembling in the young girl's body.
A few meters from the door, it opened. Arturo was holding it. He stared at her fixedly as she walked forward at a turtle's pace. Anabel raised her head and met the unsettling gaze of the taxi driver; they looked at each other for a moment. Arturo stepped aside to let Anabel pass without saying or doing anything strange and, with a defiant look toward the driver, slammed the door shut.
At the FONS Mansion:
—Hey, Frederick, why did you let them go?
—Relax, I know what I'm doing. Hey, Manuel… what exactly were you doing with that stupid girl?
—That idiot asked to be part of us and said she was willing to do whatever I asked, so… I just thought I'd have a little fun.
—Having fun? You know very well we can't afford stupidity, especially if the one committing it is incompetent.
—Yes, I know… I'm very sorry, Frederick. I didn't tell her anything. I only slept with her, I didn't promise her anything.
—You'd better not have. Fine… I want you to take care of everything, as always.
—Okay. That won't be a problem, but… what about those two? We won't be able to stop them from talking about the party.
—I'll handle Anabel… as for her stupid little sister… I'll think of something. She might be useful to us.
—Understood —Manuel and Enrique said in unison.
—Good. Now go attend to the guests. I'll take care of the rest.
Frederick headed to the back of the FONS Mansion, where two dark cars were waiting for him, along with six men in black suits, discreetly armed, and among them one man in a white suit, elegant, clearly the boss.
—Hey, you little piece of shit, what did I tell you about making me wait?
—I'm very sorry, sir, it's just that I had to—
The door closed, and that scene was cut off from the eyes and ears of anyone else.
—I'm starting to get tired of working for those bastards.
—What the hell are you saying, Enrique? Just do your part and don't do anything stupid.
—I'm not saying that…
—I know what you're trying to say, but now is not the time. Come on… let's finish this.
At Anabel's house:
From the entrance, the screams coming from inside the house could be heard. It was Maria's voice, seeking revenge for the mistreatment she had received from Anabel.
—Anabel… is what your sister says true? —Arturo asked with his hoarse voice and an angry tone.
—Dad, I…
—Don't call me that… that won't save you.
—No… —she whispered.
—So… are you telling me she's lying?
—It's not that…
—Then what is it? Or are you going to tell me that mark on her cheek was self-inflicted?
—No, I didn't want…
—SHUT UP! I don't want to hear you. Do you think you can come into my house and lie to my face… like your whore of a mother? MARIA, go to your room and don't come down until morning. Do you understand?
—Yes, Dad.
Maria went upstairs to her bedroom, entered, and locked the door. From there, she could barely hear anything. A few minutes later, Arturo came and locked the door from the outside, making sure that everything that was going to happen would remain a mystery to his daughter.
For a while, voices could be heard, then crying and blows, and later only a suspicious, bitter silence remained.
Curiosity freed Maria's imagination, as it was hard for her to know for sure what was happening downstairs. With every blow, with every cry, her anger faded and her sorrow grew. Then she remembered what had happened, and her perspective completely changed.
—That's what she gets for hitting me. She deserves everything Dad does to her. Besides… this way she'll learn not to meddle where she's not called.
As the noises faded away, Maria slept peacefully in her bed, unaware of everything.
A new day dawned, and the sun, as never before, illuminated everything. Its rays passed through the glass window of the room where Maria slept, caressing her skin and wishing her good morning.
Knock, knock, knock… the door sounded, followed by the lock opening. The door opened, and Arturo stood there, coming to greet his beloved daughter.
—Gooood morning, princess… wake up already, sleeping beauty.
—Mmmmm!
—Come on… get up already!
—Mmm, I don't want to… —she covered herself with the blankets again, avoiding the sunlight coming from the windows Arturo was opening one by one.
—I know you don't want to, but you have to. Remember, DUTY…
—IS THE DEATH OF DESIRE! Yes, I know… ugh, how annoying.
—Hahaha, that's true, but look at the bright side… a little more and you'll graduate, and then…
—And then I'll only suffer three times more. Just thinking about it already tires me out.
—You're very whiny today. Come on, get out of bed already, school is waiting for you!
—Okay, Dad, no need to shout… I got it.
Maria finally got up and went to the bathroom. When she reached the door, she realized she couldn't open it. She knocked several times, but only silence answered her.
—ANABEL, ARE YOU IN THERE!? Could you hurry up, please?
—Uh… yes… sorry… I'm coming out… —Anabel replied from inside the bathroom with a muffled, sobbing voice.
A while later, she came out of the bathroom with her face covered by a towel and wearing only underwear. On some parts of her body, Maria could see bruises that Anabel tried to hide uneasily. She ran out of the bathroom and locked herself in the room, closing the door behind her.
Sometimes imagination makes us see things that aren't there, and at that moment, an idea of what might have happened the night before crossed Maria's mind, after seeing Anabel's torn clothes from the previous night and the bruises on her thigh and back. But since assumptions were never proof of anything, she simply decided to let it go.
At Javier's house:
—Javi… son, are you up already!? You'll be late for school!
—I think you're the one who'll be late, Mom… hehe. Come down, I already made breakfast.
—Sometimes I think I turn into a child again. Wait… what time is it…?
She looked at her bedside clock and realized she was already five minutes late for work. She jumped out of bed and, as if there were a fire, ran from one side to the other trying to leave on time.
Meanwhile, Javier calmly ate breakfast in the kitchen while watching the news on a fifty-inch television, worn out and with several vertical lines across the screen. His home wasn't a luxury mansion; they barely had enough to live comfortably, but it was his home, and that was more than enough for him.
—Javi… I'm sorry, son, I can't have breakfast with you. Here… take this little bit of money and use it for whatever you need.
—Mom… use it yourself to get to work on time, I'll be fine.
—Uh… well… if you say so, then I'm at ease. I'm leaving… —she opened the door in a hurry and crossed it without looking back.
—WAIT, MOM!
—Huh? What is it!?
—I knew you'd wake up late, so I packed you some food for work. Here you go…
—Ahh, thank you so much, son. Well… I'm off, I'm really late.
Javier's mother hurried off to work, and he went back to finish his breakfast before heading to school.
At school:
The school bell rang, and everyone headed to their classrooms to start classes as usual.
Meanwhile, Anabel arrived at school wearing strange clothing. Her body was covered with leggings, and her school uniform was worn over that elastic armor. She immediately became the center of attention for everyone who saw her; some simply mocked her, others, through whispers and criticism, dragged her down.
No one knew why she looked so peculiar and ridiculous, but everyone knew one thing… that it was pathetic of her to dress that way.
—HEY, ARE YOU TRYING TO BUILD YOURSELF A SHELL OR HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND!?
—Hahahahahaha!
—Maybe she's new at this…
—Or maybe it's the new fashion…
—Hahaha, hahaha, hahaha!
Trying to keep calm, sweating and trembling, she headed to her classroom.
In the classroom:
—Look who showed up… MONKEY Ana…
—one of her classmates said.
—Hahaha.
Meanwhile, Javier was reading his books, his mind focused on the upcoming exams. Frederick remained silent, watching Anabel and everything she did from a distance. Manuel, with a cold and calculating look, also watched her in silence. And Enrique, acting like a receiver, noticed the tension disguised as laughter surrounding Anabel, which made him understand that even though no one would talk about that ghost party, the impact and the ashes it left behind could easily ignite, exposing what they struggled so hard to hide.
Anabel's terrified gaze could only mean one thing, but… how could anyone know? No one knew, or at least she didn't know, but she did know one thing… that this was no longer her place.