Doña Rosa went down the stairs with her heart beating in her throat. He found Alejandro in the dining room, sitting in front of some papers from a private mental health clinic on the outskirts of Guadalajara.
Valeria stood behind him, massaging his shoulders as if she were a worried wife.
—You can’t sign that —Rosa said, almost trembling—. Mateo has a fever. The fingers are purple. That arm smells bad. You have to take him to the emergency room.
Alejandro did not look up.
—Last night he almost broke his arm again. He says there are insects inside the cast. Do you understand what that sounds like?
—I understand it perfectly —Rosa responded—, because I saw the ants enter.
Valeria sighed, tired.
—Doña Rosa, with all due respect, you love him very much and that is why you do not see reality. Mateo is sick, but not in the arm. He’s jealous. He wants to separate us.
—That boy asked for his arm to be cut off —Rosa said, with tears in her eyes—. No child asks for that out of jealousy.
Alejandro squeezed the papers in his hands.
—If I take him to the hospital and they see injuries, they’re going to say I neglected him. I can lose it.
Valeria leaned towards him.
—Exactly, love. Think well. If doctors misunderstand everything, what will happen to you? With your work? With custody?
Rosa felt a terrible cold.
That’s how Valeria always spoke: soft, sweet, putting fear where it hurt the most.
Then he remembered something he had tried to forget.
Three days before, when Alejandro traveled to Monterrey for work, Valeria forbade him from entering Mateo’s room.
—He needs discipline —he had told him—. If every time he cries you run to hug him, he will never accept that this family has changed.
That same day, Rosa found a large kitchen syringe in the sink, the kind used to inject marinade into meat. Next to her was an almost empty jar of honey and sugar scattered on the bar.
At that moment he didn’t give it any importance.
Now it made him want to vomit.
He went back up to the room. Mateo was drenched in sweat. He didn’t fight anymore. He wasn’t screaming anymore. He just gritted his teeth as silent tears ran down his temples.
—Rosa… —whispered—. Believe me?
She took his hand.
—Yes my boy. Believe you.
Outside, the thunder made the glass vibrate. Alejandro was still downstairs, trapped between fear and Valeria’s poisonous words.
Rosa knew that if she waited for permission, Mateo could die.
He went to the garage and opened the tool cabinet. He found some heavy industrial tweezers. He wrapped them in his shawl and went up slowly, praying softly.
Upon entering the room, he locked the door.
Almost immediately, Alejandro struck from outside.
—Pink! What are you doing?
Valeria shouted behind him:
—She’s crazy! It’s going to hurt the child!
Rosa didn’t answer.
He knelt next to Mateo.
—Stay still, my darling. I’m going to take out what’s killing you.
He tucked the tweezers into the edge of the cast.
CRACK.w
The sound split the house in two.
Another blow.
CRACK.
Then the smell came out.
Sweet.
Rotten.
Sick.
And just before Alejandro knocked down the door, Rosa saw something move inside the open plaster.
What he found there would force everyone to wait for the truth of part 3…
