Clara managed to get her to repeat what she had told me: that someone had taught her not to eat when she “misbehaved,” that it was “better that way,” that “good girls don’t ask for food.” She didn’t name names. She didn’t point the finger at anyone directly. But the implication was obvious, and it broke my heart to hear her say it again.
The officer took notes, and when she finished, she looked at me seriously.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital so a pediatrician can examine her. She doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger, but she does need attention. Besides, we can talk to her more calmly there.”
I agreed without thinking. I packed a small backpack with some clothes and Lucía’s stuffed animal, the only thing that seemed to give her any comfort.
At the pediatric emergency room of La Fe Hospital, they took us to a private room. A young doctor examined the girl gently. His words were a slap of reality:
“She’s malnourished, but not critically. However, what’s worrying is that she doesn’t show normal eating habits for her age. It’s something learned, not spontaneous.”
The officers took statements while Lucía fell asleep, exhausted. I tried to answer, although every word made me feel more and more guilty. How could I not have seen it before? How could I not have insisted?
When they finished, Clara took me aside.
—We know this is hard, but what you did today may have saved his life.
“And Javier?” I asked, a lump forming in my throat. “Do you think…?”
Clara sighed.
“We don’t know everything yet. But there are indications that someone in his previous life used food as a form of punishment. He may have known… or he may not have.”
My phone rang: a message from Javier saying he had arrived at his hotel in Madrid. He knew nothing about what had happened.
The police advised me not to tell him anything for the time being.
We spent the night under observation. The next morning, a child psychologist arrived and spoke with Lucía for a long time. I didn’t understand everything she said, but enough to feel a chill: there was fear, conditioning, and secrets kept for far too long.
And then, just when I thought I had heard everything, the psychologist left the room, her face serious.
“I need to talk to you. Lucía has just revealed something else… something that changes everything.”
The psychologist led me to a small room next to the emergency room. Her hands were clasped together, like someone preparing to deliver inevitably painful news.
“Your stepdaughter said that…” she took a breath, “…that it was her biological mother who punished her by withholding food. But she also said something about Javier.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That he knew what was happening. That he saw her crying, that he tried to secretly hide food from her… but that, according to the girl, he told her that ‘she shouldn’t interfere,’ that ‘her mother knew what she was doing.’”
I froze. That didn’t necessarily mean that he had been involved… but it did mean that he hadn’t done anything. Nothing.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Children her age can confuse details, but they don’t create these kinds of patterns out of thin air. And most importantly: she’s saying this out of fear. Fear of disappointing someone. Fear of being punished again.”
Javier’s words echoed in my head: “She’ll get used to it.”
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
