THE TRUTH IN THE LIGHT

I dropped my little sister off at her house; her adoptive parents didn't seem worried, as if it were normal for her to arrive in the early hours of the morning.

“At least she arrived well,” says the father, unconcerned.

“Is it normal for me to arrive at this hour?” I asked, annoyed.

“Miss Ximena, she is of age; we can't tell her anything; besides, she threatens to leave, and we really need her,” this time the false mother answers me.

“She or the money I give you to keep her well” comes out because the liquor loosens my tongue.

“Look, Ximena insults us; we love Emily; we take her to the doctor; we take care of her the best we can; what happens is that she is complicated,” explains the mother, twisting her eyes.

“What do you mean, ma'am?”

“Emily grew up limited by her illness, watching children play through the windows; in high school, she was teased because she couldn't do physical education. They thought she was lazy; she was always embarrassed if they knew about her illness. This made