Bruja

⠀↳⠀1.0

( P r o l o g u e )
2005

"Mija," he called for his daughter, shaking her awake. She hummed, frowning, confused as to why her sleep was disrupted. It was around three in the morning and too much activity was happening outside for anyone to be asleep. "Remember when we were all playing hide and seek? And I showed you the absolute best place to hide?"

The small eight-year-old girl could only nod at her father as she rubbed her eyes, suppressing a yawn from coming. The braid she slept in was already coming loose and a few strands of dark hair were poking out and decorating her face with soft waves.

He managed to sit her up. "Well, we are going to play again, okay?" He tried to distract her from the distant noise by placing the loose strands behind her ears, a subtle way of trying to get his hands to cover them. Even trying to hide it, she could still hear the panic in his voice. And his eyes... The fear they held couldn't be missed.

"What about mama?"

"Mama will be playing too." Desperate to get her out of the room, he picked her up and brought her to a hallway.

She rested her head on the nape of his neck, her arms wrapped around his shoulders in a tight but comfortable hold. She let out a small yawn. "Is she going to hide too?" She tilted her head to look at him, but he only nodded.

He took her to a hallway with walls covered in framed paintings and console tables holding treasured ceramics. They were all original works, and to get them required dirty work: he would steal the art and antiques while his wife would put prices on them and sell whichever ones she didn't want to keep to decorate their home. Call it a small family business.

He dropped his daughter off in front of a particular oil painting: Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird. Many people think the original one is in a museum, but little do they know the Frida Kahlo painting was sitting in one of the halls of a Zacatecas home.

Lifting the black-framed oil painting enough for his index finger to search for an indent in the wall, he gently pressed on it and placed the painting back. The whole section started to vibrate as it slid back. When it reached its limit, it moved to the side, allowing them access to the secret room.

He gently pushed her inside. "Stay in there. Do not come out no matter what you hear, ¿me entiendes?"

Do you understand me?

She nodded, the tiredness gone and replaced by awareness of what might be happening. "Sí."

Yes.

"I love you, muñeca, remember that."

Muñeca. Doll.

That was the last thing she heard from him before the wall separated them, leaving her alone in the room while he was on the other side.

She exhaled through her nose as she stared at it, unaware her father placed his hand flat against the wall to cherish her presence one last time before parting. She was told it was soundproof, so anything she did couldn't be heard from the other side. That didn't stop her paranoid head from trying to be quiet.

She turned around and faced the space of the safe room. It was different the last time she was here, even for only a few minutes. It was much homier now, which gave her the impression that she would be here for much longer, just as she predicted.

Too awake to try and fall asleep, she went to the corner where a bookshelf well past her height of four feet and five inches stood. She placed a finger on the spine of one of the books. She remembered when her parents took her to a bookstore and told her whatever book her little fingers touched would be bought. Being their only one, she was truly spoiled and loved by them. She ended up reading some of them, and as for the others... Let's just say now she saw what they did with them. They brought them here because they knew she would be here again. She didn't think twice about it at first, but now she felt stupid for not realizing why she was brought here in the first place.