“Hi, sweetheart. I’m Clara. Can I sit with you?” she asked in a voice so gentle that even I felt a small sense of relief.
Lucía nodded slightly.
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.”
