They made us sleep on the floor with my children… Three days later, my mother called me 98 times begging for forgiveness.

children.

“Pack your things, my loves.”

Lucía looked scared. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” I said, stroking her hair. “We’re going somewhere people know how to treat us.”

My mother laughed. “Clara, it’s eleven at night.”

Vanessa lifted her glass. “Good luck finding somewhere now.”

I handed the sleeping bags back to my mother.

“Keep them.”

Her eyes hardened.

“If continue reading …