Soledad froze in the opening.

The bottle slipped from her hand and struck the floor and did not break, and rolled, and the sweetness spread.

And then Soledad’s face crumpled and she began to weep — not the weeping of someone caught, but of someone who had been waiting a long time to be caught, and was almost grateful.

“Mother,” she said.

“Forgive me.

If I stop, he’ll hurt us.

He’ll hurt all of us.”