“No.

Never.” “This is less than two days old,” the doctor said quietly.

“Someone administered something to you while you slept.

A sedative, most likely — something to keep you under.

That would explain the lost nights, the fog, all of it.” Amparo’s hand went to her mouth.

“But my cell is locked from the inside,” she whispered.

“How does someone come into a locked room at night?”

Guadalupe did not answer that question, because she had no answer, but she did something more useful: she examined the other affected sisters that same afternoon, quietly, one by one, and found on two of them the same faint marks in the same tender place, in the same stage of healing.