I broke into a house in Coyoacán to steal, but found a blind girl tied to a chair. She whispered, “Did my mom come back to sell me again?” I decided to steal her back instead. As we reached the front door, heavy footsteps echoed from the dark hallway, and a voice growled, “Who is in there?”…

my arms, the stench of unwashed clothes and lingering fear radiating from her. I frantically scanned the pitch-black room for an alternative exit, a window, a back corridor—anything.

As my eyes desperately traced the shadows near the kitchen entryway, a sliver of ambient street light caught something deliberately taped to the rear of the heavy wooden continue reading …