Chapter 11 - The Tuesday of the Broth
Weeks bled into months, and the atmosphere in the house grew increasingly toxic and tense. Valeria spent entire afternoons locked in her upstairs bedroom, blasting the television, while the children were left to fend for themselves downstairs.
I tried to sneak them a piece of bread or an apple, but Valeria had strictly warned me that if she caught them eating outside of her designated mealtimes, she would punish them severely. The children were absolutely terrified of her wrath.
Then came last Tuesday. The day my entire world fell apart. It had started as a normal day. Carlos left before dawn. Valeria slept in and finally came downstairs in a foul mood.
She lazily prepared something quick to eat: a pathetic, watery broth that barely had a trace of chicken in it. She served three bowls, grabbed her purse, and announced she was going out with friends.
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"Eat everything," she ordered the boys before slamming the front door.
The broth was inedible—disgustingly salty and completely devoid of nutrition. The boys barely managed a few spoonfuls before pushing their bowls away.
