"You didn't talk at all?" Caterina eyed her sister's blush, too amused. "Again?"

"He... puts his hands on me... and I just--" there was no point in explaining so Carmela sighed to end her sentence then crumbled on the too tall bed, face-first into the pillow. The only place the twins could talk freely was their room, they feared surveillance everywhere else in the house. They knew their mother would not tolerate them being watched in their bedroom, it was very important to the woman who'd escaped from The Communist Handmaid's Tale that all her three of her girls had privacy and room to fail. There was nothing Franco could do to scare any of the Walter women, despite them acting as if his word was the law. Even Catalina knew that: when she wanted to take up ballet lessons and her father refused, all she had to do was to bring it up at dinner, in front of Alina.

"Oh, mom will be pissed," Caterina bit the inside of her cheek. "She said she'd be gone for a few days, so our to-do list? Everything Franco says. Especially Carmela," she imitated the familiar matriarchal tone.

Carmela was ready to start her life, too. Wait--maybe in Oz's bed--for the escape plan to unfold. Her mother would just have to deal with it, so Carmela sent her another message: We need to talk. Third, that day. It was Alina's secret phone, so it was unnerving that she didn't answer. 

A text from Franco called the twins into his office, instead.