March 23rd, 1969

Dear Alondra,

I've missed you these past weeks. I waited at the last two visitation sessions, sure you would show. You didn't. I understand why.

I'm sorry I told you about Tari, but it's true. Dr. Pilsner has instilled in me an added sense of honesty, on top of the honesty Mama always stressed.

I don't want to seem ungrateful. You at least come visit me, or you did before. Thinking on it now, Natalia has only been to see me once in six years. I've painted her a few pictures. Will you tell her that for me? I know from Tari that she has been to visit you at least four times. I wonder why she won't come see me.

Our painting sessions were fun. These days, the canvas beside me stands empty.

If only you would let me come home, then I wouldn't have to wait to paint with you or the girls. I know you said it's not really your decision, but you are my sister. Luto will never agree to let me leave.

At the risk of you never going to see me again, I have to tell you this. An additional confession which will probably make you hate me. The first time I ever confessed anything to you, you put me in here. With the second thing I ever told you, you shunned me. I wonder what you will do to me after reading this.

Yes, Tari and I have been talking, in the special way. The way you said nauseated you. Right after I let you know that, you took the girls and left. But I wasn't done. I had more to show you, which your daughter had shown me.

Mostly, she and I just shared thoughts. It was nice to know that someone else can do what I do. I'm not as odd, as freakish as people believed. I may not have been able to hear the whispers, but I felt them. Even Mama was afraid of what I could do. I know that.

While we painted, Tari really opened up. With each brush stroke of her adorably dimpled hand, she also painted pictures in my head.

All of them feature your husband. Most of them, he was screaming at her or your other daughter, Lisa. In a few of them, your girls were huddled in a corner as he beat them with a belt. He told you they got the bruises playing softball, but that's a lie. He doesn't know how to handle them, and so he just hits them.

I know Papi disciplined us in this way, and Genea beat Luto black and blue. But these girls are so small. Two and four.

One of Tari's memories were particularly disturbing in another way. After bath time, her father did not wrap her in a towel. Instead, he clutched her against him, rocking her, even though she did not need to be comforted. He ran his hands over her hair, and continued holding her, muttering to himself. He only put her down when Lisa knocked on the door, needing to use the bathroom. As Tari is only four, she does not realize the relevance of what he did.

You and I are in our 30's, well past the age of innocence, and we know that he is dangerous. You've never seen him fully for the monster that he is. I urge you to see it now.

Even if you don't believe me, ask your daughter. She will tell you the truth. And you were there with us at the last painting session. We did not sign, and she did not speak to me. There could be no other way that I could have imparted this information to her.

I am sorry to be telling you this, and to read it in a letter is even worse. Yet, a letter is the best way for me to communicate. Writing, like painting, is freeing.

Telling the truth is freeing.

You needed to know this. I hope you do what is best with this knowledge.

Please, consider letting me out of here. It's not good for a person to be locked up like this. I'm better now, and I'm not going to hurt anyone.

I'm afraid what will happen to me if I stay here much longer.

I'm afraid Pedro will wake up again.

I love you, and hope to see you soon.

-Camila