HER DAUGHTER LOCKED HER IN A BASEMENT AND SEALED IT WITH BRICKS… BUT 10 YEARS LATER SHE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR… A MOTHER WAS LOCKED IN A BASEMENT BY HER OWN DAUGHTER.
The first brick wasn’t the hardest.
It was the second one.
Because in the first one you can still pretend that you are doing something necessary.
In the second one… you already know what you’re building.
Ulysses did not stop.
He didn’t think.
He didn’t look up.
He just kept going.
One.
Then another one.
The sound of cement mixing with water was thick.
Clingy.
As if the air itself refused to move.
Upstairs, the house remained silent.
But it was not an empty silence.
He was one who listened.
One that he kept.
Estela couldn’t open her eyes.
I couldn’t move my hands.
I couldn’t speak.
But she wasn’t completely gone.
There was something.
A thread.
Fine.
Holding her.
I did not understand.
I couldn’t put it into words.
But I felt it.
The weight on my body was not a dream.
It was… something more.
Something was pushing her down.
Towards a place from which there was no return.
He tried to breathe harder.
He couldn’t.
The air was coming in… but it wasn’t responding.
As if her body were no longer entirely her own.
And then…
I’m listening.
Not with your ears.
Deeper.
A blow.
Dry.
Rhythmic.
I didn’t know what it was.
But he felt it.
One.
Then another one.
Then another one.
As if someone were shutting something down.
As if someone were…
finishing something.
Below, Ulysses wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm.
The wall was already halfway up.
There was no room for doubt.
Just to finish.
—Hurry up— said Veronica from the stairs.
It didn’t go down.
He refused to see.
-I’m coming.
Her voice sounded lower than she expected.
Not because of tiredness.
For a reason I didn’t want to mention.
Veronica crossed her arms.
—I don’t want it to be left unfinished like this.
Silence.
“No one is going to look for her,” he added. “She has no one.”
The phrase fell flat.
Cold.
As if it were a justification.
As if repeating it made it true.
Ulysses did not answer.
He just kept going.
Cement.
Brick.
Cement.
Brick.
Above…
Something changed.
Not in Estela’s body.
In his mind.
An image.
Small.
Simple.
Veronica as a child.
With hands dirty with dirt.
Laughing.
Asking for help to plant flowers in the yard.
“Mom, is this okay?”
And she was correcting.
Gently.
Patiently.
—That’s right, my love… carefully.
The image didn’t hurt.
Not as it should be.
It was… clear.
Peaceful.
As something that was no longer tied to the present.
He tried to hold on to that.
No to fear.
No to weight.
That’s it.
To what it had been.
Below, Ulysses placed another brick.
The wall almost completely closed off the space.
There was little left.
Very little.
—Almost there—he said.
I didn’t know who it was for.
Maybe for him.
Perhaps to finally convince himself.
Veronica did not respond.
But he went down a step.
Just one.
Enough to see the gap.
Enough to confirm that there was no turning back.
“Do it right,” he said. “Don’t make it obvious.”
Ulysses nodded.
But his hands were no longer so steady.
Not for lack of strength.
Because of the rhythm.
Something had become out of place.
Above…
Estela’s body was still.
But something inside her…
It wouldn’t turn off.
That thread.
That small point of awareness.
He didn’t fight.
He wasn’t shouting.
I was just… there.
And in that being…
Something changed.
It wasn’t a thought.
It wasn’t a decision.
It was simpler.
Minimal resistance.
Not disappearing completely.
Below, the last space was left in front of Ulysses.
A small rectangle.
Enough to shut everything down.
So that no trace would be left.
He lifted the brick.
He held it for a second.
Two.
The cement dripped.
—Put it on —said Veronica.
His voice was not strong.
But he had no doubts.
Ulysses looked at the hole.
Dark.
Silent.
And for the first time…
He didn’t see a space.
He saw… a consequence.
Not in the future.
Now.
At that moment.
Her hands trembled.
Very little.
But enough.
—Ulysses.
He didn’t scream.
But the pressure was there.
He inhaled.
And then…
He placed it.
The brick fit.
The sound was dry.
End.
The cement covered the edges.
Fast.
Efficient.
Irreversible.
The wall was completed.
Smooth.
No markings.
As if it had always been there.
Veronica let out a breath.
Slow.
-That’s it.
There was no relief.
Just… emptiness.
Ulysses stared at the wall.
Not much.
Just enough to know that I couldn’t undo it.
Then he turned off the lamp.
The lights went out.
The basement returned to darkness.
Upstairs, the house remained the same.
The table is set.
The plates in their place.
The soup is cooling down.
As if nothing had happened.
But something is true.
Something that didn’t make any noise.
That it couldn’t be seen.
But it was already there.
Installed.
That night, Veronica did not sleep well.
It wasn’t my fault.
Not quite.
It was… awkward.
Like a small stone inside a shoe.
It doesn’t stop you.
But it doesn’t let you forget that it’s there.
He got up.
She walked to the kitchen.
He drank water.
He looked at the table.
Three courses.
She remained still.
One second longer than normal.
Then he set one aside.
Just one.
He took it to the sink.
It made no noise.
I didn’t want to.
He went back to his room.
He lay down.
He closed his eyes.
But the dream didn’t come easily.
Because the silence of the house…
He was no longer the same.
Below…
where the light didn’t reach…
where no voices remained…
where it all should have ended…
that little thread…
It didn’t break.
It didn’t grow.
He didn’t scream.
He didn’t move.
But it didn’t disappear either.
He stayed.
Like something that doesn’t understand how to proceed…
But he doesn’t know how to leave either.
And sometimes…
That’s enough.
Not to save.
Not yet.
But if…
so as not to disappear completely.