The Hacienda

by Isabel Cañas

“You said your family doesn’t want you. That means you’re one of us, now.” Her voice grew distant, cold, as if it were coming from the mouth of a much older woman. “That means you’re trapped in San Isidro, just like the rest of us. And you’ll die here like the rest of us.”

For if sin was all I had standing between myself and the darkness, I would take it.

Men do not trouble themselves with women’s bodies, save when they can be of use to

Words can damn or bless in equal measure, and are never to be used lightly.

“Yes, it’s me,” I said, a feral grin pulling my lips taut. I shifted my weight, and with a flush of will, seized the darkness itself and held it in a stranglehold. “Now stay out of my way.”