Vince turned the pages of the notebook with the written bold numbers 1990. Cold sweat trickle on his forehead as he carefully turned the worn-out pages of the journal. The diary was a hodgepodge of different journals carefully stitched at the side. Some words have faded away through time, whispering its secret in thin air.

*************

Name: Victoria Lopez

Birthday: August 20, 1985

Birthplace: Albuquerque, Mexico

Mother: Catalina Lopez

Father: Jose Lopez

Date: January 20, 1990

My name is Victoria. Call me, Vicky. I am four years old.

###

Underneath was a black and white picture of a little girl in a ruffled dress, knee-high white socks paired with ankle-high boots. She was staring blankly into space, hair parted halfway braided on both ends, resembling Wednesday from Adams Family, with her grim face. Next to her was a woman in a knee-length plain white dress and a white veil on her head. She was smiling brightly toward the camera.

The caption said…

Vicky and Sister Maria.

###

Date: January 1990

Happy new year. Mama said I will be an older sister. I will call our baby Angel.

Date: February 1990

I am happy. Mama gave me a doll. Her name is A.

Date: August 20, 1990.

Today is my birthday. I am now 5 years old.

Glued on the page was a worn-out picture of Little Vicky dressed in a pastel blue pleated skirt and matching blue blouse, hair tied in a bun with a mini-hat clipped on her hair, holding a pink balloon. To her right was a beautiful woman with brown beach wave hair, bright brown eyes like Vicky, a dashing smile, hands rested on her baby bump. She was wearing a low scoop green lacy blouse and knee-length pleated black skirt. To her left was a young man with a mustache squinting his eyes, right hand on his waist while the other hand was on little Vicky’s shoulders. He was wearing a long white chino shirt casually folded to his elbow, over a suspender attached to black trousers.

The heading said…

MY FAMILY. Papa Jose, Mama Catalina, and Baby Angel.

On the next page, Vicky drew a man smiling while painting on a canvas, which she captioned Papa. Next to it was woman sewing clothes, which she labeled Mama. Then, she drew a bungalow with a garden where a little girl was watering the plants. She wrote, ‘me.’

Date: September 20, 1990

My baby sister is here. Her name is Angel.

Date: December 25, 1990

Merry Christmas! Best Christmas!

Santa, please give me a new dress and shoes.

Beneath the entry was an old colored picture of two little girls, standing next to each other. One was wearing a blue satin dress, and the other wore a pink satin dress with identical designs and matching satchel and cap.

On the next pages were newspaper cut-outs hastily pasted on each leaf.

December 1985

Before and After pictures of Albuquerque after the massive earthquake with a magnitude of 7.8 destroying billions of dollars worth of infrastructure and killing thousands of Mexicans.

Before and after photos of La Ropa de Sanchez, the most prestigious clothing factory in Albuquerque crumbled into pieces. Owned by the famous philanthropist Mr. And Mrs. Alberto Sanchez, who had an only child named Catalina Sanchez, married Jose Lopez.

A graveyard where the thousands of people who died in the earthquake lay. Caption where it says Abuela and Abuelo.

Another picture showed the Monastery of Hope, where thousands of Mexicans sought refuge during the calamity. People of all ages scattered on the floor while nuns and priests roamed around, giving clothes, food, and drinks.

November 1991

Albuquerque went under great strife. Tornado hit the area killing animals and humans, washing off all the crops and harvest, destroying buildings and infrastructures.

**************

Vince felt a heavyweight on his chest, coughing as he closed the pages of the first journal Vicky wrote in her younger years. Mother superior Maria reached out her hand, saying, “She was a brave child, and I’ve seen her blossom into a beautiful lady.” Then she recounted some of the incidents after the hurricane.

**************

It was November 10, 1991, when Albuquerque was hit with a super typhoon sweeping anything it passed through. Vicky’s humble abode was not spared from the raging storm, hurling the makeshift roof and wooden walls of the single-story house. The family took shelter in the nearby monastery where Vicky was often left as they watched their house crumble into pieces. Jose, their father, was caught up in the farm, where he worked. He was trying to save as much as harvest as they can, putting his own life at risk.

Later that night, news broke out in the monastery that the hurricane caused humongous damage on a nearby farm. The news spread like wildfire in the swarm of people inside the church. Silence drowned with woes and whispers across the room.

In one corner of the enormous place served as a temporary space for the Lopez household. Catalina was folding their clothes, Victoria reading her book while Angel was on her lap sleeping. Sister Maria approached Catalina and whispered to her ear. She rose up, asked Sister Maria to look after the children, then dashed outside.

Outside, the wind whistled at night, carrying with its drizzle of rain from the storm that had passed. Catalina clutched her jacket to keep her warm as the volunteers escorted her to the monastery van. She, together with 5 more ladies and gentlemen, rode the vehicle amid the whirling wind. The van shaking every time the raging wind hit them. Two older ladies started to pray with their rosary. They prayed for the storm to stop and for the safety of their families. The vehicle stopped in front of the hospital an hour later.

The volunteers together with Catalina and the rest rushed inside the hospital, which was in a frenzy. Everywhere, they can see stretchers with bodies hurled inside one after the other. Doctors and nurses escorted from one patient to the next shouting orders here and there.

Catalina’s eyes breezed through the emergency room, looking for a figure amid chaos. When she found Jose, he was lying on a hospital bed face aghast. She felt her heart stopped at that moment, a large lump on her throat, knees, and hands trembling, choking as she let her tears fall on her cheeks. He lay there tubes connected, body filled with bruises and with one less leg. Her future shattered as if she stood there brain dead, nothing made any sense.

For the next few days, Catalina had to stay in the hospital waiting for instructions from the doctors. Meanwhile, the monastery sisters babysat the sisters, Victoria and Angel. A couple who barely had any child tend to their care. They introduced themselves as Pedro and Helen. They gifted the sisters with a pair of walkman and cassette tapes for young children to cheer them up.

Catalina would shuffle from the monastery checking in with the kids, their house to fix their things, the canteen to cook and earn a living, and the hospital to look after her disabled husband. Her body became frail after days of working non-stop.

Six months passed after Jose was discharged from the hospital barely spoke a word nor looked at her daughters. Catalina was his leg and arms, assisting him in sitting down and moving around. With so much on her plate, all she could do was to live one day at a time. Barely making ends meet.

A year later, they moved back to their house when Vicky was 7 and Angel 2. Catalina went back to sewing as a living, taking them all in, from curtains, bedsheets to rags. Vicky would help her sell the items in the market with Angel in tow leaving behind Jose at home. Barely enough money to buy for their daily necessities, they were unable to purchase pain relievers for Jose. Soon, he succumbed to alcohol to relieve the pain in his legs. But, the temporary relief turned into a permanent habit that got him drunk every single day.

Every day, Vicky would bring her sister to the monastery or their neighbor’s house and wait until their father has slept. Vicky would piggyback Angel, sneaking inside their room, careful not to wake their Papa.

When sober, he would not even bother looking at them. And when he was drunk, he turned at them with the hands of a tyrant like a monster possessed. Vicky would let Angel sleep and hide in the closet with their walkman on until their father calmed down.

Luckily, their neighbors, Pedro and Helen, were happy to babysit on her behalf as she helped her mom make a living.

Jose has made progressions as he can now use crutches to move around. He took the chance to take off and leave the house every chance he gets. Jose would bring all the cash that Catalina gave him and spend them in one go. And, if she failed to provide him with money, he would throw a fit, cursing and hitting her like a punching bag.

Catalina was conflicted with emotions knowing her money was just enough for their daily sustenance and a little bit for the girl’s education. Knowing he’d pester her every single time, she kept some of the money in a small tin can in their cupboard, without him knowing.

On December 25, 1993, the Lopez ladies went out to hear mass and bought some Christmas goodies along the way. As they went nearer to their house, they froze on their tracks. They heard a loud voice, screaming at the top of his lungs. Glasses shattering, the wood breaking into pieces and deafening thugs, the sound of something that hit a hard surface. Neighbors gathered outside the house watching the drama unfolds.

“It’s him again,” whispered an old lady.

“He is such a pain in the ass. We should call the police and report him. He is a troublemaker,” said another.

The ladies trembled with each step. Watching their clothes, furniture, and books were thrown out on the street.

“Where’s my money?” Yelling at the top of his voice, “Catalina… Catalina, you better show up, or I will burn this house!” swearing and cussing as if there’s no tomorrow.

It was their father, Jose Lopez, making a ruckus in their own house. Victoria flinched while Angel hid behind her sister. Catalina rushed inside the house, and her jaw dropped at sight. The once organized small house was a disaster. Their father turned their home upside down, with the strength and angst of The Hulk.

Victoria held on to her sister’s hands and pulled her close. They ran to the garden that led them to the back of their house. Victoria opened the back door quietly, walked through the kitchen, peering behind the cabinet, and was flabbergasted at what she saw.

“Stop it,” Catalina begged on her knees, “The children will hear you. Can you let it go for once? It’s Christmas,” tears fell on her eyes, swallowing all her pride. None of the neighbors whispering and spreading rumors about them matters. All she cared for was her children.

“The hell with Christmas,” he yanked her sending Catalina to the ground.

Angel gasped, and her heart skipped a beat. Her little hands trembled, started to hiccup, choking back her tears.

Vicky’s heart pounded against her chest. Too loud that it drowned the yelling and shattering sound from their living room.

Then she felt a small body squirming next to her, shaking terribly. Her heart sank. If only she could spare her sister and mother from such violence, she would. And vowed to protect them at all costs.

Vicky pulled Angel closer, knelt down, wiped her tears, “Sssh… we will go to your quiet place. But, first, let’s look for A,” she whispered.

Angel hiccuped, blinked back her tears, and nuzzled her head to her sister’s shoulder, trying to block the sound from the room.

Vicky scooped her into her arms, asking her to cover her ears while they tiptoed to their bedroom. Inside the room, Vicky looked frantically for A and the walkman. She opened their dresser, tucked Angel in, handing her the doll and walkman. Vicky turned on the player with her favorite baby song playing in full blast. Grabbing her own mufflers, she sat next to her sister and lay Angel’s head on her lap. She closed her eyes while humming a tune, trying to stifle the noise while tears fell down on her cheeks.

A few minutes later, Angel fell asleep with headsets on, clinging on to A.

The hour passed, an eerie silence fell in the room. Vicky opened her eyes, carefully put Angel’s head on a pile of clothes, and stepped out of the closet. Then, outside their bedroom. The living room light was blinking, the stench of alcohol and burning wood filled the air, shattered glass, and broken furniture scattered everywhere.

“Mama, mama,” Vicky whispered, voice trembling, her heart racing a mile per second, and hands shaking. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a body on the floor swimming in blood. “Mamaaaa,” she cried, running towards the body on the ground.

“Run,” Catalina whispered with a shuddering tone, “run,” her hands shook, pointing out to something next to Victoria.

Vicky looked at her back and saw flames coming from the kitchen, engulfing the rest of their house. Her head spinning, coughing loudly as tears fell down on her cheeks. Right at that moment, Angel stepped out from the bedroom, coughing and crying. On her right hand was the doll, and on her left hand was the walkman.

“Where are you, Catalina?” Jose shouted from the kitchen.

“Go,” Catalina pushed Vicky away, “Go and save Angel,” she said with every ounce of energy left in her body.

Vicky stood up and swopped Angel into her arms, running out in the open air, stumbling a few meters away. Pedro and Helen were standing outside when Vicky squeezed her way out. “Please take her with you. Go away!’ bawling her eyes out.

Helen reached out for Angel and found comfort in the lady’s arms. When Vicky’s arms were freed, she bolted to the burning house, making onlookers shrieked in horror.

“Mama, mamaaa,” she yelled, squinting her eyes, coughing and pulling her clothes to cover her nose. “Mama, mama.”

Outside, people were screaming. A bunch of guys and firefighters stormed into the room, grabbing Vicky with them. She shrieked, kicking all over the place as she was brought of the burning flames.

*********************

“That was the last time that Vicky saw her sister, Angel,” Mother Superior Maria uttered while patting Vince’s back.

Vince’s face was pale like every blood had been drained from his face, his jaw dropped as tears fell from his eyes.