The first lock of hair fell to the ground without a sound.
Alicia did not scream. She did not stand up. She did not pull away the hands that rested, open and trembling, on her ivory-colored skirt. She remained kneeling in the backyard of the old house, her gaze fixed on the dry earth as the blade once again scraped across her scalp.
Behind her, Doña Mercedes Robles, her stepmothe
