That's how I was born in a house with fairy tales, fear and voices of the unsub that call my name every night, and my mother threatens me, slit the wall, come to steal me from my parents, but my mother fires him, tells him I'm a good and good girl... as my mother, his cousins, his sisters and his mother, invented his fabricated stories, not his blood, and my father swabbled me through his grief. Well, in a round between reality and imagination, she writes something out of memory and a quote of journalism with her creative obsession.