Maybe it was her distrust with her ears, or the gun pointed at her face, and she hoped he pulled the trigger; perhaps it was how her mother's face suddenly looked sober, avoiding her gaze, or even how Anna's mouth opened like a goldfish.
Who am I?
"Dad," Anna's sober voice was curious. "Dad, is it true?"
Alfredo's eyes were still on Maya when he spilled, "Yes, Anna, she's not your sister. She's your cousin."
It all made sense—why she never felt part of a family that she grew up thinking was hers, the hatred, the frequent degradation. It all boiled down to this.
Her clear voice came up, a little slurred, making her wonder if it was her talking or the alcohol. "All this time you made me feel like shit was because I wasn't one of you." She laughed, and Alfredo's gun lowered. "I wish I had known this sooner, Alfredo!"
Murmurs swept through the crowd. The woman came forward; her shiny blue dress and beautiful makeup didn't do enough to hide the disdain on her face.
"He is still your father,
