Saved by the Devil's Advocate

Renzo.

I walk slowly, trying to make the least noise while wielding my weapon, always on the lookout for a possible surprise attack.

The corridors of this place give me chills down my spine and it is surreal to imagine that people deliberately send mothers, fathers, uncles and so on, who will be trapped in this fetid place using as justification only the fact that they "need special care".

Walking these halls is like entering hell. Here, more patients in rags sit on the floor and in plastic chairs, rocking for comfort. They look too sedated to walk to the bathroom. There are puddles of urine on the mattresses and the clothes of some of the patients are covered by their own feces. The bad smell dominates the environment and I try, with all my strength, to control the nausea.

It is impossible to see any traces of humanity in these people who had their souls stolen, either out of greed or just because they were somehow undesirable to someone.

Lucio, Giorgio and Leonardo were separated and are in the other wings of the hospice and I hope from the bottom of my heart that they were luckier than me, because, honestly, it will take me a long time to digest what I am seeing here.

I continue walking through the filthy corridors, until at the end of it a door that must have been white once catches my attention. It is different from the others, made of wood instead of the iron railings of all the other rooms. The rest of this place looks like a prison, but whatever is behind that door, it must be different, given the care that is taken.

My focus is on the door in front of me, I approach it without taking my attention away from the surroundings and as soon as my hand touches the grimy doorknob and I make mention of turning it, a noise of metals falling coming from the other corridor to my left makes me alert and I turn around quickly pointing the gun in the direction of the noise, paralyzing as soon as my attentive gaze meets his frightened one.

Blue.

Of such a beautiful color that even the clearest sea does not reach your feet, such is its beauty. I even dare say that they would be even more beautiful, were they not clouded by the fear that my gun pointed at their head is capable of causing.

"For God's sake, don't do anything to me."

Her hands are raised in a clear sign of surrender and now there's only one thing I'd like to do with her...

What the f*ck, Renzo! Focus!

"Who are you?"

I ask without lowering my gun and watching attentively the frantic rise and fall of her breasts covered by the lab coat that seems too white for the place where we are.

"I work here. She says with watery eyes. "Don't kill me, please!"

Only now do I stop to observe the mess of paint on the floor, along with some canvases and brushes that she probably dropped because of fright when she saw me.

"What's your name?" I ask staring into his eyes.

"Barbara," her voice is beautiful, though shaky.

"Barbara, my name is Renzo and I'm here looking for a person, something tells me that you know who she is, so I suggest you answer my questions with the truth, because there are more people here looking for her and believe me, I'm the nicest of them," she nods.

"One of our patients, she is only calm if she is painting, I was going to take the week's canvases to her.

"Okay, now you're going to pass in front of me, with your hands where I can see, and you're going to lead me to this person, okay?" She widens her eyes.

"I can't, if she runs away from here I'm going to die!" His voice borders on despair.

"I don't think you understand yet, if you don't take me to her, you'll die too," I look at her coldly and unlock my gun. "But if you take me to her, I can let you live and protect you."

Barbara passes me still with her hands in the air and follows with hesitant steps to the door, the same one I almost opened a little while ago. She asks permission to take the keys from her pocket and I authorize it, gaping when the door is finally opened.

These canvases seem to have been painted by a kind of god, the well-defined lines give life to the flowery fields with the red colors that I now know to be Amálias, but it's not just the flowers, the person responsible for these drawings is simply brilliant. I'm speechless for a moment, until I see Barbara ignore my warning and run to a startled woman, huddled on the corner of the bed.

It's her. It can only be her.

I pick up my phone and call Lucio who answers quickly:

"I found it, I'm going out with her down the east hallway, give me cover."

I hang up and try to get closer to the woman who cringes in fear, as much as I insist that I'm here to help her, she doesn't undo the hug and suddenly I have an idea:

"If you come with us, I'll take Barbara along," she looks at me doubtfully, "I promise."

Barbara looks at her trying to give her some confidence and gradually leads the terrified woman towards the exit. As soon as we pass through the white door, Barbara looks away from the woman just for a minute, long enough to stare at me:

"Thank you." You saved our lives.

Barbara.

Eighteen.

I imagine that any girl under normal conditions would be jumping with anxiety for the date, but when you have nothing but a bunch of girls as abandoned as you, there is no reason to be happy.

It is strange to imagine that I was so unwanted as to be dropped, according to the mother still with the umbilical cord, and that for the next eighteen years, no one had any curiosity about my fate.

We are thirty girls, among the babies who arrive here daily, and those who, like me, just wait for the gates to open to be thrown into the street, out in the open, and without knowing what to expect from their own future.

Everything I know about love was taught to me in a mechanical way, and the few demonstrations of affection came through Mother Pearl, and my two best friends, Anita and Monique.

All the girls in the house, from the age of fourteen, are enrolled in courses in various areas, all taught here within the unit, in a kind of technical school attached to the shelter's premises. Like my friends, I went to the health area and today, according to Mother, I would be accepted in any hospital, which is strange since there is no diploma, and even though I don't know much about the world, I don't think it's normal for fourteen-year-old girls to learn how to use syringes, scalpels and the like.

- Good morning, sleeping beauty! Anita jumps on the bed where I pretend to be asleep "There's no point in pretending, Bah! You wake up with the chickens every day for seventeen years, eleven months and twenty-nine days, why would it be any different today?

"Why is today probably the last day I'll have a warm bed to wake up?" I say taking the blanket off my face with teary eyes "Or because after today, I won't wake up with your mess?"

Anita has always been the strongest of us, despite being the youngest, but even she is visibly frightened by my fate. We don't know anything outside of here, we don't have any contact with the outside world, and all we know is what the books in the library tell us.

"I know it's hard," she strokes my hair. "I'm afraid for you too, Barbara, but we need to enjoy this last day, don't we?" — forces a smile

"Yes, and let's enjoy it in style!"

I smile watching Monique approach with a small cake, covered in white Chantily and decorated with delicate camellias in shades of soft pink, so perfect that I find it hard to believe that they are made of sugar.

"I don't want to see even a tear coming out of those oceans you have there, Barbara!" "I didn't spend the night in the kitchen producing this beauty to see you cry."

I smile wiping away the tears that insist on falling, while admiring the perfection of the work of art that my friend made. Monique is the most dreamy of the three, and even though she studied health with us, she always repeats that when she leaves here, she will be a successful pastry chef, and given the perfection of the cake in front of me, I believe in her.

"I don't want to be away from you," I say in a choked voice

Anita wraps me in a tight hug as she repeats that we will be best friends forever. Monique puts the cake on the bedside table next to the bed and throws herself on top of us, making me laugh between tears, with the tickle she makes me.

"I love you, girls," I say after catching my breath. "Never forget, I love you as if you had my blood!"

"We don't need to have the same blood, friend," Anita kisses my cheek. "Our bond is soulful, and that's much stronger than any blood tie."

"You'll forever be our Miss Ocean," Monique says and I laugh. "And no matter how, or how long it takes, our trio will still get together."

We hugged for a few moments, until Mother Pearls entered with the other girls, and we all went to the cafeteria. We sang happy birthday, and when it was time to blow out the delicate pink candle, with touches of silver glitter, I just closed my eyes asking the universe that whatever it has in store for me, not bigger than I can bear, that it guides my destiny in the best possible way, And that one day, I can be like this with my friends, celebrating our life, and our freedom.

Barbara.

Of the many good memories of this place, the most striking and that will probably tear my chest with nostalgia, are those of these festive moments.

The funny thing is that I don't even know if the date on which I celebrate my birthday is the same as the one I was born, since I didn't have any record, but, considering that I still had the umbilical cord attached to my body, that was considered and the date set.

When we finish the whole ritual of singing happy birthday, making wishes and so on, it is finally time to cut the cake, and the golden spatula with a transparent handle that Monique received from her mother on last year's birthday is used.

My friends look at me attentively, and I already foresee the horde of complaints I'll receive, depending on who the first piece of cake goes to, so after thinking for a while I smile coming up with a solution.

"I couldn't give the first piece of cake without being unfair, since my heart beats the same