Its BOLD Publishing

Maybe it was a twinkle. Maybe it was a spark. She was odd—that’s for sure. A silhouette that could camouflage, become dense, or a current so strong your knees would buckle, then just like that, frozen in time, mesmerized by her energy, power, magic. Calthia was dropped off at headquarters when she was 18. She was pale with button eyes, unblemished skin, and long, spiraled golden hair. Naturally. She didn’t talk for the first 10 years. She was curious and spent hours learning about her environment. I would see her sitting near the water, looking at her reflection, mumbling, then she would twirl gracefully, and strut back into the forest, sit beneath whichever oak called her, cross her legs, then pull them up into her chest and cry. Our counsel discussed her weekly, ending with the same expectation: we’ll give her time. Time. I’ve been part of the counsel for over 100 years and part of headquarters for over four hundred years. She had plenty of time.

There is beauty here in the valley. The palm trees, bright sun, and the warmth of time offer endless moments of hope or desperation, depending on your perspective. Because there is also a darkness so thick that it hovers with the hidden pain of loss. Loss of innocence. That’s where evil lies—in the cracks or fractures of a system; abuse, exploitation, greed, and death, spiritual and physical, haunt women like Margarita Lopez here, in the valley. At the age of 17, Margarita was at the head of her class with a 4.0 GPA. She was a star cheerleader and the co-captain of the soccer team. She volunteered at the local nursing home not far from her school. She attended mass with her family on Sundays and was a role model to her younger siblings, Mateo, and Marin, who were 10 and 11, and the twins, Marisol and Maribel, who were 8. Her Mother was named Margarita too—35, beautiful, and the envy of many. She was a mother of five, with the body of a 21-year-old, and married to Salvador Lopez, who was 20 years older, and a wealthy businessman.