I couldn't look away.
Then I found a hospital document.
It stated that Elena had been born with a serious medical condition.
She had survived.
But barely.
The final document was dated six months after our birth.
It stated that she had been transferred to another hospital.
Then there was nothing.
No death certificate.
No adoption papers.
No explanation.
Just a blank space where the rest of her life should have been.
## The Voice Behind the Door
I went upstairs again.
This time, I wasn't afraid.
I was angry.
I stood outside the locked room.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then the voice came again.
"I'm sorry."
I recognized it now.
Not because I had heard it recently.
Because I had heard it once when I was a child.
A recording.
A woman speaking to my mother.
I remembered asking who she was.
My mother had told me she was an old friend.
