Marga was not a regular girl. She had never really been one, and instead of worrying her, she was pleased to be seen that way. That had saved her a few bad moments both at home and in the places she frequented.

She had never met a partner, so among the gossip of the neighborhood, it was said that she was "deviant", however, nothing could be further from the truth that only she knew.

She tended to be a loner, and community work was something she honestly enjoyed. In fact, after high school, her first college choice was to study to be a social worker.

She managed to bring about a change in people's attitudes that even with psychological treatment many were not capable of. There was a gift that she knew she had and she used it without any consideration when someone asked for it, or she sensed that her intervention was necessary.

The old ladies who always went to mass used to comment that Marga should be a nun, and enter the convent to prepare herself to "receive the Lord", a comment that made her laugh too much, because she did not see herself dressed as the rebellious novice.

She already knew what she wanted in her life, and worked quietly to achieve it.

Sometimes, as she walked down the street, her lips would move, especially when she was lost in thought and her gaze was lost, and she would only react when someone called her name, changing the expression on her face to a smile.

The frequent neighbors, who always sat on the sidewalk in the afternoons, thought it was a nervous tic, but she was so good that they didn't question that particular trait.

Marga, in those moments of solitude that came with moving from one place to another, mumbled through her teeth her plan. She observed everything, detailing every corner and face in her path. It was a route she made every day from her home to the community center where she worked. No one would be suspicious.

Being a trusted person in the office, he had access to all the files. And there was one that, in reviewing the cases assigned to him, caught his attention. Although it was not his directly, it related to that of Agustín, an 8-year-old boy who had been abused by a family member.

The boy had been removed from his family and was living in a foster home that had served for years in the recovery of abused children and youth.

The Gonzalez family was almost an ally of the organization. The couple, who had been left with an empty nest, did not hesitate to take in those who for whatever reason had been left without a family. They had a large house, with a backyard that even housed a park and a small pool.

The children seemed to feel at ease at first, then they became withdrawn and very quiet. Everyone thought it was a product of the trauma with which they arrived at the hands of the social service.

But Marga had discovered something in that file that explained everything. The pieces fit together so easily, it was amazing how they hadn't discovered it before!

In her solitary conversations, Marga searched for a way to unmask the person who, for many years, had marked in the worst possible way those who came to her house in search of help.

Lorena Gonzalez was a frail-looking lady, her 1.55 centimeters tall and pale complexion helped her to appear so. She had a very high-pitched voice, which seemed to be singing instead of speaking.

And that voice was the one that tormented the children of the house at night.

Felipeeeee... shouted from the back of the kitchen, and the trembling child approached with short steps, not wanting to reach his destination.

Marga no era una chica regular. Realmente nunca lo había sido y eso en vez de preocuparle, le agradaba que la vieran de esa manera. Eso le había ahorrado unos cuantos malos ratos tanto en casa como en los sitios que frecuentaba.

Nunca se le había conocido pareja, por lo que entre los chismes del barrio, se decía que era "desviada", sin embargo, nada más lejos de la realidad que solo conocía ella.

Tendía a ser alguien solitario, y el trabajo comunitario era algo que disfrutaba honestamente. De hecho, al terminar el secundario, su primera opción universitaria fue estudiar para ser trabajadora social.

Se las ingeniaba para lograr en las personas un cambio de actitud, que muchos ni con tratamiento psicológico eran capaces. Había un don que ella sabía que tenía y lo usaba sin miramientos cuando alguien se lo solicitaba, o intuía que era necesaria su intervención.

Las ancianas que siempre iban a misa, solían comentar que Marga debía ser religiosa, y entrar al convento a prepararse para "recibir al señor", comentario que le hacía demasiada gracia, porque no se veía vestida como la novicia rebelde.

Ella ya sabía lo que quería en su vida, y trabajaba en silencio para lograrlo.

A veces, mientras iba caminando por la calle, se le notaba que movía los labios, sobre todo cuando iba ensimismada y con la mirada perdida, y solo reaccionaba cuando alguien la llamaba por su nombre,cambiándole la expresión de su cara que automáticamente esbozaba una sonrisa.

Los vecinos frecuentes, que siempre se sentaban en las tardes al borde de la vereda llegaron a pensar que era un tic nervioso, pero igual era tan buena, que no le cuestionaban ese rasgo en particular.

Marga, en esos momentos de soledad que le daba desplazarse de un lado a otro, mascullaba entre dientes su plan. Observaba todo, detallaba cada esquina y rostro a su paso. Era un recorrido que hacía a diario desde su casa al centro comunitario en el que trabajaba. Nadie tendría sospechas.

Al ser persona de confianza dentro de la oficina, tenía acceso a todos los expedientes. Y había uno que revisando los casos asignados, le llamó la atención. Aunque no era suyo directamente, se relacionaba con el de Agustín, un chico de 8 años que había sido abusado por un familiar.

El niño fue retirado de su familia y vivía en una casa de abrigo que había servido por años en la recuperación de niños y jóvenes víctimas de abuso.

La familia González era casi que un aliado de la organización. La pareja, que ya había quedado con el nido vacío, no vacilaba en recibir a quienes por alguna razón habían quedado sin familia. Tenían una casa grande, con un patio trasero que hasta un parque y una pequeña piscina albergaban en él.

Los niños aparentaban sentirse a gusto al principio, ya luego se volvían retraídos y muy silenciosos. Todos pensaban que era producto del trauma con el que llegaban a manos del servicio social.

Pero Marga había descubierto algo en ese expediente que explicaba todo. Las piezas encajaban con tanta facilidad, que era insólito como no lo habían descubierto antes!

En sus conversaciones solitarias, Marga buscaba la manera de desenmascarar a quien, desde muchos años atrás, marcaba de la peor manera posible a quienes llegaban a su casa en busca de ayuda.

Lorena González, era una señora con aspecto frágil, sus 1.55 centimetros de estatura, y lo pálido de su tez la ayudaban a aparentarlo. Tenía una voz muy aguda, que parecía que cantara en vez de hablar.

Y esa voz era la que luego atormentaba por las noches a los niños de la casa.

Felipeeeee... gritaba desde el fondo de la cocina, y el niño tembloroso se acercaba con pasitos cortos, sin querer llegar a su destino. Felipeeeee.... termina de llegar!....

Fotografías por/Photografy by: Kristina Tripkovic, Phil Heraing, Mr Cupa-Fabien Barral,Jeffrey Riley (all from Unsplash) </div