The Haunting of Alejandra

The Haunting of Alejandra is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Copyright © 2023 by Violet de NeefAll rights reserved.Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.DEL REY and the CIRCLE colophons are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataNames: Castro, V., author.Title: The haunting of Alejandra: a novel / by V. Castro.Description: First edition. | New York: Del Rey, [2023]Identifiers: LCCN 2022038895 | ISBN 9780593499696 (hardcover; acid-free paper) | ISBN 9780593499702 (ebk)Subjects: LCSH: Llorona (Legendary character)—Fiction. | LCGFT: Horror fiction. | Novels.Classification: LCC PS3603.A8885 H38 2023 | DDC 813/.6—dc23/eng/20220829LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022038895Ebook ISBN 9780593499702randomhousebooks.comBook design by Debbie Glasserman, adapted for ebookCover illustrations © 2023 Alex Eckman-LawnCover design by Regina Flathep_prh_6.0_143148854_c0_r0 ContentsCoverTitle PageCopyrightEpigraphAlejandra Philadelphia—2019Atzi Mexico—1522AlejandraCathy San Antonio, Texas—1978AlejandraAlejandra and MatthewFrances Texas—1961Alejandra and MelanieMelanieAlejandraCathyAlejandra and CathyCathy and AlejandraFlor Mexico—1900–1919Alejandra and CathyLa Llorona: The Woman 1616EpilogueDedicationBy V. CastroAbout the Author We must listen to the women who came before us. We change the future by unloading the sorrow of the past. We sever the cord of generational curses. Some cords are meant to shrivel to blackened dead flesh. They are our blood, but we are not them. We do not have to accept it. None of it.—FLOR CASTILLO, SOLDADERA AND MOTHER, 1919 Alejandra sat beneath the square showerhead in their newly refurbished bathroom. Her feet touched the glass, and her head leaned against the tiled wall. The bathroom was the only place in the house where she could lock the door.She felt numb as she imagined her mind and body crumbling, her every cell fragile as limestone. The image came to her of a skull, like the ones from centuries ago at the bottom of cenotes in Mexico. For the last four years, she had been that skull.The doorknob jiggled.“Mom, Mom, hurry up,” a small voice called for her over and over.Just five minutes. One minute.Please.One second alone to breathe?She looked toward the door. Her body trembled with the overwhelming desire to shrink to the size of the blood clots trailing down her legs.Her period arrived like clockwork every month—the only thing she could predict after her tubal ligation. No more children. Never again.She already had three children. Each birth had left an open wound where each of those pieces of flesh had been hacked off from her.Since then, Alejandra’s inner world had felt like the scary part of death: They say nothing exists after the brain short-circuits to darkness and the heart squeezes out its last bloody tears. And that was her. For years she abandoned herself to be a willing sacrifice to please everyone around her, and now nothing existed within her anymore. Even her own hand was not a hand at all, but a blade she used to carve her heart for anyone who asked her for it.Beyond the beaded veil of water on glass, a white form appeared in front of the towel rack.Alejandra didn’t have her glasses or contact lenses on. It was likely just steam. Or was it her towel? She could have sworn she’d hung it on the hook behind the door. She glanced in that direction. The towel was there. She turned back to the rack, her neck popping from the quick movement.The form lingered.What could have been a towel now appeared to be a torn dress. It looked almost like a white mantilla. Her poor vision moved in and out of focus.From the center of the silhouette rasped a voice so minute it might have come from her own mind.“You want to end it. Let me help you.”Alejandra whispered back with the sensation of hot water burning her throat, choking her: “No.”The steam billowed with the water. It reminded her of the day she’d tried on wedding dresses.A loud bang on the door made her head jerk and legs tense as they folded into her body. “Alejandra, it’s dinnertime. Are you coming down to cook? The kids are hungry.”Her eyes broke from the amorphous figure to the door then back again.The figure was gone.“Give me a minute,” she called out as best she could through her tearful confusion.“All right, but you’ve been in there over twenty minutes.”Matthew’s voice brought her back to the present, the reality she wanted to escape from. His voice had a childish whine. His footsteps down the stairs could be heard through the door. She was relieved he would not be lingering in the hallway to question her further. She rose from the floor to rinse the blood from her legs. Her duties waited, leaving her no time to wallow. Now all she could think about was her hope that the children would actually eat what she cooked. Or would it be another mealtime of watching them spit it out? Every time they did, a feeling of rejection burrowed into her like termites.Alejandra turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to dry herself quickly before they called to her again from outside her door. She couldn’t stand to hear any of them repeat her name. Her anger would flare up—aimed at herself for being weak. Sometimes her knees threatened to buckle when she thought of how she didn’t own a single thing in the world. She had no money of her own. No job. Her name was not even on any of the bills. Half her life lived as a shadow.As she ran the towel down her legs, she noticed a slimy substance on the glass door where the hallucination had appeared. It’s probably from the children, she told herself. Alejandra put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, then wrapped her hair in the towel.Before leaving the bathroom, she paused with her hand on the light switch. Something as deep inside her as the lining of her uterus told her what she