In 1991, four high school students, classmates from the same course, shocked their community when each of them was found to be pregnant for a short period of time. Before anyone could hear it, the four of them suddenly disappeared. Families were shattered, the town was full of murmurs, and police investigations led nowhere.
The once-vibrant high school had fallen into an uneasy silence, its hallways shrouded in mystery. But three decades later, a largely ignored janitor has discovered something unusual…… In 1991, the public high school of Alto del Prado, located on the outskirts of Santander, was a school like any other: a gray building, tired teachers and teenagers dreaming of leaving soon. No one seems to suggest that path will forever be in people’s memory. It wasn’t until within a few weeks, four girls from the same class—Nerea Salvatierra, Clara Busto, Marisa Ceballos, and Julia Arjona, all 16 years old—were discovered to be pregnant.
The news spread like wildfire. Families reacted with disbelief and embarrassment, while teachers refrained from commenting. The rumors were innumerable: that it was a pact between them, that it was the same father, that it was a joke that could get out of control. But nothing was as contentious as what happened next. One morning in April, Nerea didn’t make it to school. He didn’t go home either. Two days later, Clara disappeared. And then there was Marisa. Finally, Julia. One by one, there were no goodbyes, no notes, no signs of struggle. Just… vanished.
The Civil Guard investigates closely: interviews, searches of nearby forests, roadblocks, interrogations of the bride, teachers, even the parents themselves. There is no clue. The regional press was hit with sensationalist headlines, until the case was shelved for lack of progress. The institute lost students, the hallways were quiet and the town was plunged into a mixture of guilt and fear. Over the years, the memory of the four girls has become almost taboo.
Thirty years later, in 2021, the institute is still standing, albeit slightly altered. The oldest janitor, Eusebio Santín, is one of the few who has worked there since the 1990s. He was reserved, meticulous and had a surprisingly clear memory. One morning in October, while inspecting a storage shed that was about to be demolished, he discovered that an old vent was loose. When he removed it, he found a hole in the back of the wall: narrow, deep, and covered in dust. Inside is a wet folder, wrapped in school plastic from the 1990s.
He brought it to the light and when he turned it on, he didn’t move. There are pictures of four girls, some inside the institute itself, others in an unknown location; drawings of plans; schedule notes; list of names; and, at the end of it all, a letter dated March 1991. The handwriting was shaky. Author: Julia Arjona.
Eusebio, with cold hands and a quickened pulse, understood that this could not be ignored. He had been keeping a secret for a long time, probably without his knowledge. And now, for the first time in three decades, someone has moved.
“I’ve got to teach this to somebody,” he muttered.
I would like to read the letter first.
And what he found inside would forever change the official version of history………
Eusebio swallowed heavily as he held the note between his fingers. Even though it’s been a few years, the ink is still legible. Before he opened it completely, he made sure to close the storage room door. Something inside him was telling him that this discovery was something no one should see.
He took a deep breath and began to read.
“If you find it, it means we didn’t manage to go the way we wanted. I don’t know if I’m still with Nerea, Clara and Marisa or if, when someone reads these words, we’re going to be gone forever. I had to record what happened, because no one would believe us. No one ever will.”
Eusebius felt a chill running down his spine.
“It all started with him. The New Teacher. The successor to Philosophy, which came in January. At first he seemed harmless, even kind. He spoke of freedom, of breaking barriers, of questioning everything. But we didn’t know that while he was talking to us about thinking for ourselves, he was already starting to think for us.”
Eusebius’s hands were cold. He recalled a replacement who was there that year. A young man, with round glasses, dark hair, piercing eyes. It’s called…
Nope. He refused to be remembered. I don’t want to.
He continued to read.
“He told us to stay after school. He said we were special, we had a bright future, we could go a long way if we trusted him. And we, like stupid girls looking for someone to see them… We believe in Him.”
“At first, I was just talking. Then he started touching us. He told us that it was part of a “social experiment”, which we had chosen, that we were ‘freeing’ ourselves from family pressure. He manipulated us. It brought us down. And when we realized… It’s too late.”
“The four of us were stunned. He knew it. And I have a plan.”
Eusebius’s heart was pounding.
“He said the families didn’t understand. That if pregnancies were discovered they would separate us, put us in the hospital, force us … You know. He convinced us that we should go into hiding. He said he had prepared a place. That it is for our good.”
“But we don’t trust him anymore. We saw the monster behind his mask. Even before he was gone… We wanted to leave something behind. It is a sign. It’s a test. This is the folder. If anyone can find it… Please… Don’t let it all end here.”
“I don’t know what he’s going to do with us right now. I’m scared. It’s very scary.”
“If we don’t come back… Look for us.”
—Julia Arjona
Marso 1991
Eusebius put down the letter. Her breathing was a whirlwind.
Her hands were shaking.
The “substitute teacher”. Of course I remembered!
His name was Tomás Cifuentes.
She was abruptly fired a month before the pregnancy was discovered, following a violent argument with the director at the time. But the official reason was “professional incompatibility”.
Now it’s all falling apart.
But the most important thing is missing:
What Happened to the Girls?
Wasting no more time, Eusebio put the folder under his jacket and walked out of the storage room. Every step he took in the hallways felt like betrayal. For thirty years, he had been wandering those hallways without realizing that such dark secrets were breathing within their walls.
He had to decide what to do:
Going to the Police?
Talking to the new director?
Or do you want to start researching yourself?
He chose the latter.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that some truths, when delivered unprepared, are ignored. I need more evidence. Something solid. Something that no one can refuse.
And there’s one place where I thought I’d start:
The Old Archives of the Institute.
The archive is in the basement, behind a metal door that is almost never opened. Eusebius had the key; After all, he was the oldest janitor.
He turned on the lights and began looking for the 1991 files.
After two hours of sifting through dusty boxes, he found a filing cabinet labeled as:
“PERSONAL – CONFIDENTIAL – 1990-1992”
Inside he found something he hadn’t expected:
the complete file of Tomás Cifuentes.
Flipping through it, she uncovered reports of behavior, complaints from female students, even a handwritten note from the former principal:
“Inappropriate behavior. It is a danger to the students. Move or leave.”
But the most disturbing is an envelope stapled to the file, with a note:
“Material delivered by Julia Arjona, March 1991.”
Eusebius felt his heart beating in his ribs.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a rusty key and a folded piece of paper.
The paper reads:
“It’s an old gym. That’s where it all started.”
At six o’clock in the evening, when the institute was almost empty, Eusebio went to the old gymnasium, which had been closed for the year.
The front door is sealed, but the warehouse has an unused external access.
He tried the key.
Naka-embed.
The door opened with a long, cold growl.
A damp, old wood smell came from him. With a flashlight, Eusebio stepped forward.
The warehouse looked normal: balls, mats, broken boxes…
Until he sees something strange:
a trapdoor on the floor, hidden under an old plank.
He picked it up.
A narrow tunnel descends between the stone walls.
The air was cold, heavy.
Eusebio felt that he was descending into a truth that no one wanted to discover.
He turned on the flashlight and went downstairs.
The tunnel led to a small room, made of damp brick. In the middle was a metal table, rusty. And all around… things that made Eusebius’ stomach spin.
Children’s Clothes.
Hair bands.
Notebooks with names written on them.
Polaroid photos of four girls.
Everything was there, intact, as if time had stopped.
At the back, there is a second door.
When he opened it, Eusebius saw something that gave him pause:
There are 4 small beds.
Four.
In one corner, on a shelf, were bottles with medical labels, syringes, and a notebook full of notes.
They look like clinical records.
The Names:
Nerea
Egg whites
Marisa
Julia
The last record is dated May 1991.
All of a sudden, all the points came to an end.
It was as if everything had suddenly been abandoned.
Paralyzed if Eusebio.
A sound behind him caused him to spin violently.
There was someone in the tunnel.
A tall silhouette. Thin. in slow steps.
A voice I haven’t heard in thirty years.
“I didn’t think anyone would ever find anything like this again, Eusebius.
The janitor felt the flashlight almost go down.
This is Tomás Cifuentes.
Life. Changed… But it’s life.
Thomas approached him.
“I’ve been watching,” he said with a crooked smile. I know that sooner or later, someone will come along. But I didn’t think it was you.
Umatras is Eusebius.
“What did you do to the girls?”
Thomas sighed, almost sad.
“I saved them,” he replied. Of the World. From YOU. From their relatives who don’t understand them.
“Buntis sila!”
“Because that’s what they chose him,” Thomas said coldly. That was our project. Our little experiment with creating a community that is free of judgment. But… It didn’t work. They’re not ready yet. They panicked. They wanted to leave. I’m not going to tolerate it.
“What did you do to them?” Eusebius insisted in a thin voice.
Thomas stopped. Her smile was gone.
“They’re gone,” he said at last. One night, while he was sleeping. They took food. Clothes. And they didn’t come back.
I searched everywhere. I haven’t found the bodies yet.
“Mga katawan?”
“I’ve said what I said,” Thomas replied. If they had died… I don’t know. If anyone can help them… Not either.
But this place… That was all they had left.
Eusebius was stunned.
The monster hasn’t killed them yet…
But he didn’t do anything to find them either.
He let them flee, pregnant, scared, lost in the middle of the forest.
“And the children?” asked Eusebius.
Thomas looked at him.
“They’ve lost that as well.
Before Eusebio could answer, voices were heard upstairs.
Lanterns. Steps.
Ang pulisya.
The new director sees Eusebio entering a closed area and, alarmed, calls the authorities.
Tomás tried to escape through the tunnel, but was arrested.
Eusebius, tired, handed over the folder, the letter, everything.
The investigation has been formally opened.
For weeks, they dug into a nearby forest, pored through hospital files, and reviewed old complaints.
Then, the unexpected happened.
An officer searched a rural hospital found a woman who gave birth in May 1991, along with three other young women. All four of them are using the wrong names. The four of them were born that night. After that… They left.
But the most surprising thing is what happened next:
A missing women’s NGO shared a recent photo of a rural community on the Portuguese border.
Among the women depicted are four unmistakable faces.
More mature. Changed. But it’s life.
Nerea.
Clara.
Marisa.
Julia.
All four.
Vivas.
They raised their children together, far from everything, far from everything.
And they don’t want to go back.
When police arrived at the scene, the four women agreed to speak but refused to return to the village.
They confirmed everything: how they
escaped, how they survived
, how they raised their children in secret
,
how guilt and fear kept them hidden.
Tomás was convicted of corruption with minors, illegal retention and abuse of authority.
Eusebio was identified as the man who uncovered the case.
And people, after thirty years, have finally been able to close an open wound.
The institute put up a plaque:
“In the memory of the four girls who one day disappeared…
and the brave ones who did not cease to seek them.”
Eusebio visited the plaque on the day of the inauguration.
And for the first time in decades, he felt the building breathe again.
The corridors are free.
That silence, finally… That is Peace.