A girl. A house. A needle ceiling. Victoria de la Calle grows up under a roof where tenderness is rationed and obedience is paid in bruises. A mother who governs through scorn, a father who chooses distance, sisters who learn that cruelty wins while kindness costs-this is the economy she must survive. The Needle Ceiling is a novel of witness-lyrical, unsparing, and unwilling to supply the tidy resolution readers are trained to expect. It indicts the household myth that "discipline saves," exposes the quiet rewards of complicity, and honors the small refusals that keep a child intact. You won't find heroes here. You will find a girl building a language for what was never named-right down to the book's "House Words" glossary. This is not recovery literature. It is a record of endurance and revolt. None of this happened. All of it is true.