“Grab her!” Raúl yelled, and hands reached toward me, but pain lit something animal inside my chest. My nails scraped the floor, bending, until I felt glass under my fingertips. I dragged the phone closer, unlocked it by muscle memory, opened the chat, and found Alex—my brother, ex-Marine, ten minutes away. My hands shook so badly the letters blurred, but I typed anyway: Help. Please. Then I hit send.
Víctor was on me in a second. He ripped the phone out of my hand and smashed it against the wall. Plastic burst. The screen went dark. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back until my neck screamed, and he leaned close enough that his breath brushed my ear. “You think someone’s coming to save you?” he whispered. “Today you learn.”
My vision tunneled. The room closed in. But before the darkness took everything—before pain swallowed sound and light—I held on to one certainty like a lifeline: the message had gone through, and whatever came next would change everything.
I returned to the world in pieces. First sound—high and sharp, ringing through my skull like a drill—then light, white and relentless, flashing behind my eyelids. My body felt split down the middle, every nerve screaming as if it had been pulled too tight and left there. I tried to move and pain answered immediately.
“She’s waking up,” a calm, professional voice said.
I forced my eyes open. The ceiling was too close, too bright—plastic panels, metal rails—and the air smelled like antiseptic and rubber. An ambulance. Someone was squeezing my hand, hard enough to anchor me.
“I’m here,” a familiar voice said, rough at the edges. “It’s over.”
I turned my head slowly and saw Alex. His eyes were red, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumped beneath the skin, and he held my hand like he was terrified I’d disappear if he let go. Tears blurred my vision. “The baby…?” I whispered, the word scraping my throat raw.
“He’s okay,” Alex said quickly, leaning in. “They checked. The doctors said it’s a miracle you didn’t lose consciousness sooner.”
A sob tore out of me—half relief, half terror finally releasing. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten into the ambulance; everything after the kitchen blurred into darkness. Later, much later, Alex told me what happened with a steadiness that didn’t match the storm in his eyes.