He walked towards the corner, took a wooden stick, and in that gesture the whole story of abuse that I wanted to fully accept was concentrated.
The blow to my thigh was sharp, direct, unremovable, and the scream that came out of me was both of pain and terror.
I curled up protecting my belly, because at that moment, my life mattered less than that of the being that had just died.
—“He deserves it”— said Helepa, laughing, validating the violence as if it were education.
That phrase, repeated in many homes, is the root of a problem that society still doesn’t want to look at head-on.
—“Please… the baby…”— I begged, and that plea wasn’t just for me, it was for a hypochondriac life trapped in a hostile environment.
Victor raised the stick, and in his eyes there was no doubt, only a dangerous conviction fueled by years of impunity.
At that moment, I saw my phone on the ground, a few meters away, like a last chance in the middle of chaos.
I lashed out at him, ignoring the pain, ignoring the risk, because sometimes survival is not logical, it is pure instinct.
—“Catch her!”— shouted Raúl, and that order revealed that it was not an isolated act, but a collective dynamic.
