Clara felt enveloped by the cold hospital room. She looked at her daughter’s pale, pained face and tried to hide her sorrow. The doctor seemed calm, but her eyes betrayed a worry impossible to conceal.
“Oh, darling, please… tell us exactly what happened Saturday night,” the doctor asked softly, leaning towards the girl.
The little doll. She bit her lip and tears began to roll down her cheeks.
—It hurt a lot… and Martí told me not to tell Mom… that she would worry. He gave me some pills… very bitter. Afterwards… now I remember everything clearly.
Clara’s blood ran cold. Pills? Why on earth would Martí give the girl medication if he hadn’t told anyone?
The doctor reacted immediately:
“It’s important to know what kind of substances he ingested. I’ve already requested an amblyopia test, and we’ll do all the necessary tests at the hospital. It’s not just about digestion.”
Each moment seemed like an eternity. Finally, the ambulance arrived, and blue lights illuminated the victim’s veins. The paramedics transferred the patient to the stretcher and immediately began stabilization procedures.
Clara walked down the hospital corridor, almost bursting into tears. Her mind kept returning to the same question: How had she seen him before? How could she have left her daughter alone with Martí?
During the trip, the doctor told him:
—The symptoms and what we saw on the ultrasound suggest that Aa’s body has been exposed to something harmful. Her liver and stomach show damage. We will have exact confirmation after the laboratory tests.
In the waiting room, Clara felt for the first time a burning rage, mixed with unbearable guilt. Martí. The man to whom she had entrusted her life and her daughter’s. The man she had believed in. What was he really hiding?
Your phone vibrated. A message from Martí:
Is everything alright? I’m home now. Is everyone okay?
Clara clenched her fists. She didn’t respond. At that precise moment, the doctor came out of the emergency room.
— “Aa’s condition is stable, but we have serious suspicions. We must inform the authorities. It is very likely that he ingested toxic substances.”
The words “inform the authorities” struck Clara like a bolt of lightning. She realized that the nightmare was only just beginning.
She looked at her daughter’s pale face, visible through the glass of the room. And at that moment she made an irrevocable decision: she would no longer allow Martí to approach the girl.
And deep in my heart, I knew that the truth about that weekend would be much darker than I could ever have imagined.
The girl complained of severe abdominal pain last week to her stepfather, and the doctor, upon seeing the ultrasound, immediately called an ambulance…
That morning should have started like any other. Clara, the mother of an eight-year-old girl named Aa, was preparing breakfast before taking her to school. But there was something deeply disturbing.
Aa was pale, sitting at the table with her hand on her stomach.
“Mom… it still hurts,” she whispered weakly.
Clara felt her chest. “Did it hurt yesterday too?” She nodded, her eyes wide and bitter.
—It started Saturday night… very badly. I told Martí (Clara’s husband, Aa’s stepfather), but he said it was probably because of the pizza.
That weekend, Clara had to work, leaving her daughter in Martí’s care. Until then, she had always dismissed the girl’s complaints, convinced they were just passing annoyances. But this time, a chill ran through her veins.
Without wasting any time, he took her to the pediatrician who had been treating her since she was born.
After a thorough examination, the doctor decided to perform an ultrasound “just in case.” However, as soon as the images appeared on the screen, the serenity vanished from his face. He exchanged an alarmed glance with his assistant.
“Doctor, what’s wrong?” Clara asked, her voice trembling.
The doctor immediately picked up the phone and said very firmly,
“I need an amblyopia for an eight-year-old girl.”
Then she turned to Aa, stained and scarred on the stretcher. And at that moment, a terrifying question crossed Clara’s mind:
What had really happened that weekend with her stepfather?
