Chapter 2 (Continued)
Chapter 2 (Continued)
The roar of the minibus engine sounded like a sick animal struggling uphill through the steep streets of the neighborhood.
I sat pressed against the window, my forehead resting on the vibrating glass as every pothole sent another jolt through my aching body. It felt as though death itself had settled inside my womb.
The public clinic smelled of cheap disinfectant, stale fear, and the crushing indifference that only overcrowded hospitals seemed to possess.
The young emergency physician barely looked me in the eye before delivering the diagnosis.
"You've suffered a severe threatened miscarriage, Elena," he said while scribbling endlessly into my medical file. "The blow caused a significant hematoma. But the baby is still alive."
He finally looked up.
"You were lucky. Very lucky."
Lucky.
"If the bleeding doesn't stop within the next twenty-four hours, you'll lose the baby. Complete bed rest. No physical effort. No stress. Do you understand?"
I nodded silently, swallowing the tears burning my throat.
Lucky.
That was the word he used for surviving by a miracle.
Lucky meant sitting alone on a cracked plastic chair with my underwear sealed inside a plastic bag because it was soaked with my own blood.
When I stepped outside the clinic, the late afternoon breeze struck my face.
I had ten pesos left in my pocket.
Just enough for the bus ride back.
I had nowhere else to go.
My mother had died five years earlier.
My father had disowned me the day I chose Arturo over him.
The only option—the most humiliating and dangerous one—was to return to that house.
I had to collect my documents.
The baby clothes I'd begun storing inside an old egg carton.
And most importantly...
I had to save El Jefe.
I wasn't going to let Mauricio finish killing him.
When I got off the bus, my legs felt like blocks of lead.
Every step reminded me how fragile the little life inside me had become.
The cracked sidewalks stretched beneath a web of dangling electrical wires as I slowly approached the house.
Then I saw Arturo's car.
The hood was open.
He stood beside it with a greasy rag in one hand, chatting casually with the neighbor from the auto parts shop.
As if nothing had happened.
As if his wife hadn't staggered away bleeding only hours earlier.
My stomach twisted.
I stopped several yards away, clenching my fists and forcing myself to breathe through the pain.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Arturo slammed the hood shut with a metallic bang that made me flinch.
"I told you my mother doesn't want to see you again. What's so hard to understand, Elena?"
"I came for my things."
I met his eyes without blinking.
"And I came for the dog."
"I'm not leaving without him."
Arturo laughed.
That same mocking laugh he always used whenever he wanted to make me feel small.
Worthless.
Like some stray he had picked up off the street.
"The dog?"
He wiped his greasy hands on his jeans before stepping closer.
"Come on, Elena."
"That mutt's probably dead already."
"Mauricio loaded him into the truck about an hour ago."
"Said he'd dump him somewhere near the Chimalhuacán landfill."
"He couldn't even stand anymore."
"So stop being dramatic and get out of here before my brother comes back."
Everything inside me froze.
My ears rang.
El Jefe...
The only living soul who had risked his life to save mine...
Now abandoned somewhere like garbage.
Dying alone because he had protected me.
"You let him?"
My voice barely came out.
"He lived with your family for ten years."
"He protected you from thieves when you were younger."
"And after he saved me..."
"You let your brother throw him away?"
"Enough!"
Arturo cut me off, waving his hand inches from my face.
"I'm not listening to this."
"Mauricio is my brother."
"My blood."
"The dog attacked him."
"What were we supposed to do?"
"A dog is just a dog."
"And this whole mess happened because you couldn't keep your mouth shut around my mother."
"If you'd kept your legs closed when you should have..."
"And your mouth shut when it mattered..."
"We wouldn't be dealing with any of this."
Those words hurt more than the punch.
Far more.
I looked at the man I'd washed clothes for.
Cooked for.
Defended.
Excused.
And all I saw was an empty shell.
A coward hiding forever beneath his mother's skirt...
And beneath his older brother's shadow.
"The baby is alive, Arturo."
I spoke quietly.
"The doctor said your brother almost killed your son."
"You know what you did?"
"Nothing."
"You stayed in your chair..."
"Drinking your beer."
"You're a coward."
Arturo's face turned white.
Then bright red.
Not because of guilt.
Because he realized the mechanic from next door had heard every word.
Public humiliation.
That was the only thing capable of moving a man like him.
"Shut up..."
He grabbed my wrist so hard I cried out.
His fingers dug into my skin.
"Come inside."
"Stop making a scene."
"I'm not going back into that house!"
I struggled against him.
"Let me go!"
At that exact moment...
An engine roared around the corner.
Mauricio's battered old Ford pickup appeared through a cloud of black exhaust.
He slammed on the brakes beside the sidewalk.
The tires screeched.
He climbed out holding half a bottle of tequila.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His words slurred.
May you like
Yet somehow...
His arrogance remained perfectly clear.
