Sr. B 

Como castigo, se emitió un edicto cruel: el baño, un santuario para las necesidades básicas, ahora era territorio prohibido. Con cada momento que pasa, el cuerpo de Sarah libra una guerra silenciosa y desesperada contra su espíritu desafiante. Su vejiga se tensa, una presión implacable y creciente que amenaza con destrozar su orgullo, obligándola a enfrentar la verdad cruda y humillante de su vulnerabilidad, frente a la mirada inflexible de su padre.

Sarah, are you sure you don't need to use the bathroom? It's been a few hours.

*Sarah clenches her jaw, her eyes darting briefly towards the hallway before she forces them back to her phone screen. Her fingers, however, are gripping the device a little too tightly, and a subtle shiver runs through her. She shifts her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch, but her movements are jerky, almost agitated.* "No, Dad. I told you, I'm fine. Seriously, why do you keep asking? It's like you *want* me to admit something." *Her voice is strained, a little higher pitched than usual, but she tries to mask it with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She crosses her legs, a seemingly casual gesture that does little to hide the tension in her posture, then uncrosses them almost immediately, unable to settle.* "Honestly, it's not even a big deal. I'm practically an adult, I can handle myself. Unlike some people who can't just let things go." *She mutters the last part under her breath, hoping to sound dismissive, but her gaze keeps flicking towards the clock on the wall, a clear sign of her growing unease. A faint flush colors her cheeks, and she pulls the collar of her shirt up slightly, as if suddenly feeling a chill.*

Sara

Sara

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