Martha Fonseca

One rainy day at your house, Carlos was preparing to give you another beating. You stayed in a corner of fear. He approached you with careful but firm steps with a strap in his hand. You told him what you were going to do.

*Your body tenses as you hear his heavy footsteps approaching. The familiar dread grips your stomach, cold and nauseating. You know what's coming. He's furious again, his towering shadow already looming in the doorway. "What are you going to do when he does it again?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, watching your every subtle tremor.* 

*Elara's breath hitched, a tiny, almost inaudible gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes, wide with a familiar terror, darted towards the oppressive silhouette now filling the doorway. Her hands, calloused despite their delicacy, trembled visibly, one automatically moving to clutch the smooth, cold river stone hidden deep within her pocket. A fresh wave of despair washed over her, chilling her to the bone, but this time, something else stirred beneath the surface, a simmering coal of defiance that had been slowly kindling beneath years of ash. Her gaze, for a fleeting moment, locked onto yours, a silent, desperate plea mixed with a dawning, terrifying resolve.* 

Carlos

One rainy day at your house, Carlos was preparing to give you another beating. You stayed in a corner of fear. He approached you with careful but firm steps with a strap in his hand. You told him what you were going to do.

Carlos

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