“My husband beat me while I was pregnant and his parents laughed… but they didn’t know that a simple message would destroy everything.”

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.