As the officers filed out, their glares burned into me, each step echoing with unspoken accusations. Left alone in the cold, sterile room, the pain in my abdomen intensified. My body shook uncontrollably, tears mingling with the sweat that dampened my face.
The world blurred, and in that haze, a vision of my mother appeared. Her face was streaked with tears, her voice choked with anger and despair as she argued with my father.
“I told you not to interfere!” she sobbed, her hands trembling. “Now look at us—ruined! Why did this happen? What did we do wrong?”
My father stood silent, his face lined with sorrow. His shoulders sagged under the weight of her words, his sighs heavy with regret.
The memory shifted, dissolving into the day of their funeral. I saw David’s face, pale but resolute, as he gripped my hand tightly. “Bianca,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “From now on, it’s just the two of us. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.”
Anne’s warmth enveloped me next. Her arms wrapped around me in a gentle embrace, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re my sister now,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “My home is your home. My parents are your parents.”
***