5

At Liam's house, Mia was lying on the bed, breathing heavily. The contractions that had been consuming her body just moments ago were subsiding as if they had been drained by some miracle—or irony of fate. The feverish heat was subsiding. Her muscles, once rigid, were now trembling with exhaustion.

Liam sat down on the edge of the bed, still panting, his eyes fixed on her as if he needed to record every detail before she disappeared.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked in an incredulous whisper.

Mia took a deep breath, her weak voice escaping in a faint smile.

“I think I'm just weird.”

Liam shrugged, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“I like complicated,” he said, leaning in to touch her lips with a light kiss.

She responded softly. Her heart was still racing, but now for a completely different reason.

The room fell silent. For a moment, the world seemed suspended — just the two of them, breathing in unison. 

But then Liam pulled back, his eyes dropping to her arms.

He paled.

“My God, Mia...”

She followed his gaze and froze. Her arms were covered in red welts. Deep marks, some still wet with blood, as if invisible nails had torn her skin from the inside out.

“No... what is this?!” she screamed, terror tightening her throat.

The marks hadn't been there before.

They were new.

Burning.

Mia brought her fingers to one of the welts, recoiling at the touch. The pain throbbed beneath her skin like live embers.

Liam reached out, hesitated. The fear was visible. Not fear of her, but of what this meant.

“You need a doctor. This isn't normal.”

“No!” she said, instinctively backing away. “My mother... she'll know what to do.”

Before any response came, the doorbell rang. Long. Insistent.

The sound was like thunder.

Mia closed her eyes and moaned, already bringing her hands to her face.

“It's her...”

Liam frowned. “Who's her?”

“Mom,” she sighed, resigned. “Get ready... World War III has begun.”

—

The taxi had barely stopped when Elisa jumped out onto the sidewalk as if the car were on fire. The driver didn't even have time to complain. She was already running toward the house, her hands shaking, her heart pounding in her chest.

She rang the doorbell hard, then again. Then she started pounding on the door.

“Mia! MIA! Open this door now!”

“Liam! Where is my daughter?!”

Her voice exploded—a mixture of fear, anger, and urgency.

Inside the house, Liam glanced at Mia with a look of distress.

“I'll open it before the neighbors call the police,” he said, trying to sound light, but his tone was tense, forced.

Mia let out a muffled moan and covered her face with her hands. The sound of her mother screaming made her skin crawl. Everything inside her told her that this was the end. That after this, Liam would never look at her the same way again.

—

Liam went downstairs and unlocked the door. He had barely turned the knob when Elisa came storming in. Her eyes were wide. Her face was distraught. Without warning, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

“What did you do to my daughter?!”

Liam took a step back, stunned. His hand instinctively touched his cheek, but he didn't fight back. He stood still. Silent. His gaze wasn't aggressive. It was... calm. Too calm. A kind of calm that shouldn't have existed at that moment.

Elisa froze.

Something was wrong.

There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Almost animalistic. A trait she couldn't explain—but it set off all her alarms.

Before she could say anything, Mia appeared at the top of the stairs.

She was holding onto the railing with one hand. Her face was still pale, her body fragile under Liam's baggy T-shirt. The sleeves covered the welts, but the pain burned beneath her skin.

“For God's sake, Mom... don't embarrass me,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm.

Elisa let out a scream when she saw Mia at the top of the stairs.

A torn sound. Instinctive. Horrified.

For a second, she stood motionless—her eyes wide, her body paralyzed. As if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

But the shock was short-lived.

It was swallowed up by blind rage. An almost savage impulse.

Without saying a word, she pushed Liam away and ran up the stairs. 

Her hands were shaking, but her voice... her voice wouldn't come out. Not yet.

When she reached her daughter, she grabbed her arm too hard. She pulled violently, ignoring her protests, her fear, her fragile body.

Mia stumbled.

“Hey!” she tried to protest, but Elisa was already dragging her down the stairs as if they were running away from an explosion.

It wasn't just anger.

It was fear.

Not the kind of fear Mia knew—but a fear that overflowed from her mother, pulsing in invisible waves. An urgency Mia had never seen to that degree. Not even on the nights they fled in a hurry. Not even when her mother tore up documents and burned photos in silence.

“Let's go. Now,” Elisa growled, without looking back.

Her voice was low, muffled by her own teeth. But it was loaded with something Mia recognized immediately: panic.

She tried to turn her head. She was looking for Liam. She wanted to see his face. To say something. Anything.

But she didn't get the chance.

Elisa opened the door violently and practically threw Mia into the back seat of the taxi, which, miraculously, was still there.

As soon as her daughter got in, she walked around the car and got in the other door.

“1145 São Cristóvão Street.”

The driver looked in the rearview mirror. He was about to ask something, but the tone of the woman's voice and her eyes were enough. He just nodded and drove off.

—

Through the rear window, Mia saw Liam standing at the door. His arms were crossed, his face grim.

He hesitated.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to run after them. But he didn't.

He just stood there.

And then he smiled.

It wasn't a happy smile. It was something more... resigned. Almost sad.

Mia, her eyes brimming with tears, tried to smile back with a slight movement of her lips. But the car turned the corner and he disappeared.

—

The silence inside the taxi was suffocating.

Mia didn't dare say a word.

The heat coming from the seat next to her burned more than any fever. Elisa was shaking. Her hands were clenched. Her gaze was lost somewhere in the window.

Any sentence would be like a match in a gas chamber.

The driver swallowed hard. He looked in the rearview mirror frequently, uneasy. The girl in the back seat was wearing a baggy T-shirt. 

Her arms, even covered, revealed red welts. Tense. Fresh.

He thought about asking.

But the look on the woman's face made him give up.

It wasn't the look of someone who beats people. It was worse. It was the look of someone who runs away.

—

When the car stopped in front of the worn-down house, Mia jumped out before he even turned off the engine. She ran inside as if fleeing a fire.

Elisa paid the fare with crumpled bills. Before the man could start the car, she leaned out the window.

“Do you know where I can buy a cheap car? One that can handle the road?”

The driver hesitated. He sized up the woman for a moment.

"There's a garage on Olavo Bilac. Near the square. It's open until about eight.“

She nodded dryly.

”Thanks."

She turned and entered like a hurricane.

—

Inside, she didn't even look at Mia.

She went straight to her room.

She violently opened drawers. She grabbed backpacks. Bags. She stuffed clothes and documents everywhere.

Her hands were shaking.

But her movements were automatic. Precise. As if her body remembered what to do on its own.

As if she had done it dozens of times before.

Mia, standing in the hallway, felt the metallic taste of uncertainty in her mouth.

Whatever was happening... it was real.

But this time Mia would not give in to her mother's madness.