Ana screamed, her voice cracking, tearing out of her chest over and over as if sheer volume could stop what was happening. Emilia’s small body jerked violently. One second she was standing near the sectional sofa. The next, her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, curling in on herself. Her arms thrashed uncontrollably. Her head whipped to the side. A strangled, high-pitched, desperate sound escaped her mouth—wrong, too sharp, too terrified.
Ana’s heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn’t breathe properly. Every inhale came too fast, too shallow, scraping her chest raw. Her vision blurred at the edges as panic flooded her—hot, overwhelming.
“No, no, no, please—” Ana sobbed, words tumbling over each other. “Please, please, please…”
She ran. She didn’t hear the adults shouting. She didn’t see the private security stiffen and step back. She didn’t think about rules, boundaries, or what was “allowed” in this house. Her sneakers barely touched the polished travertine floor as she flew across the enormous great room, still screaming Emilia’s name like a prayer she was terrified wouldn’t be answered.