CHAPTER 100

CHAPTER 100
POV ISABELA

I couldn’t breathe.

It was like the air had been ripped from my lungs.

Like something invisible was crushing my chest, squeezing my heart, stopping any attempt to regain control.

Her words…

They were still there.

Spinning.

Echoing.

Repeating endlessly inside my head.

“I hate you.”

“I’m ashamed to be your daughter.”

“You’re a slut.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could make everything disappear.

But it didn’t help.

The words were still there.

Louder.

Stronger.

Crueler.

My legs were shaking so badly I could barely walk to the car. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if my own body was fighting me, refusing to move forward.

As if it knew…

That from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same.

My hands trembled as I reached for the handle.

It took me a few seconds to open the door.

I got into the car and shut it.

And then…

I broke down.

The sobs came uncontrollably.

Loud.

Painful.

Tearing through my throat as they escaped one after another, without pause, without relief.

I brought my hands to my face, trying to hold myself together, trying to stop it…

But it was impossible.

My whole body shook.

My chest hurt so much it felt physical.

Like I had been hit.

Like it was broken.

“God…” My voice came out weak, almost inaudible.

Tears streamed endlessly, hot and heavy, soaking my hands, my lap, and my clothes.

I never…

I never imagined I would hear those words.

From my daughter.

From my Isis.

My girl.

My little one.

The same one who used to run into my arms when she was scared.

The same one who fell asleep holding onto me during stormy nights.

The same one who said I was the best mother in the world.

The same one who wanted to be just like me.

Now…

She was ashamed of me.

She hated me.

A stronger sob tore through me as I squeezed my eyes shut.

How had it come to this?

When did I lose everything?

I wiped my face, trying to clear the tears, but it was useless.

They wouldn’t stop.

They never stopped.

I took a deep breath.

Or tried to.

But the air wouldn’t come in properly.

It was short.

Uneven.

Broken.

My chest rose and fell too fast.

Out of control.

I looked ahead.

At the windshield.

Everything felt… distant.

Like I wasn’t really there.

Like I was watching my own life from the outside.

I grabbed the key with difficulty.

My hands were still shaking.

I turned it.

The car started.

The sound of the engine, usually familiar… now felt strange.

Empty.

Meaningless.

I didn’t know where to go.

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know how to fix this.

I only knew one thing.

I had to get out of there.

I pulled the car out of the parking lot.

Without thinking.

Without planning.

Without a destination.

The road stretched ahead of me, but I barely noticed it.

The cars.

The people.

The traffic lights.

Nothing felt real.

My mind was far away.

Very far away.

Trapped.

Drowning.

In her words.

Always them.

Always coming back.

Always hurting.

“I didn’t mean to…” I murmured to myself, my voice broken.

But there was no one there to hear me.

No one to answer.

No one to tell me everything would be okay.

Because it wouldn’t.

I knew that.

I wiped my face again.

But the tears kept falling.

Hot.

Uncontrollable.

My phone started vibrating on the passenger seat.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Nonstop.

The sound filled the car.

Insistent.

Urgent.

But I didn’t look.

I didn’t want to.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t have the strength to talk to anyone.

To explain.

To hear more judgment.

More pain.

More accusations.

I just kept driving.

My mind drifted again.

Noah.

My chest tightened.

He was still on the field.

Playing.

Shining.

Without knowing anything.

Without imagining the chaos unfolding.

Had he seen it already?

Had someone told him?

Did he know?

The thought made my stomach twist.

I shook my head, trying to push it away.

But another wave of pain hit.

Stronger.

More intense.

Everything was falling apart.

My family.

My daughter.

My life.

Everything.

I wanted to disappear.

To vanish.

To erase it all.

As if none of this had ever happened.

As if I could go back in time.

My breathing started to fail.

Faster.

Shorter.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.

My knuckles turned white.

The road began to blur.

Or maybe it was my tears.

I didn’t know anymore.

The words came back.

Once again.

Again.

“I hate you.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I’m ashamed to be your daughter.”

My vision blurred even more.

“You destroyed our family.”

“No…” I whispered, my voice faint.

But it was too late.

Too late.

I didn’t see the car ahead slow down.

I didn’t see it break.

I didn’t see the light.

I didn’t see anything.

I only felt it.

The impact.

The sound was deafening.

Metal against metal.

A violent crash that seemed to tear through my body.

I was thrown forward.

The seatbelt locked against my chest.

My head hit something.

Everything became confused.

Disordered.

Distant.

The world seemed to spin.

And stop at the same time.

A ringing filled my ears.

Loud.

Constant.

My breathing faltered.

My body went heavy.

No strength.

No reaction.

My vision began to darken.

The edges are turning black.

Closing in slowly.

And in the middle of it all…

Only one image remained clear.

My daughter’s face.

Crying.

Angry.

In pain.

And her voice.

One last time.

“I hate you.”

A tear slid down the corner of my eye.

And then…

Everything went dark.