FACES REALITY

Alonso stayed on the cold ground longer than he should have. His ribs screamed in protest with every shallow breath, and his legs trembled when he finally forced himself to stand.

Blood trickled from his split lip, and a dull throb spread across his ribs where Javi's fists had landed the hardest.

He wanted to stay down. Wanted to close his eyes and pretend none of it had happened. But if he didn't move, someone else might find him—and he couldn't let his mother see him like this.

Not again.

With shaky steps, Alonso stumbled out of the industrial park. The world felt colder now, the last slivers of daylight fading as the streetlights flickered to life.

He kept to the edges of the street, head down, hoping no one would notice him.

By the time he reached his apartment building, the knot in his stomach had grown heavy and sour.

His fingers trembled as he pushed open the rusted door and crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the loose step that creaked.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of fried onions and garlic.

The sound of the television buzzed softly from the living room. For a moment, Alonso let himself believe everything would be fine.

"Alonso?" His mother's voice cut through the quiet as he tried to sneak past. He froze.

She stood in the narrow hallway, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, her face creased with worry. The sight of her made something in his chest ache worse than the bruises.

"What happened to your face?" she asked, stepping closer. "Who did this?"

Alonso swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat. "It's nothing, Mamá. I just—I fell."

Her expression tightened as she reached out, brushing her fingers against the bruise forming on his cheek. He winced, and she let out a soft curse under her breath.

"Fell?" she repeated. "Don't lie to me."

His shoulders slumped. He couldn't meet her eyes. "It was Javi. Him and his friends."

Her face darkened. "Again? This has to stop."

"Please, Mamá," he whispered. "If you go to the school, it'll just get worse."

For a long moment, she didn't speak. The tension hung heavy between them before she sighed and pulled him gently toward the kitchen. "Sit," she ordered softly. "I'll get the first aid kit."

He obeyed, sinking into the worn chair while she rummaged through the cabinet. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead as she returned with a small plastic box and a bowl of warm water.

Her hands were gentle as she dabbed at the cut on his lip, cleaning the blood away. Each touch stung, but Alonso didn't flinch. He couldn't. Not when she was already trying so hard to hold herself together.

"You shouldn't have to go through this," she said quietly. "You're a good boy. You don't deserve it."

Alonso bit the inside of his cheek to keep his voice steady. "I'll be fine. It's not the first time."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She finished bandaging a scrape on his elbow and stood abruptly. "Eat," she said, placing a warm plate of rice and beans in front of him. "You need to keep your strength up."

He picked at the food while she hovered nearby, watching him with tired eyes. The pain dulled slightly with the warmth of the meal, but his ribs still ached with every breath.

When the dishes were cleared, and Lucía had already gone to bed, Alonso retreated to his room. The small space was familiar and safe, but tonight it felt different. The shadows seemed deeper. The silence, heavier.

He lay on his side, trying to ease the pressure on his ribs, but sleep refused to come. His thoughts churned, tangled with fear and anger. No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew the truth.

Javi wouldn't stop.

The next day would be worse. And the day after that.

Alonso pressed a hand to his ribs, trying to push down the ache.

It didn't help. The pain spread, deeper and sharper, until his vision swam and cold sweat broke out across his skin.

He tried to shift positions, but the movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his side.

Panic clawed at his throat as his breaths grew shallow and fast. Something was wrong—badly wrong.

His heart hammered as he forced himself to sit up.

The world tilted dangerously, the edges of his vision blurring. He staggered to his feet and stumbled into the hallway.

"Mamá," he called weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

His mother appeared almost instantly, her face pale as she took in his trembling frame. "Alonso?"

The room swayed beneath his feet. "I don't feel—"

Before he could finish, his knees buckled.

He never felt himself hit the floor.