MIREYA’S POV
I didn’t remember the exact moment everything went wrong.
For a long time, all I had were disjointed fragments—sensations that didn’t quite connect, like scattered story pieces I was left to collect and piece together myself.
The smell of sun-warmed dust.
Laughter—mine, I think.
My sister’s voice, calling after me with annoyance and fondness intertwined: “Don’t go too far.”
I had gone anyway.
It was supposed to be a short trip. A simple errand just beyond the boundary of familiar territory, the kind that didn’t require a second thought.
I remembered the sky being clear that day, the kind of blue that made everything feel endless, open, safe.
I remembered thinking I’d be back before sunset.
The next memory came like a rupture.
Rough hands.
Too many.
The world tilted as something slammed into the back of my head. The sound hadn’t even registered properly before the ground was gone beneath me, and darkness followed.
When I woke, it was to pain.
