CHAPTER 3 The Attack
CHAPTER 3
The Attack
Time seemed to stop inside that small hospital room.
The sound of the clipboard crashing onto the linoleum floor echoed through my ears like a gunshot.
Through the thick observation window, I saw the nurse.
She was a short woman in her early fifties, dressed in the hospital's navy-blue uniform.
Her dark eyes locked onto mine. Then they dropped to Elena's swollen belly, shifted to the heavy suitcase that had bounced across the floor, and finally settled on my mother, who still stood there with her hand raised, breathing hard with rage.
Only three or four seconds passed.
But the silence felt suffocating.
It was so heavy that I could barely breathe.
Then Elena screamed again.
This wasn't the cry of another contraction.
It was something far worse.
A raw, piercing scream—the desperate cry of someone mortally wounded.
She curled onto her side, clutching her stomach with both hands as her breathing turned into frantic, painful gasps.
That sound snapped the nurse out of her shock.
She didn't hesitate.
She didn't ask what had happened.
The disbelief vanished from her face, replaced instantly by calm, professional determination.
She rushed toward the hallway wall and slammed her fist against a large blue emergency button.
At once, the corridor lights began flashing.
A piercing alarm rang throughout the entire maternity floor.
"Code Gold, Room Four! Blunt abdominal trauma in a laboring patient! Security to Room Four immediately!" the nurse shouted over the hospital intercom.
Her voice echoed through every hallway, carrying an urgency that froze the blood in my veins.
Less than five seconds later, chaos exploded.
The door to our room burst open so violently that it slammed against the wall.
Three nurses rushed inside, followed by a young physician in a white coat who came running down the hallway.
"What happened?" he shouted as he hurried straight to Elena's bedside.
I couldn't move.
My mind refused to process what I had just witnessed.
"She threw the suitcase at me!" Elena cried through tears, pointing a trembling finger at my mother. "She hit my stomach! It hurts! It hurts so much! Please... my baby..."
The doctor looked at the heavy suitcase lying on the floor.
Then at my mother.
Then at me.
Horror spread across his face.
"Get the fetal monitor! Check her vitals—now!"
The nurses immediately surrounded Elena, lifting her hospital gown.
Then I saw it.
A dark crimson stain.
Blood.
It was already soaking into the white sheets beneath my wife.
"Doctor," one nurse said, her voice tight with fear, "there's significant vaginal bleeding."
Another looked at the monitor.
"The baby's heart rate is dropping."
"Fetal bradycardia."
The rapid, steady heartbeat we'd been listening to only moments earlier had slowed to something terrifyingly weak.
Too slow.
Irregular.
Every delayed beat stabbed straight through my chest.
Beep...
...
Beep...
...
...
Beep...
"No..."
My knees nearly gave out beneath me.
"My son... Mateo..."
I looked at the doctor, unable to stop shaking.
"Please... save my son."
"I need every family member out of this room immediately!" the doctor shouted while pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Prepare Operating Room Two! Emergency C-section! Possible placental abruption!"
I stepped backward automatically.
I wanted to get out of their way.
I would have done anything to help them save my wife and my son.
But my mother didn't move.
She remained planted in the middle of the room with her arms folded across her chest.
She looked at Elena with complete contempt.
"Oh, doctor, don't be so dramatic," she scoffed.
"It's just another one of this girl's tantrums. I barely touched her. I only let the suitcase fall. She's making a scene for attention like she always does."
She rolled her eyes.
"I've given birth to three children myself. I know exactly how this works."
The doctor stopped cold.
Slowly, he turned toward her.
For a split second, even the nurses froze.
They stared at her as if they were looking at something inhuman.
My head spun.
My own mother was watching my wife bleed.
She could hear her grandson's heartbeat fading.
And her pride was still more important than admitting she'd done something unforgivable.
The doctor took one slow step toward her.
His voice became dangerously calm.
"Ma'am."
"Your daughter-in-law is suffering severe internal bleeding caused by direct blunt-force trauma to the abdomen."
He pointed toward Elena.
"Both her life and your grandson's life are in immediate danger."
His jaw tightened.
"Get out."
My mother exploded.
"Don't you dare talk to me like that!"
She jabbed a finger toward his chest.
"I am Carmen Herrera, and I demand respect! That's my grandson! I'm not leaving until this ungrateful girl apologizes for trying to keep me away from him!"
I couldn't understand what I was hearing.
My entire life had revolved around managing my mother's ego.
After my father abandoned us, she'd turned herself into the family's unquestioned authority.
The martyr.
The woman who demanded absolute loyalty.
For thirty-two years I had excused every manipulation, every screaming match, every emotional threat.
I convinced myself it was love.
I swallowed the lie that everyone repeated:
"You only have one mother."
"And mothers should always be forgiven."
But standing there...
Watching Elena twist in agony...
Watching blood spread beneath her because of the woman who had given me life...
Something inside me shattered forever.
The illusion disappeared.
I wasn't looking at my mother anymore.
I was looking at a sociopath.
"Get her out!"
The roar that came from my chest didn't even sound like my own voice.
"Get her the hell out of here!"
At that exact moment, two hospital security officers stormed into the room.
They were large men dressed in black uniforms.
Behind them came Nurse Leticia—the same nurse who had witnessed everything through the observation window.
She pointed directly at my mother.
"That's her," she said firmly.
"She's the one who attacked the patient."
The officers didn't hesitate.
One stepped forward and took hold of my mother's left arm.
"Ma'am, you're coming with us."
"Take your hands off me, you animal!" she screamed.
She swung her free hand and slapped the guard across the face, her fingernails scratching his cheek.
The room erupted into complete chaos.
The second officer immediately grabbed her other arm.
"You're hurting me!" my mother shrieked.
"Help! Javier! Tell them who I am! Tell them to let me go!"
She looked straight at me.
Waiting.
Waiting for me to rescue her.
Waiting for the obedient little boy I'd always been.
The son who never dared to stand against her.
But I didn't move.
I stood frozen against the wall, my fists clenched so tightly that my fingernails cut into my palms.
I looked directly into her eyes.
For the first time in my life...
I felt nothing but disgust.
"You're a monster," I said quietly.
She read my lips.
Even over her own screaming, she understood exactly what I'd said.
The guards dragged her into the hallway.
Doors opened all along the maternity wing.
Pregnant women.
Terrified husbands.
Doctors.
Everyone watched the spectacle as my mother kicked, cursed, and screamed insults at me, at Elena, and at every member of the medical staff.
"You ungrateful son!"
"You'll regret this!"
"You're dead to me!"
"I hope that brat dies! He doesn't deserve my blood!"
Those were the last words I heard before the double doors swung shut behind her.
The echo of that curse lingered in the cold hospital corridor.
I turned back toward Elena.
There was no time left.
"We're losing her!" one of the nurses shouted.
"Her blood pressure is crashing!"
"Move!"
The doctor pushed the bed toward the operating room.
"Let's go! Now!"
I jumped aside as they rushed past me.
For one brief second, Elena turned her head.
Her eyes were half closed.
Her skin had turned a terrifying shade of gray.
Her lips were almost white.
She was fading.
"Save... Mateo..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"Promise me..."
"I love you!" I shouted, running after the bed.
"I'm right here! Hold on, Elena!"
We reached the automatic doors leading into the surgical wing.
The doors slid open.
The gurney disappeared inside.
I tried to follow.
Strong hands stopped me.
A male nurse blocked my path.
"This is as far as you can go, sir."
"It's a Code Red."
"My wife is in there!" I pleaded, struggling against his grip.
"My son is in there!"
"I have to be with them!"
"You can't."
His voice remained firm.
"They're fighting to save both their lives."
"We'll come get you as soon as we know something."
The automatic doors slid shut in front of me with a metallic hiss.
I was left standing alone in the hallway.
Above the entrance, a glowing red sign read:
OPERATING ROOM – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Silence returned.
Crushing.
Merciless silence.
My legs gave out.
I collapsed onto the cold linoleum floor.
My hands trembled uncontrollably.
I stared at my right hand—the same one my mother had struck when I tried to stop her.
It was swollen.
Red.
But the physical pain meant nothing compared to what was tearing me apart inside.
What had I done?
Why hadn't I stopped her before she ever reached the maternity ward?
Why hadn't I called the police the moment she walked into the hospital?
I knew exactly who my mother was.
I knew how vindictive she could be.
I knew she hated Elena simply because my wife had been the only person brave enough to stand up to her.
And still...
I'd tried to keep the peace.
I'd tried to be the good son.
The mediator.
The peacemaker.
My cowardice...
My inability to finally cut my toxic family out of our lives...
Had led us here.
My wife was bleeding out on an operating table.
My newborn son might already be dying...
Because my mother's wounded pride had mattered more to her than the life of her own grandchild.
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