Chapter 4: The Collapse
Mateo’s face, previously twisted in a snarl, suddenly crumpled. The anger that had fueled his frantic sprint down the hallway evaporated, leaving behind a terrifying, hollow sadness. He let out a choked sob, the sound tearing from his throat like a physical wound.
Rosa didn't hesitate. She opened her arms, and the boy threw himself into her embrace. He buried his face in the starched white apron of her uniform, his small hands clutching the fabric as if she were the only solid object in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control. Rosa wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling his head to her shoulder, rocking him gently amidst the ruined china.
"I've got you," she whispered, her own eyes squeezing shut as she held the broken boy. She didn't care about the mess. She didn't care about the ruined antique. She cared about the fact that a ten-year-old boy felt so isolated, so misunderstood, that violence was his only remaining language. And as she held him, she made a silent vow that the silence in this house was going to end today.
