Chloe continued to film, her phone capturing every excruciating moment. I could hear her narrating to her online followers, painting me as the villain in this twisted tale. I felt a surge of anger at the violation, the invasion of my most vulnerable moment turned into content for social media. But I was helpless. My body refused to respond, every nerve ending alight with agony.
The room was spinning now, my vision a tunnel of darkness edged with flickers of light. I knew I was losing consciousness, and with it, the precious time needed to save my unborn child. The thought sent a new wave of terror through me. I couldn’t let it end this way. Not without a fight.

Summoning every ounce of strength left in me, I dug my nails into the floor, trying to drag myself towards the door, towards freedom, towards anyone who might hear my silent cry for help. But it was futile. My body wouldn’t cooperate. The world was slipping away, my awareness fading like a dying ember.
As the darkness closed in, an unexpected calm washed over me. It wasn’t acceptance—it was determination. I might be down now, but I knew that this moment would not define me. The promise I made echoed in my mind: “All of you will regret this.” It wasn’t a threat born of spite, but a vow fueled by love for the life inside me and the future I would fight for, no matter the cost.