Chapter 6

Isabella had her worst night since leaving the streets and becoming a prostitute. She didn't know how to handle the fact that she was pregnant; she didn't know if she could tell her father, considering her occupation as a sex worker. She feared that he might confront her and shirk responsibility.
By five in the morning, Isa was already up, holding the test results in her hand. She was grateful for the medication prescribed by the doctor; at least, she didn't spend the night nauseous and sleepless. When she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, the girl became even more desperate. Her eyes were sunken, and huge dark circles had formed under her eyelids. She had two clients scheduled for the day, but she couldn't attend to them in that condition. She called her pimp to cancel the "appointments."
— Is this going to start causing losses, Mel? — That was the name Isa used for her work; the only client who knew her real name was Aléssio, with whom Isa had developed an unusual connection between client and prostitute. — When you decide to come back, make sure to be in the mood to cover the losses. — A commanding voice came from the other end of the phone.
Isabella hung up and rolled her eyes in curse to the pimp, who didn't even bother to ask why she was absent. But Isa didn't know what to do; her thoughts oscillated between having a baby and leaving prostitution or having an abortion since she wouldn't have a dignified and stable life to raise a child.
Isa had her black coffee, even though the doctor advised against it, and ate a biscuit from her cupboard. She held her phone tightly in her left hand and scrolled through her contacts, trying to find someone to help her decide what to do. She remembered her adoptive father, who, before her biological mother decided to abort, had offered to adopt the child, insisting that she not kill the poor baby. "You could have let me die," crossed Isa's mind when she recalled all the tortures suffered by her adoptive mother.
Her eyes welled up as she remembered the night when Laura, Sofia, and Lucas gathered to torture her, tying her hands behind her back, gagging her mouth to prevent her from screaming, and Laura burning her thighs with lit cigarette butts. The girl writhed in pain, and the Romanov siblings reveled in her suffering. Until her father arrived and yelled at everyone, asking them to stop. Paulo threatened to leave Laura if she did any more harm to the girl, Isa. That's when the tortures diminished, but Isa's pain was much deeper than a cigarette burn.
— Daddy, — Isa uttered aloud, caressing his photo on the phone screen. Her tears streamed down her face like a dripping faucet. So she decided to call her father and try to talk to him a bit, even though he was a puppet of Laura and had followed her orders. He wasn't to blame for Isa's suffering. In moments of sobriety, without the influence of alcohol, her father still talked to Isa and paid attention to her. It just wasn't enough to keep her in that toxic family. Before Isa could come to her senses, the number was already dialed on her phone and ringing. She tried to hang up, but her father answered quickly.
— Daddy? — Isa put the phone to her ear, her voice trembling.
— Who is this? — the voice on the other end of the line feigned ignorance.
In her thoughts, Isa already figured it wasn't a good idea to call her father, especially after their last encounter when she shouted that she would only see him in a coffin.
— Don't you recognize me, Dad? It's me, Isabella.
— I have no daughter named Isabella. — Paulo asserted and hung up the phone.
Hearing the repetitive beep of her cellphone, Isabella became aggressively irritated. Her father was her last hope, and he made it clear that he wanted no further connection with her.
Isabella got up from the bed and went to the bathroom; she needed to wash her face, flooded with tears. She rubbed her face forcefully, trying to rid herself of the anguish that dominated her chest. She sat slumped on the floor, in the corner of the wall, and surrendered to tears. Her thoughts varied; at times, she wanted to have the baby and build the family she had always dreamed of; at other times, she felt the pain of abandonment and disdain from everyone she knew. She realized that bringing a child into the world could consign a life to the abyss, causing suffering. The only affectionate gestures Isa knew were from the pseudo-passionate clients she served. In this thought, she felt an intense pain in her chest, as if her heart were tearing and emerging through her skin. She desperately wished that death would come to relieve her of the pain she felt.
With whom else could Isabella count on?