The weeks passed. The confidence grew slowly. Lupa allowed Julia to brush her soft new hair. And in one of those simple moments, the world crumbled. Julia was brushing gently when Lupa suddenly shuddered, grabbed the edge of Julia’s shirt and whispered in a dreamy voice: “It hurts… don’t touch me, mommy.”
Julia was frozen. Not because of the pain, that could be understood, but because of that word. Mommy. Lupa almost spoke. And what she said was not casual. It was a memory. An old fear. Julia swallowed, laid the pencil down slowly and answered in a low voice, hiding the storm she felt inside: —Okay. We’ll stop for now.
That night, Julia couldn’t sleep. Richard had told her that Lupa’s mother had died. So, why did that word convey such a precise emotion? Why did Lupa tense up as if she were waiting for a scream? In the following days, Julia noticed patterns. Lupa shuddered when someone walked behind her. She would become rigid when certain voices were raised. And, above all, she seemed to worsen after certain medications.
The answers began to form in the warehouse. Julia opened an old cupboard and found boxes with faded labels, bottles and vials with unfamiliar names. Some had red warning labels. The dates were old. And the same name appeared again and again: Lupa Wakefield.
Julia took photographs and spent the night investigating each medication as if she were gasping for air. What she found made her blood run cold. Experimental treatments. Serious side effects. Substances banned in some countries. This wasn’t careful medical attention. It was a risk map.
Julia imagined Lupa’s small body receiving doses destined for something completely different. Fear gripped her, but underneath, something stronger: a clean, protective anger. She didn’t tell Richard. Still no. She had seen him sitting at the foot of Lupa’s bed as if his life depended on it. But Lupa was in danger, and Lupa trusted her.
Julia began to document everything: schedules, doses, reactions. She observed the nurse. She compared the bottles in the bathroom with those in the storeroom. The worst part was the superposition. What should have been decommissioned was still being used.
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