My child…
My baby…

I felt life slipping away from me with every passing second.

— Please… — I whispered. — Someone… help me…

But no one answered.

Dave looked at me as if I were nothing more than a useless object.

— Get up, — he said coldly. — You’ve made a mess of everything.

— I don’t feel well… — I gasped. — I need a doctor…

— Stop pretending, — his mother snapped. — You’re always causing trouble.

In that moment, I understood: to them, I wasn’t human. I was just a thing. Something to use. Something to throw away.

I tried to stand, but my legs refused to move. Darkness crept into my vision.

And then I thought of my father.

The man who had always protected me.

I lifted my head and looked straight into Dave’s eyes.

— Call… my father.

He laughed.

— Why? So that stupid farmer can come here and cry?

— Call him. Now.

There was no fear left in my voice. Only determination.

He hesitated for a second, then grabbed his phone.

— Hello, — he growled. — Come get your daughter. She’s making another scene.

I closed my eyes.

Please… come in time…

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Dave went to open the door.

Three men in suits were standing outside.

And in the middle of them—my father.

He no longer looked like a tired farmer.

He was calm. Upright. Powerful.

— Where is my daughter? — he asked firmly.

Dave froze.

My father stepped inside and saw me lying in blood.

For a moment, his expression changed.

Then he said quietly:

— Call an ambulance. Now.

One of the men was already dialing.

Another began taking photos.

— You have no right! — my mother-in-law shouted. — This is our home!

— It was, — my father replied coldly.

He knelt beside me and took my hand.

— Forgive me, my girl… I thought you were happy.

— Dad… — I whispered.

— I’m here. No one will hurt you again.

The ambulance arrived.

They took me to the hospital.

Later, I learned the truth.

My father was not an ordinary farmer.

He owned a large construction company.

He had power. Connections. Influence.

That evening, an investigation was opened.

Domestic abuse.
Severe injury.
Blocking medical help.
Psychological cruelty.

Dave was arrested.

His mother cried, begged, and screamed.

It was useless.

I spent three weeks in the hospital.

My baby survived.

When the doctor told me, I cried with joy.

I started a new life.

Without fear.
Without pain.
Without humiliation.

And Dave understood too late:

He didn’t destroy me.

He destroyed himself.