“Your sister is defective, which means you’ll be the one to give birth.” “What?” I exclaim in shock. “Have you gone mad.” “Shut your mouth if you want to stay alive,” he says in a tone that brooks no argument. “Tomorrow we’re going to the clinic. You’ll give blood tests… And I’m counting on the fact that you’re still a virgin.” “You’re joking,” I don’t believe what’s happening, trying not to focus on the wild fear. “Do I look like someone who jokes?” this terrible man—whose fear grips the whole city—raises an eyebrow. And now… it’s my turn…