At 2:47 a.m., a little girl called crying: "It hurts... Daddy's baby wants to come out."

"It does much worse. It devours them," Cassandra said darkly. "It absorbs its nutrients at a physically impossible rate. Its muscles atrophy because this... this  parasite  monopolizes every milligram of glucose and oxygen. And that's not all. Look at the density measurements."

She displayed a second digital scan on a nearby screen. "The mass's outer shell calcifies. It hardens and forms a protective shell, like an egg or a cocoon. Its internal body temperature reaches 40 degrees Celsius. Its organism tries to fight it with fever, but in vain. The heat only accelerates its growth."

“Her father said she talked to the walls,” Tomás murmured, the hairs on his arms standing on end. “He said the house on Alamo Street was toxic. Could it be a biological pathogen? Mold? Chemical waste left behind by the gangs?”

“We’ve done blood cultures, bone marrow biopsies, and cerebrospinal fluid tests,” Cassandra said, shaking her head. “Nothing matches up. But the girl’s white blood cell count is practically zero. Her immune system isn’t fighting this tumor. It’s reacting as if it  were  an integral part of her body. As if her body has accepted it as an extension of her anatomy.”

Suddenly, a shrill, piercing alarm interrupted the conversation.

Inside the intensive care unit, Lili's body began to be wracked by violent convulsions.

Emergency intervention

"Epileptic seizure!" shouted a nurse, abruptly opening the glass doors.

Dr. Velázquez immediately set to work, with Tomás following closely behind despite hospital protocol. The room was now nothing but a cacophony of frantic gestures and shouts.

"Inject her with four milligrams of Lorazepam, now!" ordered Cassandra, pressing Lili's thin shoulders against the mattress to prevent her from throwing herself out of bed.

The little girl's eyes were wide open, but her gaze wasn't directed towards the ceiling. Her eyelids were rolled back so far that only the bloodshot whites of her eyes were visible. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that blood began to seep from her gums, trickling down her pale cheek.

But the most horrifying sight was his stomach.

As the crisis shook his small body, the mass beneath his skin began to move. It was not a passing abdominal spasm, but a distinct, rhythmic, undulating movement, starting from the left side of his rib cage and moving down to his pelvis, like thick liquid swirling violently in a leather bag.