I had just been born.
I didn't understand anything.
But something wasn't right.
The air.
That was the first thing I felt.
It filled my lungs, but it didn't feel right.
Too dry.
Too heavy.
As if it were carrying something.
Something I couldn't see… but that my body was already rejecting.
Every breath burned slightly.
Not enough to hurt.
But enough for me to notice.
Enough for it to linger.
The light was dim.
Not completely absent.
It was passing through something.
As if the sky itself were preventing the world from being clear.
Everything was blurry.
Not just because I had just been born.
But because nothing seemed clear.
Then there was the warmth.
My mother.
Her arms were around me.
Tight.
Too tight.
As if she were afraid I would disappear.
Or that someone would take me.
Her body was trembling slightly.
Not from the cold.
Something else.
A tension.
Constant.
I could hear her heart.
Fast.
Faster than mine.
Her hands moved often.
Always.
She was adjusting something.
Pulling me closer.
Hiding me a little more.
I didn't understand why.
But I sensed one simple thing:
she wasn't calm
Around us, the world wasn't like that either.
Noises.
Always.
Never steady.
Footsteps.
Sometimes quick.
Sometimes stopping abruptly.
Voices.
Low.
Short.
Never long.
Never pointless.
No one spoke for no reason.
Every sound seemed to have a purpose.
An urgency.
And between those sounds…
there was something else.
Silences.
Not normal silences.
Not calm.
Not restful.
Heavy silences.
As if everything stopped… to listen.
My body reacted before I did.
A sound too close, and my fingers tensed.
A sudden movement, and my breath caught.
I didn't know why.
I didn't even know what it was.
But something inside me already understood:
this world wasn't safe.
I hadn't fully opened my eyes yet.
Not really.
But I sensed things.
Shapes.
Shadows.
Movements.
The adults.
There were several of them.
I didn't know how many.
But I could sense them.
They never stayed still for long.
Even when they stood still… they moved.
Slightly.
As if ready to react.
Some were holding objects.
Long.
Hard.
I didn't know what they were for.
But the way they held them…
wasn't normal.
It wasn't for work.
It was for defense.
I didn't know what that word meant.
But my body already understood it.
My mother wouldn't let go of me.
Even when she moved.
Even when she had to do something.
She kept me close to her.
Always.
Sometimes, she would stand up suddenly.
Without warning.
Her body would suddenly tense up.
Her heart would race.
Her arms would wrap around me.
And she would wait.
Without moving.
Without really breathing.
As if something were passing through her.
Then, slowly…
she would relax.
But never completely.
Never.
Time passed.
I think.
I couldn't measure it.
But I was changing.
My eyes opened more often.
For longer.
The world became a little clearer.
Not reassuring.
Just more visible.
The walls around us were worn.
Damaged.
Some places seemed to have been repaired.
But not properly.
As if they'd been done in a hurry.
Or with very little.
There were openings.
Not really windows.
Holes.
Covered.
Partially.
Light came through them.
But never completely.
And the adults often looked in their direction.
Always briefly.
Never for too long.
As if they were afraid of seeing something.
Or of being seen.
I didn't understand.
But I sensed it.
And what I sensed always came back to the same thing:
Danger.
Not specific.
Not visible.
But present.
Always.
Once…
something changed.
A sound.
Different.
Not a footstep.
Not a voice.
Faster.
Lighter.
A movement.
All the adults reacted.
At the same time.
Bodies straightened up.
Hands gripped their belongings.
Eyes turned.
Toward an opening.
Me too.
Without understanding why.
I looked.
Something passed by.
Very quickly.
A shape.
Small.
An animal.
I didn't know what it was
But the adults knew.
And everything changed.
The voices grew louder.
Not loud.
But fast.
Their movements became abrupt.
They moved.
All of them.
Not to flee.
To catch.
They went outside.
Quickly.
My mother too.
But she didn't let go of me.
Not once.
Her body was even more tense.
Her heart was pounding.
Very hard.
Outside, the air was worse.
Hotter.
Heavier.
As if it were sticking to the skin.
I couldn't see well.
But I could hear.
Footsteps.
Running.
A crash.
A scream.
Then silence.
Brief.
Then voices.
Different.
Not tense.
Relieved.
A little.
When they came back, they were holding something.
Small.
Motionless.
The animal.
It wasn't moving anymore.
But everyone was looking at it.
Not with disgust.
With attention.
With need.
I didn't understand.
But I sensed one thing:
it was important.
Very important.
More important than anything else.
After that, things slowed down.
A little.
But not really.
The tension was still there.
Always present.
Always in the air.
In the gestures.
In the looks.
In the way my mother held me.
Always too tight.
Always ready.
As if something could happen.
At any moment.
I didn't know what.
I didn't know where from.
But my body…
it already knew.
And deep inside me,
without understanding why,
a feeling remained.
Not a thought.
Not a word.
Just a certainty.
I wasn't safe.