Your first day in the United States

Pain, she only felt pain. Her own family had condemned her, she could not escape, she would die in that horrible place. It was only her first day in the United States, but she knew that soon she would not be able to tell how many days had passed.

Lucia was a child, barely 14 years old, her family and she had crossed the wall from Mexico into the United States and now, she was the only one in her family who had not been shot between the eyes.

Maybe it wasn't so bad, now that her parents had died at the border, even if she escaped, she had nowhere to go. No, they would only hurt her more there, it had only been nine hours and the small and now weak girl was only looking for a way to end her life.

Lucia was not a stranger, nor a freak, she was just a child, but soon the trauma and torture would destroy what was left of her sanity. It wasn't her fault, she knew that, but how do you explain it to a policeman who gags you every time you try to talk and calls you crazy when you cry?

The policemen in America were no good, they were torturers, abusers, and the nurses and volunteers were nothing more than their hypocritical accomplices.

She still felt drowned, just a short time before her arms had been tied and her head plunged into a bucket of cold water. The purpose? She couldn't find it, but the mere memory of that policeman laughing as he drowned her terrified her.

While lying on the ground, crying, she opened her eyes. There was a very small window with views to the garden, but when she looked out all she could see were other children, crying and consoling each other. In the distance, at the furthest point of the garden, she could see the policeman from before inappropriately touching one of the nurses.

"Run away dear, you'll end up like me" thought the young girl with a sad look.

She turned away from the window, scanning her cell with his eyes. It was very small, it could barely fit a bed and a chair. Perhaps the walls had once been white, but mould and dirt had left them grey. The floor looked like marble, maybe plaster, she didn't know what it was exactly but it certainly wasn't something that made the room more welcoming.

She sat on the bed, staring blankly, she could only hope that her tormentor would never return and that, perhaps, one day she could escape.