Maria’s Journey

Maria’s Journey

By Greg

Chapter 1

The Honduran city of San Pedro Sula is the city of my birth. My beloved grandparents would cry for what has taken place here. I am thankful they never lived to see that what was once a lush, peaceful city has now turned into a violent, gang-infested nightmare.

I will only use my given name, Maria, for I am ashamed of many of the things I have done in my short life. The slum that I have grown up in has been taken over by a local gang. Barrio 18 rules this entire region. At first, they controlled just the drug trade, so if you avoided that, you were generally left alone. Over the last few years, they have taken over everything. They extort payments from honest businessmen, and they rob and harass people with no fear of the police. They now control the lives of everyone and are hated and feared by all who live here.

My papa was an important man in his time. He was killed by political rivals five years ago. The government never took any steps to avenge his murder. My older brother, Carlos, tried to be strong for Momma and me, but he was only two years older than me. These were violent times, and it required strong, grown men to protect their families.

Since Papa’s death, Momma could no longer afford to live in our old house. She was forced to sell, and now we rented a tiny shack just a few blocks away from it. I think it was actually a converted garage for the larger house out in front. I was always so ashamed of the way we were now living, that I never invited any of my friends over for fear of the look on their faces if they saw our little place.

Our family was even the target of insults by neighbors. They held my papa responsible for failing to take a tougher stand against the corrupt local government officials. Papa was resistant to using his influence to force them out; he preferred a non-violent approach. Giving of his own life was apparently not enough for some people. Crime was now in charge, and corruption within the police allowed the criminals to run free.

I was sent away right after Papa’s death to live with Momma’s sister, Theresa, for almost four years. It was during this time that my body was going through many changes. It was only when I noticed how the young men would look at me that I began to discover the curse that was upon me. I wasn’t like the other girls with plump bottoms and wide hips. My momma had been very attractive in her early years, and from the pictures my aunt showed me, I was the very image of her at that age. Even today, Momma is still quite stunning, but since Papa’s death, she has hid it all behind baggy clothing and unflattering shawls. She never wore make-up to call attention to herself. As a young girl, I had seen her on occasion getting dressed, and her figure would be the envy of anyone half her age.

My beauty would have been a blessing in any other culture or time, too. Somewhere else, I might have even become an important celebrity or at least attracted a rich husband. Here, however, I attracted only the wrong people. Egged on by some close girlfriends, I began experimenting with make-up and some flattering clothing. I really didn’t need it to attract the boys, because everywhere we went, all the boys seemed to focus on me.

My aunt would say to me how my natural beauty was handed down by the ancient ones. My looks reflected my heritage; high cheekbones and full lips were traits passed down from generations long ago. My grandmamma was a full-blooded Ch’orti’ Indian. She was descended from the Mayans, who were known to all as God’s chosen people. Ancient beliefs held that men of these tribes were rewarded from the wind and earth gods with the most beautiful of wives.

I had full breasts and a narrow waist. Any tight-fitting clothing would define the natural curves of my hips. Coal black eyes and brows were features that I must have picked up from my papa’s side of the family. He, too, was well regarded for his classic good looks. My aunt would often warn me that this was both a blessing and a hex.

Unfortunately, I was also becoming a bit of a rebellious teenager. I started hanging around with the local boys who wished to take me out. Honduras is a poor country with slums everywhere, but the one thing the government does do is to supply free birth control pills to any girl wishing them. I was offended, but my aunt marched me right up to the dispensary, and I was given my pills. The government would rather no babies be born than to have still more poor mouths to feed.

I was eventually sent back to live with Momma after my aunt’s husband left her. She didn’t have any income now and could not continue to feed me. Once back in the slum with Momma, I resisted her pleas to tone down my style of dress. Of course, I wouldn’t listen. I had a mind of my own. I was nineteen now, and I felt I had the right to do as I wished.

Momma tried to pull me closer, but I was foolishly pushing her away. Still, there were quiet times. I’d wake up some mornings to the sensation of her stroking my hair. My eyes would blink away the sleep, and I would find her sitting silently alongside my bed, staring at me. In the soft rays of morning light, I could often see tears in her eyes as she found comfort in my face. I knew that she was seeing my Papa in me. The consoling gaze of my papa’s eyes looking back at her helped her make it through one more day. The wound of my papa’s loss was still as fresh as it had ever been.

Momma only had one sister and one older brother, Enrico. He was a hard worker. He ran a small business doing home repairs. He and his family lived not too far from us, but they didn’t stop by that often. I think he was always busy keeping his business growing to support his wife Sofia and his son Luis. Other than that, Momma, Carlos, and I were now on our own. The tiny shack Momma was living in was an embarrassment to me. Carlos was there, and I had truly missed him. I loved my momma, but I couldn’t live like this.

The gang’s presence in our neighborhood was always felt. You seldom ventured out alone, and never after dark. Yet, I was young and arrogant. I figured my looks offered me some kind of privilege or immunity. Sure, I got the whistles and catcalls, but I just took them as a compliment.

Most of the gang members were losers, and most were ugly. I kind of figured they would be intimidated by a confident girl like me. Most times, my bluff worked too. I found that a couple of the uglier ones actually seemed flattered, that I would even nod a polite recognition of their existence.

One of the higher-ranking gang members was a guy nick-named Lobo. I’d probably run into him a couple of times a week. Actually, I think he was searching out where I might be and was pretending to “happen” to be in my path. I thought it was a little cute the way he was trying to get to say hello to me so often.

“Machismo bravado,” I thought. He struts like a young rooster, yet he is unsure of himself around a girl like me. This little game went on for a couple months. Of course, I knew why he was really checking me out, but I really had no idea as to the seriousness of the game I was playing.

My brother Carlos knew about Lobo and tried to warn me off. Carlos had grown up with some of the gang’s members, and some had even been his friends up until they joined the gang. Once in the gang, however, you only associated with other gang members. Everyone else was “prohibido.”

I was returning from the market carrying a small package one day, and of course I ran into Lobo.

“Hola, buenos dias, “How are you today?” he asked rather timidly.

“Fine, and you,” I said.

“It is a beautiful day for a walk,” he would offer, trying to be charming.

This little verbal dance would continue each time we met. I don’t think he had rehearsed anything more to say past this. In my culture, it was not proper for an unescorted young lady to strike up conversations with just anyone walking down the street, even today. But still, I was flattered. Our shy exchange bounced back and forth like two school kids, with maybe one having a blossoming crush on the other.

He must have finally worked up the courage to actually approach me. He practically took the package from my hand and offered me an escort home. He seemed to already know exactly where I lived. I was totally embarrassed by this because I didn’t want anyone to know that I lived in an old converted garage. He seemed polite in a weird sort of way. He offered his name, and even though I already knew it, I pretended not to. I said thanks in appreciation for his small act of kindness.

Lobo was not really a bad-looking young man. He wasn’t as tall as I would have preferred, and I think that bothered him somewhat. He was always trying too hard to impress me. He always acted so tough if anyone else was in sight, but if we seemed alone, he would lose his toughness, just a little, and become calmer. He always seemed to prefer black or darker clothing laced with steel rivets. His curly hair style looked to be another attempt to try to add to his height and overall physical size.

Momma had no clue as to what I had been up to. I was playing it loose with a major bad guy in the neighborhood, and my luck was about to run out. Carlos’ pleas held no importance with me. I ignored his warnings and would continue to stop and make small talk with Lobo. He really didn’t seem that awful. Maybe he just needed an understanding friend.

I severely underestimated the gang’s power and ruthlessness. Maybe the individual members themselves weren’t all that bad, but all combined they became a pack of dangerous animals. Still, I reasoned that it would be better to at least be on good terms with one or two of them if I could. The day this all changed will stick in my memory until I die.

Lobo asked me if I wanted to see where he hung out. I innocently figured it would be his home, or maybe their silly clubhouse. I had no clue. I felt special as he escorted me along the streets of my neighborhood. All others gave clearance to us. He walked like he owned everything around us. We had gone maybe eight to ten blocks, but I was still totally comfortable because this was still my neighborhood.

At a major street intersection, a ratty-looking vehicle pulled up alongside us. Guys I had never seen before were inside. Lobo ignored me and “gang-signed” some code or handshake with a couple guys in the front seat. The rear doors popped open, and I was invited in.

This next moment would change my life forever. My world would change, and the lives and futures of many others would come to be altered because of my foolishness here. To this day, I wish I had never set eyes upon Lobo. Every bit of common sense should have told me not to do it, but I did.

I got in.

The car lurched, and off we went. I was flanked by Lobo and squished against some other big, greasy guy with tattoos all up his neck. His arms, hands, and even fingers were covered. This guy never even smiled the whole time I was there. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes had passed when the guy driving pulled a u-turn right in the middle of a block. With tires squealing, we pivoted and pulled up in front of a two-story brick building. Gang symbols covered the crumbling walls. It looked junky out back, as though the residents had just tossed the garbage out the rear doors. My hands still shake even today, just describing that awful place.

We all piled out of the car and walked to the front of the building. Several sentries stood watch out front. I thought to myself, “As if this would be worth protecting.” Walking into that horrible place would change my life forever.

Recruitment into a gang was different for guys and girls. Young men would be groomed from an early age to do small tasks and rise in status as their roles changed. Girls had but one way in—fucking!

Being young and stupid, I figured I had this under control. Lobo wasn’t that bad-looking. If he wanted to get it on with me, I’d do that. I wasn’t a virgin anyway. A boy near my aunt’s house had taken that almost a year earlier. Besides, the status Lobo seemed to hold would at least give Momma, Carlos, and I a little protection from the other low-lifes hanging around. I figured it would be better for us if he was at least partial to me.

Some dirty, warm bottles of beer were handed to us as we climbed a narrow flight of steps up to the second floor. I was quietly rubbing the top portion of the bottle, trying to wipe any grime from where my lips would touch it. I didn’t want to offend any of them right away.

Upstairs, there were maybe fifteen to twenty guys hanging around. I was relieved to at least see a couple other girls there playing pool over by a bar. A cloud of tobacco smoke hung like a curtain across the ceiling. Lobo and I sat at a table and opened our beers. Some guy walked up and offered Lobo a hit from a joint. He accepted it and then passed it to me. I thought I should, just to be polite.

The buzz was almost immediate. It even made swallowing the beer possible. Lobo began talking, and I seemed to be paying attention, but I was more interested in the surroundings. So this was it. This was the big, bad lair. I took a second hit from something someone shoved in front of my face, and after that things got really fuzzy. Lobo was asking if I wanted to go to the lounge with him. I was feeling really dizzy at this point and figured maybe the chairs or a couch would be more comfortable.

I remember Lobo and I were going down stairs again, and then into a basement area. It was dimly lit and smelled of mold. I was thinking like a dumb ass, so this is where the secret meetings are held. I flopped down at the first open spot on a ratty couch. My legs were so wobbly that it felt good to sit. Lobo sat next to me. He offered another hit off something, but I refused it this time.

Lobo was complimenting my looks and the sharp way that I dress. I kind of figured he wanted sex. I could tell because we were completely alone, and he was acting very nervous. I started kissing him, and he responded awkwardly, trying to push his tongue into my mouth right away. The taste of stale beer was still very present, so I kind of cut it off there. He began pawing at my breasts, and I remember opening my blouse to expose myself. At this point, he really began trembling. “Timid little boy,” I thought to myself.

I was trying to loosen my pants, and I figured this wasn’t going to be the best fuck I would ever get. He seemed unsure and almost clueless about how to enter a girl. He lunged at me, poking his cock around like a horny dog. Finally, he got it right. I laid back and tried to enjoy his best effort.

He hurt! The dumbass hadn’t lubed up or anything. From some place he offers me another hit off a joint. I figured I might just need this, so I drew a drag and held it. I noticed he didn’t. I vaguely recall his effort because he didn’t seem to last that long. I do remember him grunting while his hands were pushing my breasts around. It wasn’t doing anything for me.

Suddenly, someone was trying to open my mouth and kiss me again. I closed my eyes this time. Then, I felt a cock being slapped against my breasts. A pair of hands began squeezing my breasts down really hard.

“Hey!” I said, “Not so rough.”

When I looked up, it wasn’t Lobo. The big guy from the car with all the tattoos was shirtless and slobbering all over my breasts. I tried to get up but was held down by yet another pair of hands. The tattoo guy straddled me. I looked down and saw his stiff cock pointing right at me. He started lining up his cock to fuck me, and I started to scream.

“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled.

Before the next words could even leave my mouth, a hand covered my face. Another hand began stroking my hair. Hands seemed to come from everywhere. The tattoo guy rams his cock up into me. It was so hard, I thought it was a steel bar. I squirmed all that I could, but he continued. He was pumping at me like he had never gotten laid in his life.

My whole body was being tossed about as the guy jerked at my hips. Now some shithead with a hard-on was trying to jam another cock into my mouth. Fingers pulled my mouth open just in time for a load of cum to land diagonally across my face. No sooner had one guy stepped away when another would launch a spray from the opposite direction.

The tattoo guy was now groaning and began spewing his filth into me. I wiggled to try to push him out, but I think this just added to his pleasure. I couldn’t breathe; I needed air. All I got was a constant rainstorm of cum. Droplets pelted my face and neck from all directions. I think the tattoo guy was now done, and instantly another guy jumped on me and started lining up his cock. That one hurt too. By now, I could feel the loads still inside of me being worked around. Cumshots continued splattering my body.

My breasts were becoming raw from all the pulling and twisting. “What in the hell were they trying to do?” I thought. “Rip them right off me!” One or two guys were over me, biting and pulling at my nipples. I could feel hot cum pooling on every spot on my body. More grunting followed, and another flood of cum spilled into me. I knew I had to be full by now. Cum had to be being pushed out of me at this point. I lost count of the cocks that entered me. My eyes burned from the biting sting of semen splattered about on my face. I was blinded. Each time I got a hand loose to rub out an eye, a new load would replace it.

One cock, then another, and they just kept at it. I couldn’t speak or scream out. Anytime I opened my mouth for a second, some dick would launch a spray into my throat. I had already choked on half a dozen already. Would it ever end? Surely everyone there had to have had their turn by now.

“Lobo?” I called. “Lobo, help me!” I cried.

“Lobo, you fucker, where the hell are you?” I screamed.

I was trying to maintain some sense of myself. I didn’t want to completely lose all control. I was completely covered in cum. The only good thing about this was that eventually no one seemed to want to touch or pull at me anymore. My breasts were incredibly sore from the bites, pinches, and constant pulling that they had endured.

Suddenly a pair of hands clenched my face, and through tears I could make out two girls. These were probably the ones I had seen earlier upstairs. They were trying to force my mouth open. The one got my lips apart and held my jaw down. Someone from behind pulled my hair back against the cushion, and the stupid bitches began spitting right into my mouth.

One, then the other spat huge gobs at me. Most entered my mouth, and the rest mixed with the tracks of semen on my face. They were scooping the remains of cum off me and scraping it off into my mouth. I gritted my jaw. I think they knew better than to get a finger near my teeth. I’d have bit their fingers right off if I could, and I think they knew that.

While they were doing this, I spotted Lobo across the room, standing with some of the others, laughing and just watching. They all had beers in their hands and were rubbing their crotches as the girls assaulted me.

My composure finally broke. I couldn’t stop crying. I was pissed and scared up until now, but I realized that this was all just entertainment for them. Lobo wasn’t going to offer me any protection or friendship. He just used me to supply the gang with a fun night. This was all for nothing. I went from rage to collapsing into fear. I guess they had finally gotten their fill of my shame. The girls released me and followed the guys upstairs.

Just as I thought it was over, a lone guy comes running down the stairs. I guess he had gotten there late. The others must have said I was all his. The look on his face as he approached me broke all the remaining strength that I had.

He had this look of revulsion on his face. I was a total mess—reddened skin matted with cum sickened him. I was not even fuckable. He looked at me for a couple moments but didn’t seem to be able to muster up a hard-on. I was weeping uncontrollably. I looked up at him and thought, “Really, you want some of this?”

He looked me over for a few seconds, put his head down, and slowly walked back up the stairs. I sat there for a long time, trying to get myself together. The backsides of my thighs hurt from all the rubbing. Belt buckles and studs on the pants of some who hadn’t removed them had raked the backside of my legs raw.

I guess I finally realized no one was going to come down and help me, so I tried to stand. Cum was flowing out of me, trailing down my inner thighs. I took a couple of small steps. I needed something to wipe myself with. Looking around, there was nothing.

In one corner was a closed door. I thought it might be some kind of closet or maybe a bathroom. I sort of shuffled over to it, carrying my soiled clothing. My shoes were scattered somewhere on the floor, and bending over to pick them up was excruciating. The door wasn’t locked, so I tugged on it. It was jammed, so I pulled harder. The door popped open toward me. It was dark inside. I found the pull chain for the light.

The room was empty except for two bags lying on a small wooden table. One was a dirty green backpack, and the other was a duffel-type bag. Maybe someone had some clothing in there that I could use to wipe up with, I thought. I unzipped the duffel bag and was stunned to see bricks of white power wrapped in plastic and stacked neatly in rows. I couldn’t be sure whether it was heroin or cocaine. I let go of the bag as if it were an electric shock.

I pulled the backpack up and opened it. I could not believe my eyes. Tight stacks of bills were arranged in neat bundles. Some were Lempira, but most were US dollars. Every space available was packed tightly. I touched some, maybe out of disbelief. I trailed my hand down one stack and pried back one bill. One hundred-dollar US bills—thousands of them I dragged my thumb down slowly. Were they all hundreds?

My hands shook and my body chilled as I realized I had discovered the very thing the gang relied on: cash—thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars. This was likely part of the hard-earned money they had taken from people all over the slum as extortion, too. Poor people’s desperately-needed money was here, mixed with ill-gotten drug sales.

I sat on the filthy floor and began trying to get my shoes back on. I pulled my bra on right over the moist stains still clinging to me. I couldn’t find my panties, so I just pulled my jeans up and felt the wetness still trailing down the inside of my leg. My hair was a mat of drying semen. I tried to hold it back, and it actually clung together due to all the goo drying in it.

As I reached for the light and turned it off, I looked out across the basement. Towards the back of the room, I could see a set of stairs leading up to the rear. I shuffled weakly in that direction. The heavy door was held shut by three heavy drawbolts that were covered in rust and spider webs. The door had probably not been opened in years. Only a few steps up, I could see through the dirty windows that it was now very dark outside. I could hear the muffled blare of music coming from somewhere upstairs. The celebration was already underway. I guess I had only been the warm-up for the evening. I forced the bolts back and pulled the door open.

The rear of the building was a junk pile. Trash and garbage littered the whole area. The alley seemed even darker and would be the best way out.

Something in me would not let it go. The bastards had taken all of my dignity. I knew that Lobo would still see me around and think of me as shit. Fuck him!

Maybe it was some of the fogginess of the drugs they had used on me. I knew the rage was building inside of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t believe my legs as they turned on their own, and I staggered back into that basement.

The stash in the closet! I deserved it! I had certainly earned it. “Fuck them! Fuck them!” I kept repeating. I went back in, yanked open the door, grabbed both bags, and pushed the door closed. I practically stumbled going up the steps and out into the cool evening. “Bastards, goddamn bastards, every one of them!” I said to myself. I could now hear the party in full swing even from half a block away.

I walked for blocks and blocks. I knew I was miles away from home. Eventually I made my way to a busy road, thinking maybe someone would give me a ride. I stood along the curb but soon realized the futility of this. Occasionally, a lone truck would speed past. No one slowed down.

This was still a bad area, and no driver was going to stop. I looked like a mess. I smelled of cum, my hair was all matted down. No one would ever…

“The money,” I thought for a second and figured maybe it would improve my chances. I unzipped the backpack and tore the band off a pile of bills. I snaked out a single one-hundred dollar bill and walked for a bit until I was clear of any buildings. I stood in an open spot and waited for the next group of vehicles to go by.

As the next vehicles approached, I held up the bill and slowly waved it. The group of cars blew past me. The next ones did the same. But then, suddenly, the last truck in the group slowed, and brake lights came on. I couldn’t believe it. An old pickup truck backed slowly towards me. The windows were already down. An old man was behind the wheel. He stopped and studied me for a second.

“Hola, Señor,” I started.

“Do you wish a ride?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind, sir,” I choked out the words.

“You can hop in the back if you want to,” he said, motioning over his shoulder.

I climbed in quickly before he changed his mind. He started off down the road, with me riding on the wooden crates he had stacked in back. The night air was cleansing in a small way. The stench from my body was being blown away. The wind and my tears had finally washed away the remnants of the gang’s attack from my eyes.

I began staring at the bill fluttering in my hand. I had never touched a bill so big. I knew they existed, but I never dreamed I would have something like that in my own hand. We went along for maybe fifteen minutes when, off to the right, I began to see the familiar shapes of the church steeples in my neighborhood. I tapped on the rear window, and the old guy started slowing down and then came to a stop along the shoulder. I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder, grabbed the backpack, and climbed out of the back.

I walked up on the passenger side still holding the bill and tried to offer it to him, but he waved me off. He was a kindly-looking old gentleman, most likely a farmer. His weathered skin and calloused hands displayed a hard but honest life. I let the bill fall from my grip, and it landed on the seat next to him. I thanked him, and he was off.

Chapter 2

I tried to creep as quietly as possible into my little home. I had hoped not to wake Momma, but I had just gotten inside when the light came on. Momma was still dressed and had been sitting in the dark waiting for me. Somehow, she knew something bad had happened to me.

I will never forget the look on her face. I was a total mess. My eyes had turned red, and my hair had become matted. The damp stains down my pant legs were still visible. She started crying. I couldn’t touch her. I started crying too. Tears I didn’t know were still in me flowed down my cheeks. During all this, Carlos had woken up. He was completely shocked at my appearance.

As only a mother can love her offspring, Momma’s first instinct was to grab washcloths and begin bathing me. She waved Carlos away with no voice, just heartbreaking moans. She ran the warm water in the tub and laid out towels on the floor. She carefully helped me remove the clothing which was stuck in places to my skin. Her agony and hurt grew as each article of my clothing was peeled away.

My breasts were covered with bite marks and scratches. She knew! She knew in her heart what I had gone through. The rape had left marks all over me.

She gently stroked my face with soap and a soft cloth. Pouring warm water over my head was the most comforting feeling I could ever remember. Soapy water cascaded down my shoulders, taking the filth with it. She wrapped a towel around my head, pulled my face into her bosom, and held me there. I could feel the vibrations in her body as she wept.

We didn’t speak of the things that had happened. There would be time for that later. For now, she just wanted to hold me and reassure me that I would survive this. She was just thankful that I was alive. Our moment in the bathroom was short lived. As she led me out the door and into the cool room, Carlos was standing there with the two bags I had dropped on the floor. He had opened both of them. The contents were clearly visible. Momma looked at me. Her face was white as a ghost.

“Maria, what…?

Carlos was speechless too, but he already knew. He picked up a brick of dope and held it out.

“The gang’s?”

Somehow, in the clear light of our small room, the reality of what I had done was beginning to dawn on me. Momma started to panic.

“Take it back,” she said. “Take it all back,” she kept repeating herself.

Momma’s voice began to show her terror.

I was shivering now and almost ready to pass out. I hadn’t thought of the consequences. I hadn’t thought at all. Carlos just stood there with a blank look on his face. And if it wasn’t bad enough already, the first words out of his mouth were, “They will kill us all for this.” We all knew it was true.

“Take it back,” Momma kept repeating, her voice now rising in terror. Carlos looked at her in disbelief. “We can’t, Momma; they will murder us all and cut our heads off.”

Carlos sat on the bed, shaking his head. “We are all dead.”

“Damn it, stop saying that!” I said, crying again.

Momma cradled my head, almost shaking it. I knew she was beside herself, and yet she still wanted this all to just go away. Carlos finally said the most responsible thing.

“We’ve got to get Uncle Enrico.” “He will know what we should do.”

“We will, first thing in the morning,” Momma said. “Now we need to sleep.”

“No!” “We have to now!” said Carlos, almost shouting. “They will be here tonight and kill us for sure.”

Carlos began getting dressed. He needed to get to a friend’s house to borrow a phone. We were too poor and didn’t have that luxury. He hurried out as soon as he was dressed.

Uncle Enrico was speechless when he arrived and heard what I had done.

“My God, child, what were you thinking?” he said.

I had shed enough tears that evening to last my lifetime. The horror I had brought down on us all would be the end of everything I had ever known. Uncle Enrico paced the floor. He was shaking his head, trying to devise some way. He hadn’t seen what they had done to me, and Momma’s pleas for returning it fell on deaf ears. I had never seen Uncle Enrico so upset. Finally, he grabbed Momma and sternly held her arms to her sides.

“Mija,” They will kill us if we try to return it, don’t you understand this? We have very little time. We must leave. We must all leave. They will hunt each of us down and kill every one of us. “We have to leave here now.” His words didn’t register at first.

“For how long?” I asked, sounding dumb.

“Forever” was his stern answer. “Pack, pack quickly.” Now! “And take only what you need; hurry!”

How does someone tell you something like, “Just leave your life?” My world was changing right then, in the early morning hours of that day. Things would be different from all that I knew from now on.

We loaded up Uncle Enrico’s work van with every scrap of our small lives.