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A Cry for Harmony
A Cry for Harmony Chapter 1
You lived in one of the poorest parts of Cuba. Everyday crimes engulfed your neighborhood; people would be killed or kidnapped, homes were broken into, and people died of diseases and famine. No one wanted to be outside and hope dwindled upon the poor. For years young girls were sold (or taken away in some cases) by their parents or family members to human traffickers so they would be sold to rich U.S. men. You had heard of this before and had witnessed such acts as a little girl, you feared that that one day would come and you would be taken away. And that day had finally arrived. You had been captured by Cuban rebels and you along with other teenage girls would be shipped into the US to be sold to the best better. You were only 14 years old, but were familiar to the cruelties that the world had to offer. Your family didn’t live in peace, but still you managed to survive with a glint of hope in your eyes always having faith that everything would be okay. That afternoon you had been playing around with your cousins. It was a normal day filled with laughter from the little moments of happiness you and your boy cousins enjoyed. That’s the family you had. Your parents had abandoned you when you were a little girl; your mother had a one nightstand in America before she was deported back to Cuba and so you never knew who your father was, and your mother abandoned you a couple of years after you were born. You were taken in by a kind family that consisted of a mom and seven sons, the father too had abandoned them to their fortune. They were relatives of your mother’s side of the family and you considered them your family. The men came out of nowhere and various screams filled the air. Two other girls you knew were grabbed and thrown into a dirty old truck. A man began approaching you and you began to ran away, but he catched up to you easily. When he grabbed you one of your cousins tried to help you escape, but he was thrown to the floor. He tried fighting and as soon as you were pushed into the truck with other 6 or 7 girls you heard a gunshot. You were crying loudly and your screams of pain, anguish, and fear filled the trailer you were locked into with other dozen girls. You were rebellious and didn’t care if you had to suffer to gain your freedom. You banged on the doors and kicked and screamed hoping that someone would hear you. You called them cowards for taking you in and away from your families. You swore at them for hurting your cousin. The men had enough of you and had beaten you until you lost conscience. You woke up feeling sore and could barely move. The other girls sobbed quietly and you began to get back up. “Donde estamos? (Where are we?)” You asked. “Nos transportaron en un barco, nos van a llevar a Florida. (We’ve been shipped into a boat. We’re headed to Florida.)” “Hemos estado aqui por dos dias ya. Pensamos que estabas muerta (We’ve been held captive for like two days now. We thought you were dead),” a girl you recognized as your neighbor said. She was Tita, your older cousin’s dream girl. ‘Malditos Desgraciados (cursed bastards)’ you cursed under your breath. You felt a sudden stop and heard a loud screech. The door had opened and a man holding a rifle appeared. You didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t look Cuban- he looked like a gringo. “Get out! Come on you *******, move it.” You didn’t understand, but glared at this devil. He looked at you. “You’ve been pretty beaten, now stop staring or I’ll make sure that you never ever see again!” You still didn’t understand and continued glaring at him with so much hatred. He snarled and hit you in the stomach with his rifle. He slapped you repeatedly cursing at you with words you had never heard before. You didn’t stop glaring though. You kept challenging him with your eyes. The other girls looked terrified and suddenly a gunshot was heard. Another man approached and you were shoved to the floor. You maintained your dignity and barely stood up until you were pushed on the floor again. “Mira mocosa si no quieres morir no causes problemas (Look kid, you don’t want to die, stop causing so much trouble).” “Matame hijo de puta. Que pierdes con dejarme morir? (Kill me you son of a *****. What do you have to loose?) You saw him smirk. The gringo asked what you had said and the other man translated. The gringo pulled his rifle and was about to shoot, but instead he slammed the gun at you head. You slowly began to close your eyes and felt your eyes sting as drops of sweat entered your eyes. You felt the warm blood travel from your forehead past you cheek and to the metal floor. Tears overflowed your eyes and made their way across you cheeks. You tasted the salty substances and let out a soft whimper. You prayed to god and thanked him for granting you the wish of freedom. You would die, but it was better than been enslaved by a foreigner. You heard a gun **** and shot.
You lived in one of the poorest parts of Cuba. Everyday crimes engulfed your neighborhood; people would be killed or kidnapped, homes were broken into, and people died of diseases and famine. No one wanted to be outside and hope dwindled upon the poor. For years young girls were sold (or taken away in some cases) by their parents or family members to human traffickers so they would be sold to rich U.S. men. You had heard of this before and had witnessed such acts as a little girl, you feared that that one day would come and you would be taken away. And that day had finally arrived. You had been captured by Cuban rebels and you along with other teenage girls would be shipped into the US to be sold to the best better. You were only 14 years old, but were familiar to the cruelties that the world had to offer. Your family didn’t live in peace, but still you managed to survive with a glint of hope in your eyes always having faith that everything would be okay. That afternoon you had been playing around with your cousins. It was a normal day filled with laughter from the little moments of happiness you and your boy cousins enjoyed. That’s the family you had. Your parents had abandoned you when you were a little girl; your mother had a one nightstand in America before she was deported back to Cuba and so you never knew who your father was, and your mother abandoned you a couple of years after you were born. You were taken in by a kind family that consisted of a mom and seven sons, the father too had abandoned them to their fortune. They were relatives of your mother’s side of the family and you considered them your family. The men came out of nowhere and various screams filled the air. Two other girls you knew were grabbed and thrown into a dirty old truck. A man began approaching you and you began to ran away, but he catched up to you easily. When he grabbed you one of your cousins tried to help you escape, but he was thrown to the floor. He tried fighting and as soon as you were pushed into the truck with other 6 or 7 girls you heard a gunshot. You were crying loudly and your screams of pain, anguish, and fear filled the trailer you were locked into with other dozen girls. You were rebellious and didn’t care if you had to suffer to gain your freedom. You banged on the doors and kicked and screamed hoping that someone would hear you. You called them cowards for taking you in and away from your families. You swore at them for hurting your cousin. The men had enough of you and had beaten you until you lost conscience. You woke up feeling sore and could barely move. The other girls sobbed quietly and you began to get back up. “Donde estamos? (Where are we?)” You asked. “Nos transportaron en un barco, nos van a llevar a Florida. (We’ve been shipped into a boat. We’re headed to Florida.)” “Hemos estado aqui por dos dias ya. Pensamos que estabas muerta (We’ve been held captive for like two days now. We thought you were dead),” a girl you recognized as your neighbor said. She was Tita, your older cousin’s dream girl. ‘Malditos Desgraciados (cursed bastards)’ you cursed under your breath. You felt a sudden stop and heard a loud screech. The door had opened and a man holding a rifle appeared. You didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t look Cuban- he looked like a gringo. “Get out! Come on you *******, move it.” You didn’t understand, but glared at this devil. He looked at you. “You’ve been pretty beaten, now stop staring or I’ll make sure that you never ever see again!” You still didn’t understand and continued glaring at him with so much hatred. He snarled and hit you in the stomach with his rifle. He slapped you repeatedly cursing at you with words you had never heard before. You didn’t stop glaring though. You kept challenging him with your eyes. The other girls looked terrified and suddenly a gunshot was heard. Another man approached and you were shoved to the floor. You maintained your dignity and barely stood up until you were pushed on the floor again. “Mira mocosa si no quieres morir no causes problemas (Look kid, you don’t want to die, stop causing so much trouble).” “Matame hijo de puta. Que pierdes con dejarme morir? (Kill me you son of a *****. What do you have to loose?) You saw him smirk. The gringo asked what you had said and the other man translated. The gringo pulled his rifle and was about to shoot, but instead he slammed the gun at you head. You slowly began to close your eyes and felt your eyes sting as drops of sweat entered your eyes. You felt the warm blood travel from your forehead past you cheek and to the metal floor. Tears overflowed your eyes and made their way across you cheeks. You tasted the salty substances and let out a soft whimper. You prayed to god and thanked him for granting you the wish of freedom. You would die, but it was better than been enslaved by a foreigner. You heard a gun **** and shot.
Your saw darkness. You narrowly opened your eyes and your pupils narrowed as you came into the sight of a bright white light. ‘Ya estoy muerta? (I’m dead?)’ You felt confused. If this was the holy light why did you feel a chill up your spine? You closed you eyes and felt a sharp pain on your chest. You shot your eyes open and let out a scream. You heard another scream and a clink.
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