Chupacabra | 18+ | ✔️

▪︎■ 35 ■▪︎

▪︎■ Ainara Moreno ■▪︎

▪︎■ 9 years ago ■▪︎

The room was old and shabby- if you could even call it a room, for that matter. More like a warehouse with little seperated spaces whose "walls" were dilapidated grid walls. Like an animal shelter with open, unlocked cages. We were treated the exact same; like animals, like a resource. I still couldn't believe they called this inhuman thing a home. The whole place was filled with rats and bugs and the air was humid from the heat that crept inside from the ruthless colombian sun. Dozens of old matresses were distributed all over the floor and they looked like you could have caught a solid handful of deseases by sleeping on them.

The open doors brought the illusion of freedom, that we all could come and go to our liking. We couldn't. We were prisoners- slaves.
I've had worked for Gutiérrez since the day my father died and I would be turning fourteen in a few hours. A bitter thought in the back of my head.

Said thoughts were interrupted by a door that opened with a crack. I turned my head from the dirty mattress I sat on to the entrance and noticed two men with guns and a girl. They roughly dragged her through the room- with their hands around her upper arm. She was barefoot, looked as shabby as the hall. Her eyes were dead, seemed to have lost their spark and focus. She looked like she was far away, crazy, manic, like an empty human shell. I knew this look. A mixture of trauma and a lack of drugs in her system.

I guessed her to be around my age. No day older than sixteen for sure. Her hair was ruffled and the little piece of fabric she was wearing was pulled up to her upper thigh. I didn't miss the bruises on her skin and the sweat on her forehead, like she fought but lost nevertheless.

They roughly slammed her onto a table a few steps next to me. I prayed they would ignore me and that they would please, please let their anger be felt by another person. I hated myself for it. My hatred may have been immense towards the men that lived off of this human trafficing and who created the circumstances that let such apathetic thoughts bloom inside of me, but I hated myself a little more than them for backing down and letting them win through me and this resulting attitude. It wasn't fair how they played with us, made us obedient. There really was no way out- no way to win.