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The girl from Guantanamo bay

I was born durning my mothers first interaction in Guantanamo I was able to sense that she was being raped and beaten during my birth, which was ironically October 31frst 2002. So I delayed everything until I sensed the man was of over her and that she was getting help.   My mother woke to me in her arms in the infirmary when she saw me she was over come with both joy and sadness.  Joy that I was alive by put sadness that I too would be harmed durning my life and naught able to read nor write. 
Her first words to me was "inshallah, I will protect you, by Allah."
I held her finger.
No soon after the birth that my mom and got tortured together.  She was crying when they starved me and devprived me of my needs and wants they gave and my mother cold baths and showers.  She was bagging them to stop and to kill her but no me, for I had done nothing wrong but be born.  Being born in Guantanamo was like being or in a morgue or butchers shop being force to live there.  It was horrific.  With al the torture and torment my mom and I went through together in the same interrogation room and was the same room.  We beasically lived there for most of our lives. 
When she notices and age 4 that I had the stare of Satan and the speeding capabilities of of a one year old she was frightened that this life was causing me so distress she could comprehend. 
When I first talked at five I could only speak simple sentences until I was 8.  Even at that I was slow mentally from the constant pain and torture inflicted.  When I was able to speak more clear at eight I was seen by the prison doctor, who has that I was under developed and severely under weight.   With this info my mother would steel food from other prisoners who were not to happy to keep me alive.  
That was when I to was raped by a young man named buck from the CIA.    He kept bullying my hair and raping me until I said where bin Laden was.  When I said no the abuse continued.
He forcefully killed me and started doing other thing a grown man shouldn't do to a girl.  I scream and cried but my mom was restrained to the wall only able to watch in abject horror.
He turned a rounded and threatened her with her being glued to the wall.
She begged him to show compassion but he wouldn't.  
"I fuck and eat terrorists for a living and for meals," he said.  What the hell was he saying.  
That was when he forced my mother who she got here and who was my father. 
Sobbing she she said "I was brought here because I had ties with al qaeda which was out of this world, and that my father was buck.

When I turned thirteen exactly thirteen I was forced to marry buck and for my mother to leave me.    I was so enraged at my mother for allotting this to happen, I was not Able to have a crush on a boy yet nor did I have capacity  to do so.  During the quote ceremony he beat me and called me the world retard.  He said that I was al his and that my mother was being glued on the wall of our home as we speak.  The demented rage in his eyes, match that of having my mother let this happen.  I screamed "I hope she does die."
On the quote wedding night he chained me to the bed and said he had control over everything: what and how much I ate, how often he was to rape me, and how often I breathed.   If I broke a single rule he would cut and rip into my skin particularly the face if he wanted to.  He said that Muslims are ugly and should be deformed. There he should me his hunting knife.   Every night for the past night he cute my body and face with the knife, nearly beheading me at one point, he had the doctor to come to treated me so I could still be his play thing.  I looked at the doctor pleading with her to take me to safety.
I want a superficial waund on my temple,and deep festering gash on my left cheek and the skin of my right jaw line hanging and bleeding.  I did dare look at my belly and chest, but I knew this I was getting sick in the morning and stop for the rest of the day.   I was developing a belly and I could help but look at the gashes on my stomach and chest.   He then once at the end of the month tried to hurt me in such a way that made all there others seem painless. He walked into the bed room with a box cutter and symbolically rape me with it.   I slipped one hand out of my chains and I punched him so bad as I could . He was out cold and I took the box cutter and  slit his throat deeply  and made my way weakly out. I was blood soaked with my blood and the blood of buck and walking araoung the prison in a half daze and half psychosis. They said I was the girl who wandered the base from prison camp to prison camp
Killing each of the guards  one by one, hoping to get to my mother before it was too late. 
When I went to the usuall interrogation room that we were housed in I saw her lifeless body glued in a gruesome position.   That was the time I knew I lost the most important portent of my life and my only support system.  I curled up at her feat and dry cried for hours.   I knew what I had to do for I couldn't live with out my mom.

I was going to pray to Allah forgiveness for what I did and what I was ultimately going to do: kill my self.   I ran into a bush leaving a trail of blood  faced Mecca and said my finally prayers.   After that I took the box cutter and killed my self.   
What I was either expecting was that I would be reunited with my mother or I was going to feel the flames of hell for killing myself. 
But instead I was still on this planet, thought I was in grave danger until I looked down and saw my lifeless body facing east.  I went to do a reality check and found that I was see through white, and could walk through things.   I was a ghost.  Neither in heaven or in the fire. 
I screamed for the fire to come and ingulf me but it did I was screaming so loud that if you heard my screaming you would die instantly.  
I think what I become was a banshee, an Irish demonic entity I heard of on tv, and my mother reading to me.   So I screamed every time I saw someone guard or other wise come to find my body.  For I didn't not want it to be found because the autopsy would just remind me of my rotten life.  But one person , a prisoner who was an imam found my body and gave the best burial in a sucluded grave next to the fence.  
But I still haunted the area of my grave.  I was screaming day and night if someone came to the fence and try and find it.  Why would I protect something that gave me such misery and pain, because if I saw unearthed I would be filled with more dread that buck or his friends would find it and do horrible things to it.  
In the day you never saw me  until you were right on my gravesite.  Then you get chills before dying.  At nine if you saw me you I would here your footsteps and blast a life threatening scream. 

The sad part was that my mother was a American Muslim journalist who was caught by the CIA and taken from abu grhaib to Guantanamo where she need she was pregnant with me and that that would be her final place.  The hardships this young woman when through to keep keep me alive and for what so I could be someone's garage and toy.  It hurt me so much.  If she had her choice she would have stayed a house wife if she now of my conception and what would happen to her and I.  
Soon the screaming being mournful sobs and weeping that could be heard a lover the American naval base, and in Cuban territory around it.  The locals called me the girl in Guantanamo bay, the Americans called me an nascence.  As I reconstructed my horrid life in Guantanamo bay, I was know the way the Cubans call the girl in Guantanamo.
I will never be known as Yazminea but as a demonic being in Cuban and post 9/11 folklore. 
I am one of the csts that parents pay during war no matter the side.