no pull, no give with this dress. It's short, boxy, and extremely uncomfortable.
Four men appear behind him, and he barks at us, "Out. Vàmanos." He waves his hand impatiently, and we all scramble in fear. The men snap into action, each grabbing one of us in a tight grip.
I can see better out here, and I watch as vans move about, men with huge guns strapped around their shoulders barking orders at the next guy. Fuck, there are so many guns.
Up ahead of me, I see a huge gate like wall, and I swallow as I realize what it is.
That's the wall.
Mexico is only yards away.
I look over my shoulder. Come on, Jackson. Where are you?
"¿Qué diablos estás haciendo? We don't have all day. Move!" One of them slaps one of the girl's asses, and then they all start laughing, joking around and slapping our asses. They speak Spanish again and I can only imagine the vile, disgusting things they’re saying about us.
Every time a palm connects with my backside, I cringe. Curl a little further into myself. We all move faster, hoping to get away from their hands and disgusting laughter.
The closer we get to the wall, the less hope I have that I'll be saved. That any of us will be saved.
In the distance, it looks like there's some man-made tunnel, and I imagine the claustrophobia I'll feel if I have to make my way through that. How far down does it go?
My knees shake and a light sweat breaks out along my temples in the hot, dry night. I watch as men walk in and out of the door that leads to the tunnel, moving quickly and quietly.
We're hauled to a stop once we get close to the tunnel. "You will walk through there quietly. You will not cause any problems. You will not fight, and you will not run. You try funny business?" He slips a gun out of the back of his jeans, cocking it and pressing it to my temple. "I'll make sure we have to swim through your brains to get to the other side."
The hot air instantly turns cold as the metal digs into my temple. I wince and whimper. I shake as my eyes fill up with tears.
I'm not supposed to die today. I have a little boy waiting for me.
"Sí?" He digs the gun deeper into my temple, and I raise my shaky hands into the air.
"Please, please. Yes, I understand." I let loose a broken sob. "Please don't shoot me. Please."
He chuckles, pulling the gun back and slipping it back in his pocket. "Patética."
He starts walking forward, and the four men with his start pulling us forward. Dread makes my limbs heavy. It feels like I'm filled with water as I take each step, unease and horror weighing me down.
Once we reach the tunnel, the man turns and makes sure we're all there before turning around and descending down the makeshift stairs.
The man with the older girl descends down the stairs. She looks over her shoulder, the light leaving her eyes. I'm guessing for the last time.
The young girl is next. She starts crying as the guy walks over to the stairs, fear nearly locking her legs up. She can barely move and the guy that has ahold of her starts to drag her, mumbling in Spanish.
Just as he's about to descend down the stairs, I hear a whip of wind. I look behind me and hear a gurgle. Something falls. Glancing in front of me, the man that was pulling her down is now on the ground, his hand pressed to his neck with blood pooling around it.
The young girl starts screaming, screaming for her life.
Then it's complete chaos.
"Pistola! Le dispararon! Le dispararon!" Someone starts yelling behind me, and I'm shoved to the ground. Daniella falls beside me. The young girl is still screaming, and I hear some grunting from the tunnel peak his head out, snaking his hand out to grab onto the girl's ankle. He gives a rough pull, and the girl snaps onto her back, instantly knocked out. He drags her down the stairs, and I listen as the boom, boom of her body hits every stair.
Tremors rack my body as the men point their guns around. Gunshots fire, and I slam my hand over my head. I want to dig into the sand like a dog, getting far, far away from this place.
"Let's go!" The man starts pulling Daniella, and I whip forward and