This is my story:
I layed on the concrete for what seemed like hours... waking up only for the lack of breath. My view of the world was sideways. I pick my head off of the ground, putting weight on my elbow. It seemed like someone had poured a dark liquid on to the top of my head. Dripping slowly down my cheeks and infront of my eyes... I tried to stand, but sharp pains in my back decided for me. Looking around I saw nothing but people staring. Nothing but faces I did not know. Nothing but a world I did not know. Fear took over me as I began to weep. My head drooped and I noticed that my tears were creating red stains on the concrete. I began to feel this new world spinning as I heard his name.
Once again I saw it!... riding swiftly along in this newly discovered world!... I knew it was too fast to stop!... I knew that man would not either... And... My world turned black.
As this sequence encircled my mind, threatening to take it over... I heard his name once again. I tried to look around but the tightness of my neck was playing a cruel joke. I fought back by turning to my knees. It was good that I was already on them... the pain in my back would have brought me there anyways. My feet seemed to cry out with pain as pieces of concrete became lodged into gashes. A hole in my lip allows for more stains on the concrete. With the red water of life dripping from what seemed like every opening in my body... I saw Cris. He looked as if nothing was wrong except the absence of movement. There was not a drop of blood on him. The lifeless body of an unknown man stood in my way to Cris. I used every muscle to drag myself around this unknown man. I began to weep as I never knew I could... -Cris!- I sobbed... and cried -Cris talk to me... Cris!- But I did not and would not get a response.
-¿Donde esta su telefono?- a voice sharply rose above the mumbling of the crowd. I looked up to see a face I had never seen before. -¿Donde esta su telefono?- she repeated. The language suddenly flooded back to my mind. I reached into the pocket of his now tattered jeans and grabbed the cell phone that his aunt had borrowed to us. I handed it to her... along with my trust she would contact his family to come and help. -¿Que es el nombre?- The woman asked me... -Cris- I mumbled. -¿Quien puedo llamar?- she added after I gave her his name. -Glenda- I said. And that was all.
A man in a darkly colored uniform ran up to Cris. I watched this man as a little puppy would watch their master after having an accident. -Stop moving my leg!- I suddenly heard a voice shout! -Cris- I sobbed... as my heart skipped a beat. He was alive... just barely.
The man in the uniform placed a plastic stretcher near his body. He grabbed a man from the crowd and they lifted Cris onto the stretcher. This action did not go smoothly however as a scream was repelled out of his mouth. I began to sob harder then before.
-Where are you taking him! Where are you going!- I screamed through my tears. They placed Cris into the ambulance and closed the door. I began to drag my shattered body towards the ambulance, when two men began to help me to my feet. A cry anyone could recognize was released from my gut, and they knew I could not walk. One of the men grabbed me under the arms, and the other my legs. They placed me into the front seat of the ambulance.
-Cris- I sobbed. I turned my head to the best of my ability to see him... He was sobbing from the pain.
A hand touched my shoulder. The driver, with a somber face and concerned eyes, said -Tranquila-.
Tranquila! Tranquila! How could I be calm! Cris was crying as if he was being tourchered! Every jolt, every movement the ambulance made... another cry was released! His screams pierced my heart over and over.
Suddenly the world stopped moving. A dirty orange building with white trim was behind us. The driver backed slowly into the parking space. The man jumped out and opened the back door of the ambulance. Male workers suddenly bolted from the door of what I had realized, to my horror, was a hospital. They grabbed Cris... and the unknown man... who I also had just recogonized was with us. The men put Cris and the unknown man on stretchers and wheeled them through the rusty doors. As my view of him ceased, I noticed the faces. The faces staring at me through the back of the ambulance. Sad faces mixed with concerned ones. Faces worn from a lifetime of work. Their eyes were fixated onto mine.
The door opened next to where I was seated. Two men grabbed my legs and arms. They plopped me onto the same type of plastic stretcher as Cris. A sharp cry left my lips, a cry that no one seemed to hear. The men carried me through the rusty doors. However, not before I passed those faces. The faces changed from curiousity to horror, to almost say that I looked worse then Cris... but that was not possible.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark hallway, I concentrated on the ceiling. Dim light after dim light passed by as traffic would on a busy street at night. By this time my adrinaline had worn off, and nothing but pains filled my body. With every movement, with every turn, sharp pains would shoot across my back.
We passed through another rusty door. The men placed the stretcher and I onto a bed. Four people then put their hands under my body and lifted me onto another bed. My cries again went unnoticed.
-Stop moving my leg!- a sharp cry pierced the thick air. I slightly lifted my head and saw Cris. He was moving now... and talking, but to no one. Then a question came to my head -Why is he speaking in English?- The doctors did not leave me enough time to answer my own question.
Three masked faces entered my view as I plopped my head back onto the bed. One of them began to speak to me -¿Donde tiene dolor?- This was a new frase to me. -¿Que?- I said confused. She pointed her finger at my arm, where later I would discover a bruise the size of a softball, -¿Duele aqui?-. I shook my head no. She pointed to my head. -¿Duele aqui?. Again I shook my head no.
As she interrogated me, another nurse began to wipe my face with a damp cloth. -¿Duele aqui?- -No- -¿Duele aqui?- -No- The more she asked, the more fustrated I became. -¡Duele solo aqui!- I snapped, pointing towards my back. A concerned look grew on her face. She quickly walked away.
I tried to raise my head again to look for Cris, but the nurse cleaning my face pushed me back down. A man dressed in white joined the nurses in my view.
I peered over to my left and saw a needle being preped. -No quiero- I said beginning to cry again. Just as my cries before, that went unnoticed. Before I could react, the needle was pushed with force into my arm.
Suddenly, another needle appeared infront of my face. The doctor assured me in Spanish that it would only hurt a little bit. The needle was pushed gently into my forhead. Once, twice, three times... maybe more, but after the third time I could only feel pressure. The nurses through a blue sheet over my face.
Three minutes later, it was over. I had recieved four brand new stitches on the left side of my forhead. -Thats where all of that blood came from- I thought to myself.
-Stop touching my leg!- Cristian..s voice returned to cut the thick air. I lifted my head only to be stopped again. A nurse began moving me to the other side of the room.
Finally, I was able to lift my head, I saw Cris laying there. Crying out in pain, I noticed a familiar figure to his right. Negro, his uncle! And Glenda! Glenda walked towards me, -todo esta bien Sarah-. I tried to explain what happened, but the words in Spanish illuded me. -Cris necesita ir a Guate- she said somberly. -Quiero ir- I said hopeing to get a good answer, but that went unnoticed as well as another cry from Cris filled the room.
They were moving him. -Cris!- I screamed. -Cris stop moving! Calm down!- But he was in too much pain to hear me. And before another tear could hit my blood stained T-shirt, he was gone. His journey was one I would never want to experience. Two hours to Guatemala City by ambulance, speeding down a road not in a state to be sped on. Little did I know, I would not see him tomorrow... or the next day... or the next.
The look on my face informed Glenda that the doctors had not given me any pain medicine. She grabbed the nearest nurse and demanded that I needed some. A short male nurse brought over a needle and began to prep my right hand. I began to cry once more. -No mas!- I sobbed. The man tried three times to put a needle, more then two inches long into my hand, without success. Another nurse took over, and the needle finally made its way in. A female nurse soon brought a suringe with pain medicine. Through a tube attached to the needle, she injected it. As the liquid entered my vein... a burning sensation began to grow in my hand. It quickly migrated from my hand to my wrist, and from my wrist to my shoulder. I began to scream. My whole arm was on fire! I grabbed my arm and screamed again.-¿¡Porque duele!?- I cried. No one had an answer.
Once this attack on my arm began to dissappear, a second injection, this time of Penicillin, was next in line. The entire process repeated itself all over again, and would every time from then on when I recieved an injection after that.
Finally after the tourcher was complete, I looked up again and noticed the unknown man sitting up on a bed. He was throwing up. -¿El esta bien?- I asked Glenda. As small smile came to her face she said -Pobrecita, si el esta bien-. I layed my head back down. There was nothing I could do but let what was going to happen, happen.