Immigrant Creative Writing

My heart beeted louder and faster the further away we got from Santa Maria. Silence was the only noise that came. Besides the van's engine and graveling ground. In the mirror I saw Roberto. A blank expression. I was hoping to seek comfort from, but instead all little hope I had left just evaporated. Trying to keep my eyes from leaking, not letting the immigration officer see me cry i face toward the window. Fields and fields full of illegal people picking and working. I will never see papa, mama, torito, trampita, ruben and rorra again.

Hours has passed and we are still on the road. The sun was already setting behind the mounatins. Already we have passed dozens of rest signs but the immigration officer never stopped. Not until now atleast.

I can see him word out a silent thank you. Just like that, he managed to shake of the officers hands of of him and sprinted far away in such short time. Grunting and cursing the officer that once had the grip on the boy made his way towards the van. " call for back up, we will hit the fields that are close from here. " While the other officer repeated the order the grumpy officer turned around with dangerous eyes. I haven't really payed attention to either of the officers features since I was always trying to avoid eye contact. This officer had grey blonde hair, tight skin and a hawk nose. He is one scary man, yet he has a ring on his finger. " We will drop the migra at other fields. You thought you can play the hero, huh. Well thanks to your heroic act many of your kind will be deported back to

It was complete chaos. My people running in terror, mothers and fathers looking for their children, babies and small children crying. Then i saw the boy from before. He saw me to. I saw him sprint away. I wanted to shout out comeback to the boy. How could he just leave us locked inside this van when we helped him get away. In the background i hear Roberto begging someone from the outside to open the van since one of the officers left it on the door. Locked but could be opened from the outside. I will never see my family again. Do they miss me? Of course they do. Just as much as i miss them. Looking back at the window i saw a man that might be the same age as Papa. Not far behind him was the boy. Shouting back to Roberto who had become all stony face again, that we were going to get out of here. That stone face vanished instantly when the words rolled out of my tongue. As the man approached the van he was saying something but i couldn't make out the words he was saying. When the man opened the door we hurried out. "Gracias hijo. Thank you for helping my son. Now its your turn to go to your family. Que Dios te benidga." If i had the time i would hug him and thank him. I will be going home