Robert Morales, Grade 12
and closer, and-- AHHHHH! THEY’VE STABBED ME! THEY’RE CUTTING A PART OF MY HEAD OFF!They were going around in a circle. I cried and screamed for help, but these sounds of suffering meant nothing. Each shriek created no change in anyone or anything. No one could help me. I had never experienced that type of pain before. They were driving it through, slashing it up and down against me. Then an even more frightful feeling filled me: Was this was why my friends never came back home?
Tears covered my face as they abruptly pulled off a piece of my flesh. They were emotionless as they do this. My guts were out in the open as they put the tool down. I prayed to the gods of sun, water and soil that my anguish would end. I pleaded with everything that was left in me that the excruciating pain would stop, but that was exactly the opposite of what happened. Things got even worse when they pull out another tool and started to carve out and remove my insides. Everything that filled me up was bluntly torn out and placed aside.
I was filled with a terrible dread that I wouldn't been able to see my friends and family ever again. I fear that the agony I felt then may have been the last thing I would ever experienced. I traced the memories of my home. I held onto the moments where I sat back and enjoyed the generous shining sun above me, of the bountiful ground below me, and of the rich water that fell from the sky.
They finished their second step and took my guts to another room. They spent a while there, and I heard the voices of others. I hear someone new ask if they could “watch.” And I guess the response must’ve been yes because when my torturer returned, they brought a friend along with them. The person pulled another tool out of their stack and began to carve into my skin, into my face specifically. I felt like my eyes were being gouged out, my teeth ripped out, my nose cut off, and so much more. The new, smaller person watches in awe. "what kind of person watches with excitement and curiosity when it comes to another’s murder," I pondered with mixed emotions, "What kind of place is this?!" They sculpted me more and more, the pale inner layer of my skin was revealed. They tried to create shapes and figures with curves and lines and gaps in my face. Through their merciless cuts
I remembered, at that moment, my journey into the real of the others.