Darkness Knocked On My Door | Teen Ink

Darkness Knocked On My Door

July 17, 2019
By Natalie-Goldwasser BRONZE, La Jolla, California
Natalie-Goldwasser BRONZE, La Jolla, California
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

    I heard them before I saw them. The alarms were blazing from a distance. Then the storm of knocking on my door. I didn't open it. I stood still hiding in the shadows. The knocking got louder. I was sure they would break my door. Then came the screams. I blocked them out. All I heard were muffled shouts with anger ringing in their voices. I tiptoed to the door. I grabbed the handle with closed eyes, and turned it. I tried to open the door slowly, but they were much stronger than my thin arms. There were three of them, guns on their belts, police badges on their chests, and short buzzed hair. Before I could speak, he pulled me by my wrist. I tried to fight back, but that only made it worse. The taller man grabbed my free wrist and pulled it behind my back. Next thing I knew, I had icy shackles clinging to my wrists. My face was filled with confusion, what had I done? I hadn’t killed anyone, I hadn’t broken any laws. 

    “Where are your documents?” the short officer asked. 

    Then I remembered the news I had watched, the stories I had heard, the tears I shed. The nightmare that had kept me awake on dark nights, hiding under my blankets, was no longer only a nightmare. I slipped my papers out of my pocket, the ones I carried with me every second, every minute, every hour. They had become a part of me. I handed them to the officer, and without even looking at them, the officer said the words that would haunt me for the rest of my life, “You are being deported.”

    I felt like I was punched in the gut, all the air sucked out of my lungs. Lifeless, I walked to the car. I looked at my home one last time as I drove away. I was torn away from my friends, my family, my home. Everything I had ever known disappeared right before my eyes. I would be taken a place where I would be an alien. I didn't know Mexico, I didn’t know the language, I didn't know the people. My shield was destroyed, my DACA documents no longer protected me. They became my enemy. My tears soaked my shirt as I waited, powerless, to see what my future would be.


The author's comments:

 I belive wirting is a very powerful tool, so I write in order to bring awarness to current issues. 


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