A Girl from Orosi

Graciela

"Whatever plans you have for me please, God, just don't let me die in this little town."

I was born seventeen years ago in Orosi, a tiny town in the middle of California. Half the population are illegal migrant workers, including my parents. About ten thousand people live in this town. The nearest city is Visalia, with a population of 130,000 people. 

My parents came from Durango, a northern state in Mexico. They've been farm workers all their lives. My mom works as hard as my dad. Sometimes, I join them in the fields, and believe me, it's not easy to keep up with them.

I know the world is too big to remain in a little town for the rest of my life. Nothing remarkable has happened in my short life. I hope to change that one day. I'm not planning to have a boyfriend because I don’t want to be attached to Orosi for too long. I’m still a virgin and I’m just fine with that. I'm in no hurry to ruin my life.

I’ve been begging my mom to register me in a Visalia school for the last two years, and before I started high school she finally agreed. One of my dreams is to move to L.A. or even better, to New York. Eventually, I will accomplish my goals. I hope. 

My current goal is to be the best in my track and field team, I know  a scholarship can get me out of here. My dad enrolled me in a soccer team when I was eight years old, that could also get me out of this hopeless town. I don’t hate my life, I just dislike my present options. I love my family and friends but the lack of opportunities in the area makes my future bleak and narrow. Sometimes I feel claustrophobic and bored.  

The bus takes twenty minutes to get to Visalia. It comes every two hours. Even though Orosi High School is only a few blocks from where I live, I'll be attending Redwood High School in Visalia.

My friends say I’m pretty, and I'd like to think they’re not lying. They also say I have a nice pair of legs, but in my opinion, they're a bit muscular. A few boys keep chasing me, but I’m not interested. Sometimes dogs chase me too, but so far I’ve run faster than them. One of them almost bit my rear end, but then I turned around and shouted at the top of my lungs. I swear he skidded for at least ten feet while trying to pull back. It was funny.

I play soccer with the boys in the park, sometimes they don’t play rough because they think I’m a weak girl, but once they notice I can play, they go back to their rough playing. 

I enjoy riding the bus. I love feeling the air in my hair while doing my homework. I organize my thoughts on the bus and most of the time, I dream my dreams and imagine my future while riding the bus. Sometimes, I feel romantic, and I daydream that I am on a streetcar in San Francisco, where I meet my Romeo, and . . . oh well.  

Hector

I have to do it. I’m fifty feet above the ground, looks real scary but I know I have to do it.

The judge gave me twelve years. I’ll be 35 when I come out. On top of that, I’ll be deported to Mexico after I’ve done my time. I’m contemplating my only way out, my only escape. It doesn’t seem easy. There’s a palm tree, taller than the building. I need to make a long jump and if I don’t grab that tree after I jump an awful death awaits me, but if I stay and don’t jump, I would spend a long and sorrowful time behind these bars.

I was seven years old when my parents came illegally to this country. My dad found a job as a gardener, while mom began to take care of kids from the neighborhhod.

At school, I was always in trouble. I was a bully in every grade, I was taller than the rest of the kids; even the teachers were afraid of me. When I was twelve years old I started touching every girl that got close to me. I used to lift their skirts or grab their breasts. Most of them didn’t complain, they were probably afraid I'd become more aggressive. By the time I turned thirteen I was masturbating several times a day.

Around that time, I had constant thoughts about naked girls, naked women. Sex was always on my mind. At fourteen, I had sex for the first time with a sixteen-year-old neighbor. The older I got the more sex I wanted. 

When I was sixteen I raped my eighteen-year-old cousin. She didn’t say a thing to anybody because, I guess, she enjoyed it too. I raped one of my aunts too. I still have sex with her whenever I want, even though she's married.  

Some of my victims didn’t get too upset about it, others just disappeared from my sight. I knew there was something wrong with me, but since I wasn't getting in trouble I kept doing it. But I was never violent. Well, not yet anyway.

If any of them were insistent enough, I would stop. But it was weird how some of them switched their attitude in the middle of it, from hating it to loving it. You might find this hard to believe, but some of them returned for more. If the first time they didn’t have an orgasm because I was too fast or too rough, they knew they would get a second or a third chance. 

People can say what they want but I know some of the girls I raped enjoyed it too. I know I shouldn't glorify rapists, but two of my victims mentioned that being raped had been one of their sexual fantasies.

When I was first accused of rape, the judge cleared me of all charges for lack of evidence. The girl didn't have any bruises and there were no witnesses. The next time, I was caught in the act, I ignored her cries and kept insisting until the cops showed up. That time, the judge gave me a six-month sentence, a restraining order, and three years probation. I was twenty years old by then.

For a while, I behaved properly and stayed out of trouble. I was almost done with the probation period when a young lady moved near my house. I was tempted to sin with that woman in the most horrendous way. She was married and had a child. After spying on her for a week, I figured her entire routine. The time she left home, the time she came back and the time her husband left for work. She was so hot, I really had to do it.

She lived in an apartment building, behind her unit was a small patio with a six-foot fence. Across the driveway, two workers were fixing another apartment.

The worst mistake I made was not covering my face. But when I'm horny my brains don't function at all. It was obvious she would recognize me, since I lived so near.

One morning, as soon as her husband left, I made my move. 

The fence was easy to jump, the sliding door was unlocked. She was sleeping topless, the sheets were on the floor. She looked beautiful in her black panties. Her kid was asleep in a crib across the room.

I had never been so excited. I had an immediate erection. In an instant, I had the pants on my knees. I covered her mouth and removed her panties at the same time, but the moment I touched her, she woke up and kicked me in the chest extremely hard. I wasn't ready for that reaction. I was still in shock when I fell on my back, her screams were deafening, the kid started to cry and I panicked. I wasn’t expecting such a commotion. I got up and ran out to the patio and shut the door behind me. Amazingly, her screams were barely audible outside. The workers saw me jumping the fence but they didn't say a thing. 

What a pathetic pussy I turned out to be, running out like a coward. But later, in my prison cell, while reenacting my failed attempt, I was convinced that I would have had to strangle that lady and her kid to obtain my five minutes of pleasure.

That afternoon when I came back to my house the cops were waiting for me in an unmarked car. There was no need to resist or to claim innocence.

The judge sent me to a county jail, where I was told I'd be transferred two days later to a federal prison. My temporary jail was on the top floor of a four-story high building. 

From the roof, I was contemplating the two choices I had. My freedom or my death. I knew I could never find a better chance to escape than that moment. It was getting dark and the rest of the inmates had gone back to their cells. The guards had gone too. They probably thought that an escape from there would have been impossible. There were two palm trees next to the building, I was considering the skinny one, the other one was too wide.

I began to run from one end of the basketball court. I picked up speed in the middle of it because I had to jump over a four-foot metal railing. While flying in the air, I thought I'd taken a stupid decision. I was fifty feet above the ground when my heart stopped beating . . .

After my body hit the tree I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. I remained immobile for an instant.  

I could see the freeway down below. I was holding to the dark side of the tree; I caught my breath and started to climb down. Except for a solid pain in my chest and a few scratches I was okay. As soon as I touched the ground I got rid of my shirt. On the back, it read . . .  "Property of The Tulare County Jail". Well, I’m not your property any more fuckers! 

I walked away from the bright street lights and headed for the Saint John’s River, where the homeless people gathered under the bridge. I could spend the night with them, and probably get a change of clothes. Maybe they could offer me a drink that I was sure I highly deserved for my daring ‘impossible’ escape.

Graciela

                                                        

I enjoy watching from the bus the hustle and bustle of people on their way to work. I know most of them work in the fields, most of them come from Mexico, and most of them seem happy. Not much to do in this town where even the bus ride seems like fun. Hiking in the Sequoia Mountains is another thing that I enjoy very much.

There's a tree I like a lot, near Avenue 336. They trim it every year, but only from the highway side. They shave it to avoid the branches to make contact with the electrical wires. I guess, because the branches carry water and if they touch the cables they can cause an electrical outage. It looks like the tree is afraid of the wires, and it grows away from them, it is ugly and beautiful at the same time. 

Out of town people always complain from the smells around the area, the cows, the manure, fertilizers, recycled irrigating water, even the city dump. I always defend my city and deny it all. But I know they're right.    

At school, I get along with everybody. My favorite teacher is Miss Nunez, my Art class teacher. I consider her my friend, she's patient and caring. Life is slow and peaceful. A little boring is what I mean to say. I was born here, and I had no choice over that, but I just don’t want to die here.  

I have big plans for my future. I’d like to have at least two different careers; I want to be a writer and maybe a doctor in medicine or something like that. I know it’s not that hard, I just know it.

To go back to my house I have to take two buses, one from school, at the edge of town and another one that goes straight to Orosi on road 63. After waiting for ten minutes at the bus stop I decided to get a soda from the liquor store across the street. On my way back, I watched with resignation the bus passing by. Darn! Now I have to wait for two more hours.

I’m tempted to hitch a ride, but I don’t like the idea very much because there’s a lot of weirdos in this town. One time I got a ride from an old man. He seemed to be a decent family man, but when he offered me a hundred dollars for a ‘good time’, I got out of his car at the first stop sign without saying a word.

Hector

                                                          

My plan is to hit the road as soon as possible, I need to go to another state, Nevada is my first choice. Hitchhiking or taking the Greyhound bus in Visalia was out of the question. I need a car to go north to Fresno or south to Bakersfield. Visalia is going to be a hot spot for the next few days. 

If they catch me, I'd be facing at least twenty years. That's too long for an attempted rape. I don't even want to think about it. All I know is that I'm too horny right now, but tomorrow I'll find some pussy, that's for sure.

There were about a dozen people under the bridge. An old pickup truck was parked at the edge of the road, finding the owner was my main priority. With a twenty dollar bill in hand, I told them I needed a ride to the liquor store to get some wine. A guy stood up and said, "I'll take you buddy, but you drive, I'm a little fucked up already."

Around midnight, we made another trip to the liquor store, but this time, when we came back I kept the keys. It wasn't too complicated. Now I just need to wait for them to fall asleep.

 

Graciela

Frustrated, I decided to ask for a ride. Right away, a young guy in a pickup truck pulled over and I asked him if he could take me to Orosi, and he said, “Yeah, get in, I’m going that way.”

I knew immediately that I had made a big mistake when he put a screwdriver against my ribs and said, "We're going for a ride, and you better enjoy it."

Damn! It's unbelievable how fast things can change. I thought that if I got out alive I was never going to make another stupid mistake like that. I was scared to death, but I was determined to survive whatever was coming my way. But I knew that whatever his intentions were, I would never allow him to rape me or kill me.  

As the truck picked up speed, I saw my chances disappearing. 

There was an old gas station at the corner of Avenue 328. After that, there was nothing but an empty road for the next ten miles. If we went past that gas station my chances to escape would be minimal. 

My plan was to provoke an accident. I could die too, but I had to risk it. I was in great danger anyway. So, I went for it with lightning speed.

First, I pushed the button to unlock his seat belt and grabbed the hand that held the screwdriver. Then I turned the wheel toward the gas station, and then I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. 

The entire action must have taken all but three seconds.

When I opened my eyes, the windshield was broken and the driver's seat was empty. My astonishment increased when I saw him all twisted and mangled next to the gas pump. He couldn't be alive. We crashed into another vehicle, but nobody else got hurt. I came out unscathed, unharmed, and very happy to be alive.

 

Graciela

Frustrated, I decided to ask for a ride. Right away, a young guy in a pickup truck pulled over and I asked him if he could take me to Orosi, and he said, "Yeah, get in, I'm going that way."          

“There's a lot of crime in the area, you shouldn’t be asking for rides, it’s not safe,” he said as I entered the vehicle.

“Yes, I know, but I don’t want to be waiting for the bus for two more hours, it’s boring,” I replied. He appeared to be in his early twenties; his hair was tangled, disheveled and a little dirty, he probably had just gotten out of work or out of bed.

“Well, we can have a little fun before I take you home." he said.

“No, I need to pick up my little brother from school and I need to do my homework,” I said, but he kept driving.

"No, no, I said we're going to have some fun. I'm not giving you any options," he said, as he pulled a screwdriver, and pushed it against my ribs.

I couldn’t see a stop sign or a stop light anywhere near, so I could jump out of the vehicle like I did with the old man. We were about twelve miles from Orosi. And not a soul insight.

“No, I want to get out, please stop,” I said, as we approached a dairy farm. It would have been useless to scream, the area was deserted. After he passed the farm, he made a right turn on a dirt road. Then he stopped the truck behind several trees. 

He grabbed me by the hair while pulling me out of the truck. And as he held the screwdriver on his right hand, he added, “I said we're going to have some fun," then he pushed me to the ground, still pulling my hair. As I lay there, he climbed over me, and said,  “My name’s Hector, what’s yours, baby?”

I needed to escape, and the only way to do that was an out of body experience. So, I transported my body to another area, to a place I loved . . . I found myself hiking up along the stream in the Sequoia Mountains, where I was admiring the centuries-old beautiful trees . . . ouch! I just felt a stinging pain at the center of my body . . .  now, I'm walking in the middle of the shallow river, looking up, to where the trees connect to the sky. It appears that all trees point to heaven, the place where I should be.

When I returned, I inspected my 'unintentionally' abandoned body. I found it complete, and except for a little blood on my private parts and some pain, I was 'unharmed'. 

As I reached the main road, I began to think about Miss Nunez, because I needed to ask her for a favor. I’ve heard about a pill you can take the following day after you had sex to avoid pregnancy. She's my favorite teacher, but this time I'll talk to her as a friend.

                                              Graciela

Frustrated, I decided to ask for a ride. Right away, a young guy in a 
pickup truck pulled over and I asked him if he could take me to Orosi, and he said, "Yeah, get in, I'm going that way."                                          
“Hi, how you doing, my name’s Hector, what’s yours?” he asked.

“I’m doing fine, my name’s Graciela.” he looked a little dirty but he seemed to be a decent person. 

“I’m from out of town, just passing by, but I can stay if you show me around. You know, we can have a good time,” he said.

I had a strange feeling about that. “No, thanks, but I have to go home, now if you stop at the next light I’ll be fine,” I answered trying to sound casual, but I was very nervous indeed.

“I don’t think so," he replied, "I said we're going to have a good time, and we will,” he was doing fifty miles an hour.  

There was a stop light up ahead, and I was hoping it would turn red by the time we got there, so I could jump out. But the damn light remained green for an eternity. Then, all I saw ahead of us was an empty and desolated road. I knew I was in deep trouble. And I didn't deserve any of it.

“Okay, Graciela, today’s your lucky day, we’re going to have sex. You can enjoy or you can suffer, it’s up to you. I would recommend you to enjoy it, but if you don't, it makes no difference to me.” he said, while slowly getting his hand between my legs.

My body began to tremble. I was confused and mad at myself, I wished it was tomorrow already, so I could forget about today. How can I be so dumb? My fists were tight and my knuckles white, I felt so helpless and vulnerable. 


“You don’t look like a bad guy, just pull over and let me out please, I beg you,” I said while trying to hold my tears.

He turned on a dirt road and went to a shed behind an abandoned house. Then, he dragged me to the shed and told me to take off my clothes, threatening me with a screwdriver on his right hand.
 

I suddenly remembered about a rape case I heard on the news. The victim faked enjoying the whole episode, and when the rapist finished he gave her his phone number, so she could call him any time for more sex. But she called the cops instead, and they got him. I considered doing the same thing but I couldn't give him that satisfaction.

I thought I would ignore him instead. I would just remain immobile down there on the ground like a log. I wouldn't show any emotions. I just didn't want to get hurt or get killed.

We were naked on the ground. I was on my back. He was holding me between his legs. That's not how I planned to lose my virginity. After he finished, he turned me around and did it again, then again and again. Then he rolled me over, like a sack of potatoes, and said, “You bitch, say something. Scream, hit me, cry or do something you stupid bitch!” then he said, “I think you deserve to die.”  

And then, he lifted the screwdriver with both hands above his head and in a blink of an eye, and with tremendous force, he inserted the screwdriver on my chest. The last sound I heard was . . .  ‘thump’. 

I felt my soul escaping my body. I could see myself lying there with the screwdriver on my chest. I could only see the handle protruding from my breast. I thought about my mom, about my dad, and about my unfulfilled dreams and my future. It was all cut off abruptly and without a warning. It all belonged to the past now.

How could you do that God? I only asked you for a little favor, "I don’t want to die in this miserable town," It was a simple favor, easy for you to concede. Why did you allow this horrible ending, Why? 

       Graciela
         

Frustrated, I decided to ask for a ride. Right away, a middle-aged man in a pickup truck pulled over. Oh shit, it's my dad! I'm in real trouble now.

“Graciela! What are you doing asking for a ride? I can’t believe it. Don’t you know how dangerous it is?” he said in a very alarming voice.

“It’s not dangerous dad; it’s daytime, there’s a lot of people around,” I replied trying to minimize the gravity of the situation.

“No, Graciela, I would die if something bad happens to you. You have to promise me you'll never do it again.”

“Yes, dad, I promise,” I responded sincerely. And as I got in the truck I kissed him on the cheek. “I promise you, daddy,” I repeated and kissed him again.

Edmundo Barraza 

Visalia Ca. 11-17-2010.   

http://edbar1952-accomplishedignorant.blogspot.com/