Mexican Hooker #1 by Carmen Aguirre

Author:Carmen Aguirre [Aguirre, Carmen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-345-81386-2
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2016-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

As Macarena and I stood suspended on that trail, I remembered the history behind her “Is this a joke?”

“No. This is not a joke,” I whispered back, for by that time I had had enough experience with men with guns to know that this was a real live man with an actual working gun.

“Hands on your head. Turn around. Now,” he ordered again, the tightness in his voice now betraying a hint of urgency.

The Terror was beyond any I had experienced, for I was hit with the certainty that this time I would not escape bodily harm, that there were only a limited number of occasions that one could be tyrannized by men with guns and escape intact. I imagined a savage beating and then a shot to the head. Rape did not cross my mind, because rape happened to other people. Or did it?

Swallowing hard, I thought of my wraparound skirt hugging my hips, my fully developed body—the body of a woman, not a girl. I grappled with what the Rape Relief women had said: it doesn’t matter what you wear. But surely it did. Surely my clothes had lured this man into the woods with us. Macarena, deer in the headlights, stood frozen, eyes on mine.

There was nothing we could do. He was placed between the entrance to the trail and us. If we ran in the other direction, towards the bus stop, he would catch us. A quick tally of the situation told me that trying to pound on him would get us killed. Resistance was out of the question. I made note again of why I believed in arming the oppressed. He had all the power precisely because he had a gun and we didn’t. Given our circumstances, obedience was the only option. If we bowed our heads and did everything he asked, we might make it out alive.

So I said to Macarena, “Put your hands on your head,” and pulled her towards me.

I turned around, placed her in front of me with her back to me, and crossed my hands on the top of my head, as I’d seen my best friend Jana’s father and older brother do on the day of the raid. It hit me that Macarena had no idea what lay behind her. She didn’t know that the voice was disembodied, faceless. There was the sound of running and within a moment the barrel of a gun at the base of my skull. He grabbed the back of my blouse, bunching the cloth in his fist.

Kicking my calves, he ordered, “Put your hands on her shoulders and walk. If either of you turn around, I’ll shoot. You!” he growled at Macarena through clenched teeth. “Walk! I have the gun to your sister’s head and I’ll shoot her if you don’t walk. Off the trail, into the bush. Now.”

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