Maria's story could be the tragic tale of any family caught up in the war on drugs, gangs and violence.
Caution; This story contains some sex scenarios involving non-consent, violence and force.
Maria's Journey has been a long time in development. I have received creative advice and editing help from a number of fine editors. I would like to thank Chugaviagra, moon_dancer69, Tristessa Howard, Candace Frazier, Silver Star 88, Salvosa, and Manderinandbasil for their help. This was a long project with many issues and it was with their help that this project was finally finished. If I have left someone out, my apologies, please send me a PM and I will include you. The individual names and editor's user names were beginning to get difficult to keep straight.
*
Chapter 1
The Honduran city of San Pedro Sula is the city of my birth. My beloved grandparents would cry for what has taken place here. I am thankful they never lived to see that what was once a lush, peaceful city has now turned into a violent, gang-infested nightmare.
I will only use my given name Maria, for I am ashamed of many of the things I have done in my short life. The slum that I have grown up in has been taken over by a local gang. Barrio-18 rules this entire region. At first, they just controlled the drug trade, so if you avoided that you were generally left alone. Over the last few years they have taken over everything. They extort payments from honest businesses. They rob and harass people with no fear of the police. They now control the lives of everyone, and are hated and feared by all living here.
My papa was an important man in his time. He was killed by political rivals five years ago. The government never took any steps to avenge his murder. My older brother Carlos tried to be strong for Momma and me, but he was only two years older than me. These were violent times and it required strong, grown men to protect their families.
Since Papa's death we could no longer afford to live in our old house. Momma was forced to sell, and now we rented a tiny shack just a few blocks away. I think it was actually a converted garage for the larger house out in front. I was always so ashamed of the way we were now living, that I never invited any of my friends over for fear of the look on their faces if they saw our little place.
Our little family was often the target of insults by neighbors. They held my papa responsible for failing to take a tougher stand against the corrupt local government officials. Papa was resistant to use his influence to force them out; he preferred a non-violent approach. Giving of his own life was apparently not enough for some people. Crime was now in charge and corruption within the police allowed criminals to run free.
I was sent away right after Papa's death to live with Momma's sister, Theresa, for almost four years. It was during this time that my body was going through many changes. It was only when I noticed how young men would look at me that I began to discover the curse that was on me. I wasn't like the other girls with plump bottoms and wide hips. Momma had been very attractive in her early years, and from the pictures my aunt showed me, I was the very image of her at that age.
My beauty would have been a blessing in any other culture or time. Somewhere else I might have even become an important celebrity or at least attracted a rich husband. Here however, I attracted only the wrong people. Egged on by some girlfriends, I began experimenting with make-up and some flattering clothing. I really didn't need it to attract the boys, because everywhere we went all the boys seemed to focus on me.
My aunt would say to me how my natural beauty was handed down by the ancient ones. My looks reflected my heritage. My high cheekbones and full lips were a trait past to me from generations long ago. My grandmamma was full-blooded Ch'orti' Indian. She was descended from the Mayans who were known to all as the God's chosen people. Ancient beliefs held that males of these tribes were rewarded from the wind and earth Gods with the most beautiful wives.
I had full breasts and a narrow waist. Any tight fitting clothing would define the natural curves of my hips. Coal black eyes and brows were features that I must have picked up from my Papa's side of the family. My aunt would often warn me that this was a blessing and a curse.
Unfortunately, I was also becoming a bit of a rebellious teenager. I started hanging around with the local boys who wished to take me out. Honduras is a poor country with slums everywhere. The one thing the government does do is supply free birth control pills to any girl wishing them. I was offended, but my aunt marched me right up to the dispensary, and I was given my pills. The government would rather no babies be born than to have still more poor mouths to feed.
I was eventually sent back to live with Momma after my aunt's husband left her. She didn't have any income now and could not continue to feed me. Once back in the slum with Momma I resisted her pleas to tone down my style of dress. Of course, I wouldn't listen. I had a mind of my own. I was nineteen now, and felt I had the right do as I wished.
Momma only had the one sister and one brother Enrico. He was a hard worker. He ran a small business doing home repairs. He and his family lived not too far from us, but they didn't stop by that often. I think he was always busy keeping his business growing to support his wife Sofia and his son Luis. Other than that, Momma, Carlos and I were now on our own. The tiny shack Momma was living in was an embarrassment to me. Carlos was there, and I had truly missed him. I loved my momma, but I couldn't live like this.
The gang's presence in our neighborhood was always felt. You seldom ventured out alone and never after dark. Yet, I was young and arrogant. I figured my looks offered me some kind of privilege or immunity. Sure, I got the whistles and cat-calls. I just took them as a compliment. Most of the gang members were losers and most were ugly. I kind of figured they would be intimidated by a confident girl like me. Most times my bluff worked. I found that a couple of the uglier ones actually seemed flattered that I would even nod a polite recognition of their existence.
One of the higher-ranking gang members was a guy nick-named Lobo. I'd run into him probably a couple times a week. Actually, I think he was searching out where I might be and was pretending to "happen" to be in my path. I thought it was a little cute the way he was trying to get to say hello to me so often.
"Machismo bravado," I thought. He struts like a young rooster, yet he is unsure of himself around a girl like me. This little game went on for a couple months. Of course, I knew why he was really checking me out, but I really had no idea as to the seriousness of the game I was playing. My brother Carlos knew about Lobo and had tried to warn me off. Carlos had grown up with some of the gang's members. Some had even been friends with Carlos up until they joined the gang. Once in the gang however you only associated with other gang members. Everyone else was "prohibido."
I was returning from the market carrying a small package one day, and of course I ran into Lobo.