I come from Guatemala City, more precisely from Barrio La Villa, which is the most dangerous neighborhood with the highest crime rate in all of Central America. In Barrio La Villa, we lived right next to a river. This river was extremely dirty. There were a lot of dead animals and dead people in body bags. Local people washed their clothes and children went fishing and swimming there. This neighborhood had some really nasty things going on. Dead chickens all over the streets. There were numerous shootings and murders every day. The people here were really poor and had no opportunities. It was a sad place. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”? Get the original essay When I was eight years old, I had a younger brother who died in my mother's arms because we didn't We didn't have the funds to take him to the hospital. He died of an asthma attack when he was only three years old, and I remember watching him die. My mother was screaming, “My baby, my God, please, not my baby,” once she felt his body freezing and cold. It was normal. This happened to many people around Barrio La Villa. My younger sister also had asthma, but luckily we were able to take her to the hospital. When she got a little older, my mother, my sister and I tried to escape my father. There were many times when the three of us tried to escape, but my father always kept me or my sister. My mother would always reach out and hold my sister because she was so afraid of what my father might do to her. Therefore, I spent a lot of time with my father. He would never allow the three of us to be together. This time we tried to escape, but he caught my mother. He really beat her, so much that she was taken to the hospital, and at the hospital they did nothing to help her. It is very dangerous to be in the hospital here in Barrios La Villa. There are many military and gangs in the hospital who deal with many robberies and murders. The hospital has no water or medicine, and almost no one receives treatment there. Without care, my mother returned to the streets and started working again. It was a normal routine. After receiving the worst beating she had ever endured, my mother left when I was about twelve years old. I knew deep in my heart that she was bound to leave. One day we went to visit his uncle who is staying at the top of the mountains. I still remember that we had to take this very muddy path to get to his house. My uncle gave her a plan that she would take my sister first and come back later to pick me up or bring me. I didn't know what she was going to do. She left with my sister and I stayed there for about three years. When my mother and sister left, my father was furious. He started drinking more and the abuse became more constant. I was once shot twice while playing football. That's when I realized I couldn't live with such an abusive man. I wanted to come to the United States because my mother was there. Honestly, that was the only reason I was making this long trip to the United States. The trip was horrible. It all started in this very unpleasant and dirty place, just above Guatemala City. I'm not trying to be gross, but this place was full of feces and smelled like urine. The children were there. I remember seeing a place where prostitution was happening, but I didn't think anything of it. It was right there. While walking and taking the bus, I finally encountered the “coyote” in this huge church. There, I was told..