I come from Guatemala City, specifically 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 many dead animals and dead people in body bags. People from the surrounding area washed their clothes and children went fishing and swimming there. This barrio had some really bad stuff. Dead chickens all over the streets. There were a lot of shootings and murders happening every day. The people here were really poor and didn't have any opportunities. It was a sad place to be. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get Original EssayWhen I was eight years old, I had a younger brother who died in my mother's arms because 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 would scream, “My baby, God, please, not my baby,” once she felt his body freezing cold. This was normal. It happened to many people around Barrio La Villa. My younger sister also suffered from asthma, but luckily we were able to get her to the hospital. When she got a little older, my mother, sister and I tried to run away from my father. There were several times when the three of us tried to escape, but my father always held me or my sister back. My mother always stepped up and held 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 have allowed the three of us to be together. This time we tried to escape, but he caught my mother. He beat her really, really bad that she was taken to the hospital, and in the hospital they wouldn't do anything 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 thefts and murders. The hospital has no water or medicine and almost no one receives attention. Without receiving treatment, my mother simply returned to the streets and started working again. This was a normal routine. After receiving the worst beating she had ever suffered, my mother left when I was about twelve. I knew deep down in my heart that she would go away. One day we went to visit his uncle who is up in the mountains. I still remember that we had to walk on this very muddy path to get to his house. My uncle gave her a plan where she would take my sister first and then come back for me or take me. I didn't know what he 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 came more consistently. I once got shot twice while playing soccer. That's when I realized I couldn't live with such a violent man. I wanted to come to the United States because my mother was there. Honestly this was the only reason I made the long journey to the United States. The trip was horrible. It all started in this dirty, disgusting place just above Guatemala City. I'm not trying to be gross, but this place had a lot of feces everywhere and smelled like urine. The children were there. I remember seeing a place where prostitution took place, but I didn't think about it. It was right there. Walking and taking the bus, I finally met the "coyote" in this huge church. There I was told to communicate only by whistling. Whistling prevented people from finding out that you are a migrant. They will beat you, they will rape you, they will kidnap you, you..