Born into the bustling city of Montevideo, Uruguay, Isabel would grow up in a rather decent neighborhood. Everything was looking okay for the first few years of her life. Her father had a semi-successful restaurant business. Her mother was a stay-at-home mother. Isabel was the oldest of her siblings. Isabel could be found tirelessly attending Sunday mass every week. In her household, the word of God was law. Isabel never understood why her family was so religious, all she knew was she had to be a part of it or suffer the consequences.

Numerous times in Isabel's childhood, she wanted to deviate from the iron clasp Catholicism had over her. She would make excuses not to attend church. She would stay silent during grace. She would not say her bedtime prayers in defiance to her parents. This opposition only grew stronger the older she became.

Schooling for Isabel had always been tough. Her parents opted to send her to a privatized Catholic school. Forced to wear a uniform, she had no freedom of expression. School would try to teach her to be a god loving machine, which she openly rejected. Though her grades were always good, her attitude towards being oppressed always put her in detention.

Around 18 years old, the crush of macroeconomics was being experienced by the people of Uruguay. Her father’s business had to shut its doors as they could no longer afford to keep the doors open. Isabel had been pulled out of Catholic school, along with her siblings. Her family wasn't sure what to do at this point. Her father couldn't go from managing a restaurant to being at the bottom of the totem pole at another restaurant, they could not survive off that money. Her mother had no skills to pay the bills. Numerous jobs around the country had been cut due to rising inflation. At this point, they only had one option: flee.

The family had sold the home. They managed to take whatever small personal belongings they had and put them in individual backpacks. With assistance from a local smuggling syndicate, they had used the funds from their home to secure a safe travel north through Brazil, Venezuela, and across the Caribbean Sea. Isabel's family was quickly packed into a box truck with small holes drilled into the floor for ventilation. They were packed like sardines with other families who were also trying to flee the poor Uruguayan economy.

The farther north towards the equator they traveled, the warmer it got. Temperatures were reaching almost 120 degrees inside of the truck. It was dark, wet, and humid. The roads were unforgiving. Unpaved paths through the countryside of Brazil only caused frustration for the passengers of the truck. Everyone had to stand, each bump they hit caused everyone to stumble onto each other.

No water, food, or medical care had been provided to anyone. The cries of Isabel's youngest sister could be heard for several hours, before silence fell. It was too dark to see anything. Isabel couldn't see her sister. She wasn't standing with her family. She was gone.

Through Brazil, they made their way into Venezuela. Due to the poor Venezuelan economy, they were able to make their way through the country with ease. Upon reaching a port, the backend of the truck opened. Daylight blinded everyone in the back. Everyone was forced, at gun point, to evacuate the decrepit box truck. Isabel would look over her shoulder, only to find several lifeless bodies lying on the floor of the vehicle, one being her sister.

Her family, along with others, had been packed into the hull of a medium sized research vessel. The vessel was presumably stolen as the flag flying off it was of Thailand. The ship was cooler, a more pleasant temperature than spending days on end in the back of a box truck. The hardest part seemed to be over.

The research vessel had made its way up the cold Atlantic waters to find its way into the port city of Providence, Rhode Island. This was the last part of the journey. Upon arrival into the port, the research vessel had docked. The two Uruguayan smugglers hopped off, talking to port officials to get the permission to dock there, things started to not look good. The port officials had called agents from Customs and Border Protection to inspect the boat. Isabel could hear several footsteps above her, more men had stepped foot onto the deck.

Isabel's heart was racing. Was this the end? Would she be forced to travel all the way back to Uruguay? The door to the hull opened, several men dressed in tactical gear entered the hull. They began grabbing people and pulling them out of the boat, one by one. A man grabbed Isabel and yanked her to the surface. The sunlight burned her eyes. The men were speaking English, something Isabel thankfully understood due to her proficient grades in school. The rest of her family failed to understand what was going on.

The CBP agents handcuffed everyone, everyone was to line up near the end of the pier while they waited for vans to bring them to detention centers. Isabel looked behind herself, then back at the line of men holding assault rifles, then back down towards the frigid Atlantic waters. Isabel, handcuffed, took a leap of faith backwards. Her body plummeting into the unforgiving northern Atlantic Sea. Her head bobbed out of the water; she noticed above her was angry yelling. She submerged herself below the water for as long as she could, letting the currents drift her away. She heard several splashes come from the direction she dove from.

Washing up on a beach a few miles down the bay, her younger brother, Raul, washed up as well. No one else seemed to have made it. The two of them, handcuffed, ran up onto the beach. While taking cover in the bushes, they strategized how to remove the handcuffs. They looked around the beach. Thanks to the people of Rhode Island, the beach was full of trash. They scavenged the trash looking for a short piece of metal. Maybe a can or something they can rip apart. At last, after 10 minutes of searching, they found a torn up empty can of beer. Isabel took the can behind her back, ripping it the best she could to make a flat shim. She jammed the shim into the notch of the handcuff. Tightening the handcuff by one notch, she was able to push the shim in between the cuff teeth and the pawl arm. Applying outwardly pressure, she was able to free herself from the cuffs.

She rushed over to Raul, freeing him of his shackles. She then tossed the cuffs into the ocean. They were now free. Running up to the beach they made their way into town. They needed a way to get cover, fast. Isabel scoured the streets and found a dingy thrift store, upon entry all she could smell was mold. The place was rotting from the inside out. Perfection. She walked towards the back of the store, and she found two hoodies for her and Raul. She went into the dressing room, put the hoodie on, and shoved the other under her shirt. She ripped the tags off and the two of them left the store, without paying of course.

Under their new guise, they needed help. They weren’t going to make it long staying near Providence. Isabel knows she has a grandmother living in Vermont. She hasn’t seen or talked to this woman in over 10 years. Would she recognize her? Who knows. It was their only shot at making a living in America.

Isabel and Raul have a few things they needed to figure out. How to travel to Vermont? Will they walk or take a riskier alternative to hitch hiking? Where will they sleep or eat? Where does granny even live in Vermont? Their first stop is somewhere where they can access internet. Isabel remembered being able to access the internet from computers in their school’s library.

The two of them made their way around town, looking at signs. They entered a few businesses asking for directions to a library. They needed to do research. They walked across town to the local library. Once they got access to the library, they began their research. Using the infamous Google, they were able to find public records of who their grandmother was and where she lived in Vermont. She even had an active landline. Thanks Yellow pages. Isabel wrote the phone number and address down on some paper and logged off.

Isabel and Raul set out to at least find a meal first. Making the long 2-3 day trek to Manchester, Vermont on an empty stomach is only a recipe for disaster. The two of them began to walk up Route 7. Isabel and Raul had no money, no means of transportation, all they had were their legs and the clothes on their bodies. They began to hitchhike, putting a thumb out, walking down the road. Watching car after car reject their call for help. Who can blame them though? Picking up hitchhikers is a risky game for both the driver and the hiker.

The loudest, rattiest looking car pulled ahead of them on the side of the road. Running ahead up to the passenger window, Isabel leaned in. The man driving the car unlocked the doors, allowing them to get a ride. The man looked over at them and smiled, introducing himself. His name was Winston. Isabel talked with Winston for a very long time. She had found out that Winston recently split ways with his best friend and business partner a few months ago. She discovered that he wasn’t really the nicest person back then, but he was trying to change for the better. Isabel didn’t trust him at first, but she had no choice.

Isabel told her chronicle to Winston as they drove north. How she was forced to partake in religious activities. How she was made to leave Uruguay with her family to go to America. How the rest of her family is now either floating dead in Providence Bay or are stuck in a detention center awaiting deportation. How she is trying to reach her grandmother in Manchester, Vermont as it’s the only way she can live in America.

Winston drove them to a nearby diner. The three of them had a very nice meal together, allowing them to order whatever they wanted, to enjoy themselves. They’ve had an extraordinarily hard time lately. The least Winston could do was help them out. The events of everything that had just happened started to crush down on Isabel. Her mind began spiraling downwards. The onset of depression loomed. She went from laughing and enjoying herself with Winston, to crying.

Winston comforted her the best he could, he wasn’t much of a talker, but he was funny. He tried his best to cheer her up. Winston even offered to drive her all the way up to her grandmothers. He needed to travel back there regardless; his bunker wasn’t far from her grandmother’s place. Isabel was astonished at his generosity. Her and Raul were very grateful to encounter such a kind man during these trying times. The three of them wrapped up their meal and headed back out onto the road.

Their 2 day trek turned into only a 3 hour drive. Once arriving at the home of her grandmothers, they knocked on the door. Winston waited in the car. Isabel’s grandmother, Maria, answered the door. She was confused to see two people at her door, she never gets visitors. Isabel explained who she was, who Raul was, and their situation. It took Maria some time to fully register what was going on and who these people were, but it finally clicked.

Maria hugged the two of them and welcomed them inside, even inviting Winston in as well. Everyone had time to exchange stories, talk about their lives, and collect their thoughts. Isabel and her remaining family were very grateful for Winston’s generosity, he did not have to drive them all the way up to Vermont, he did not have to feed them. Winston explained he wanted to take it one step further, he wanted to support them. He wanted to get them a place to live, set them up with jobs, give them a stipend. Isabel gladly accepted his gift.

Over time Winston would get Isabel set up with a pharmacy technician job at a local pharmacy. He bought a small trailer home for them to stay in, even bought them an old car to bomb around town in. He bolstered them by doubling whatever Isabel got in a paycheck every two weeks. Isabel wasn’t sure why this man was being so nice to her, but she was very grateful to have him in her life.

Isabel would hang out with Winston almost daily. She would either spend time at his bunker or Winston would relax at her trailer home. Winston would even go as far as to show Raul how to shoot guns, something which he would have never been able to do in Uruguay. Isabel saw this as a blessing, to finally be away from the religious clasp of her family, to be living on her own.

Six months have now gone by, everything seemed to be normal in the small town of Manchester. Winston came over to Isabel’s home and asked a very off the cuff question. Will you marry me? Isabel was taken aback, she wasn’t sure what to say, she had no idea where this question even came from. As far as she was aware, they weren’t even really dating. She needed time to think. Isabel put off the question, as it was a very serious topic. Winston was understanding, he gets it, he’s just a bit impatient when it comes to love.

Isabel had taken a short walk in the woods, trying to make sense of the situation that was happening. Why does he want to marry her? What does he see in her? Was he only helping her out so she would marry him? Isabel didn’t see a reason why he would betray her, he had only been supportive of her since the day she met him. She returned inside, asking him what he saw in her.

A month later, the two of them would be seen at townhall, signing their marriage certificate. Isabel moved into the bunker with Winston. At this point, the bunker was a shell of what it used to be. There were no more tanks, crates of weapons stacked to the ceiling, pallets of 50 caliber ammo cans, all of this was gone. Winston had been trying to make a legit living for himself running his bowling alley. The bunker was quiet, warm, and peaceful. Something Isabel could get adjusted to.