Chapter 1
Mundo desteuido 1
Hilara era una niña 7 años,de pien cafe con leche,casi clara, y cabello largo, negro como el carbon, los ojos marron oscuro como el chocolate.Una chica alegre,risueña,feliz en su pripio mundo. En el caso de Hilara,era muy seguido sentirse hechada a un lado por la mayoria de las personas que iba conociendo ya que tenia mucha energia, pero no por eso dejo de ser ella misma. Los demas la miraban ,como la oveja negra de todo el mundo y esto no empezo ni desde ayer ni desde el año pasado,sino que empezo desde que era apenas una cria. Viniendo de una familia bastante humilde,Hilara vivia con sus padres y su hermana mayor Tira,en una casita improvisada que se encontraba en el patio de atras de la casa principal de sus abuelos Greta y Jorge padres de Miguel . Dado que sus abuelos no aguantaban a su madre Lora una mujer de un metro cincuenta y cinco,de pelo rojo oscuro y ojos color miel,que hacia 6 años se habia casado con Miguel un hombre de pelo castaño de un metro sesenta de altura.Se casaron sin la bendicion de la familia,estos dos no fueron aceptados por los padres de Miguel ni por sus 5 hermanas por lo que,no teniendo mas remedio, ni a donde ir,Miguel les pidió a sus padres un sitio lo mas pequeño posible,para poder construir una casita.Y les dio el sitio mas lejano a la puerta principal Se pusieron manos a la obra y entre lodo,ladrillos y paja,hicieron 2 habitaciones. En una se situaba el dormitorio que compartirian con Tira e Hilara donde se encontraba una cama de matrimonio vieja y una cama pequeña con un armario pequeño al lado en el que cabian varias mudas de ropa para cada uno de ellos.Habian unas alfombras blancas con rayas de colores que estaban usadas y pero bastante limpias y en la otra habitacion habia un sofa antiguo pero limpio de color crema y madera oscura y un sillon a juego que habian recibido de la madre de Lora.Tambien habia una mesita para que pudieran comer y unas sillas plegables.Para cocinar se habian comprado una estufa. Pasaron los años e Hilara no se daba cuenta de lo pobres que estaban,aunque no tenia ni muñecas,ni peluches,y tampoco tanta ropa.Su unico juguete era un elote de maiz que siempre robava del jardin de su abuela.El elote aun tenia la barba que suelen tener al cosecharlos y se imaginaba que era una muñeca despues de pintarle unos ojos,una boca y la tipica linia simulando la nariz. Aunque a veces no tenian casi ni que comer,siempre la ropa estaba limpia,impecable,y la pequeña casa donde vivian estaba impoluta y siempre recogida. Hilara estaba feliz,aunque veia muchas cosas que le hubiera encantado tener,y ha visto muchas peleas entre su madre y sus cuñadas o su madre y su suegra,pero ella se sentia feliz con su famiia en sunpequeña casa.Ella se ponia contenta con los restos de ropa que le regalaba su vecina,Leni,cosas que su nieta que ya no usaba. Leni,la vecina de Hilara era una mujer de cincuenta y tantos años que vivia con su hijo, sus nietos y su nuera. Leni regañaba a la abuela Greta ya que se portaba muy mal con Lora la madre de Hilara y siempre le decia: -Hojala mi nuera fuera al menos la mitad de buena que la tuya. Pero la abuela Greta siempre le contestaba: -Habran mejores.... Un dia Hilara y su primo se encontraban en la calle donde vivian ,jugando, o mejor dicho... Hilara le rogaba a su primo que le prestara la bicicleta que habia recibido por su cumpleaños,pero le rogaba en vano.Alex solo se burlaba a tal punto de pasar tan cerca de Hilara que esta cayo al suelo. Leni vio la escena y regaño a Alex,luego le volvio a hacer una coleta a Hilara que aun estaba con las lagrimas en la cara y sollozando por las heridas ,las que le habia provocado la caida que sufrio por culpa de Alex. A Leni le dio mucha pena,pero ella tampoco tenia una situacion muy estable por lo que en aquel momento solo pudo invitar a Hilara a un trozo de bizcocho con la idea de que a la niña se olvidara del accidente. Los padres de Hilara cada vez acumulaban mas deudas,en supermercados del pueblo,en el banco y...muchas otras deudas a conocidos ya que, aunque trabajaban les resultaba dificil cubrir todos los gastos.Asi que un dia decidieron que era hora de irse,y no hablo de irse de aquella casa,sino, del pais. Nadie supo nada de eso. Un dia los padres de Hilara, recogieron a las dos hermanas del colegio y las llevo a casa de su tatarabuela,las niñas no sabian para que.Pensaban que celebrarian algo,hasta que con mucho dolor Miguel al fin les dijo con voz tenue y suave Chicas,tenemos que irnos. Hilara abrio los ojos y se imaginaba mil lugares a donde podrian ir,como por ejemplo,la playa,que en 7 años solo la vio una vez en las noticias cuando miraba a escondidas por la ventana de la casa de su tia ya que ella no tenia una tele y nk la dejaban pasar. El padre de Hilara continuo: No sera por mucho tiempo,pero es necesario que vuestra madre y yo nos vayamos para que podamos ofreceros una vida mejor. En aque momento el mundo de Hilara se derrumbó,entendiendo lo que jamas imagino...
Hilara, a child of seven, was a vision of warm, sun-kissed skin, her complexion a light café au lait. Her hair, long and dark as charcoal, cascaded down her back, framing eyes of deep, rich chocolate. She possessed a spirit as bright and effervescent as a bubbling stream, a cheerful soul who reveled in her own vibrant world. Yet, this boundless energy often left her feeling like an outsider, a sentiment that had shadowed her from her earliest days. Others saw her as the peculiar one, the black sheep, a label that seemed to cling to her like a second skin.
Born into humble circumstances, Hilara lived with her parents and elder sister, Tira, in a makeshift dwelling tucked away in the sprawling backyard of her grandparents, Greta and Jorge. Her mother, Lora, a woman of fifty-six inches with fiery dark red hair and honey-colored eyes, had married Miguel, a man of sixty-three inches with brown hair, six years prior. Their union, lacking the blessing of Miguel’s family, had rendered them outcasts. Faced with no other options, Miguel had pleaded with his parents for the smallest patch of land on which to build a home. The spot they were granted was the furthest from the main house, a neglected corner of the property.
With a shared purpose, they toiled, their hands stained with mud, their efforts fueled by a mix of bricks and straw. Two small rooms took shape. One housed their sleeping quarters, shared by Hilara, Tira, and their parents. A worn double bed occupied the main space, alongside a smaller bed for the girls, and a compact wardrobe that barely held their few changes of clothes. Faded but impeccably clean rugs, adorned with colorful stripes, offered a touch of warmth. The second room served as their living and dining area, furnished with a vintage cream-colored sofa and a matching armchair, gifts from Lora's mother. A simple table and a set of folding chairs completed the ensemble. For their culinary needs, they had managed to acquire a small stove.
Years passed, and Hilara, lost in her own imaginative universe, remained blissfully unaware of their poverty. Her toy box was conspicuously empty, devoid of dolls or plush companions, her wardrobe meager. Her sole treasure was a cob of corn, pilfered from her grandmother’s garden, its silken beard still attached. With a dollop of imagination, she’d paint eyes, a mouth, and the faint suggestion of a nose onto the kernels, transforming it into her beloved playmate. Despite the frequent scarcity of food, their small home was always immaculately clean and tidy, their clothes washed and pressed to perfection. Hilara found joy in the scraps of fabric her neighbor, Leni, a woman in her late fifties, gifted her – hand-me-downs from Leni’s grown granddaughter.
Leni, who lived with her son, her daughter-in-law, and her grandchildren, often found herself scolding Hilara’s grandmother, Greta. Greta’s disdain for Lora was a constant source of friction. "I wish my daughter-in-law were half as good as yours," Leni would chide Greta, only to be met with a dismissive, "There will be better ones..."
One afternoon, Hilara and her cousin Alex were playing on the street. Hilara, her voice a hopeful plea, begged Alex to let her borrow his birthday bicycle. Her entreaties fell on deaf ears. Alex, relishing his power, taunted her, riding so close that Hilara stumbled and fell to the ground. Leni witnessed the scene and, after admonishing Alex, gently tended to Hilara, her face streaked with tears and dirt. While Leni’s heart ached for the child, her own circumstances were precarious. She could only offer Hilara a piece of cake, hoping the sweetness would help her forget the sting of the fall.
Meanwhile, Hilara’s parents found themselves drowning in a sea of debt, accumulating bills from the local grocery stores, the bank, and numerous acquaintances. Despite their tireless work, covering all expenses proved an insurmountable challenge. A difficult decision was made: they would leave. Not just their small home, but the country itself.
The departure was shrouded in secrecy. One afternoon, Hilara and Tira were collected from school by their parents and taken to their great-grandmother's house. The girls, unaware of the reason, speculated about a celebration. But their father, Miguel, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes holding a sorrow he couldn’t conceal, finally delivered the news: "Girls, we have to go."
Hilara’s eyes widened, her mind racing with possibilities. Perhaps they were going to the beach, a place she had only glimpsed once on television, through a neighbor’s window, as their own home lacked a television and she was rarely allowed to visit the neighbor to watch it. Her father continued, his words a gentle balm on their confusion, "It won't be for long, but it's necessary. Your mother and I need to go so we can offer you a better life." In that moment, Hilara’s world fractured, the nascent understanding of a reality far harsher than she had ever imagined dawning within her.