something stinks

Something stinks.

Was it what we ate last night?

I covered my nose as I made my way to the kitchen trash.
I bent over and took a big whiff,
and sure enough, that’s where the smell was coming from.

I sighed.

Of course it has to be single digit temps out with a wind chill.
I hated taking out the trash during Minnesota winters.

Typically, I wouldn’t put a coat on
and I would just dart outside quickly in my slippers
and rush back inside before the chill got the best of me.

Today was no different.

I hoisted up the smelly garbage with one hand
and opened the door with the other.

The sun was peeking through the overcast clouds,
creating a hazy glow.

I quickly jogged to the trash bins at the corner of my property,
lifted the lid
and threw the bag in with a thud.

When I turned to go back inside,
I saw that my neighbor, Julia,
had pulled up into her driveway.

I could see she had her two-year-old daughter
strapped in the backseat.

I smiled.

I remembered watching her cute daughter play in their yard this past summer.

I turned back to hop inside the house
as the brisk breeze made my skin numb
underneath my light sweatshirt.

But out of the corner of my eye
I saw a grey SUV pull up to Julia’s house.

I turned to face the driveway again.

That’s odd, I thought, frowning.
I don’t remember anyone in Julia’s family having a grey SUV.

Curious, I stood there watching to see who got out,
my arms wrapped around my sweatshirt
to hopefully create more warmth.

I started shifting my footing in place,
hoping the movement would keep me warmer.

It sure was cold outside.

The driver’s side and passenger doors
opened at the same time
to reveal two masked men dressed in camouflage,
identified as ICE agents.

I covered my mouth with my hand,
my breath catching in my throat
as a knot formed in my stomach.

My immediate urge was to protect Julia,
who had yet to make it out of the vehicle.

I could see she was tending to her daughter,
trying to gather a few things.

I saw her glance at the officers,
her bright smile turning to a straight line.

One of the men was yelling for her
to get out of the vehicle.

But I heard the click of Julia locking the doors.

I couldn’t see her face,
but I could only imagine how frightened she felt.

I started to make my way across the street,
my heart pounding,

and as I approached the driveway
the second agent saw me
and pointed with his arm to stay away,
shaking his head.

I stumbled backwards a bit,
regaining my footing,
but I shouted,

“What’s wrong?
Why are you approaching her like that?
I’m her neighbor.
I’m just trying to help.”

The agent ignored me.

I could hear Julia’s piercing sobs
coming from the vehicle.

My heart leapt to my throat,
beads of sweat forming despite the cold.

Then a high-pitched crashing sound
radiated across the neighborhood,
shards of glass flying.

The agent broke the driver’s side window
with the barrel of the gun.

He reached over, unlocked the door,
yanking Julia from the seat.

Screams shot through the air.

Her daughter started to wail
in the backseat.

I rushed forward without thinking,
only to be met with a sharp blow to the chest.

It took my breath away.

I lurched backwards.

The agent had shoved me to the pavement.

I could taste blood and asphalt,
the side of my face bleeding
from hitting the ground.

The throbbing pain started immediately.

The world was spinning in front of me.

I winced as the jolting, jarring pulses intensified.

All I could see were patches of ice
and black pavement.

My hand went to my head.

I tried to get up.
I tried to go back and help.
I wanted to save Julia.

By the time I made it up from my spot
in the middle of the street,
Julia, her daughter, and the agents were gone.

All that was left
were sharp shards of glass
coating the driveway
and Julia’s car.

Empty.

A jagged hole
in the driver’s window.

A hole where Julia and her daughter had been.

The anxiety, worry, and shock
of the last few minutes
ransacked the pain I was feeling,
creating a lurching in my stomach
I couldn’t ignore.

I bent over,
my body jerking forward,
as I vomited in the middle of the street.

The stench rose up to my nostrils.

This time,
I didn’t cover my nose.