It's now time for just the terror with Nick Guerra. A family decision.

My mom died two weeks ago.

It's safe to say I was devastated. I found her in the

bath under the water. The police said it was an accident or that she had killed herself, but I remember

seeing the window and blinds open, which didn't make any sense.

When she would take a bath to cool down and avoid the sun, she'd always close the blinds.

But the police weren't going to listen to a 14-year-old, let alone one who spoke with an American accent and an awkward stutter.

I'd been homeschooled in a small town in Mexico.

It's been hard for me growing up here as I couldn't speak the language well.

And while I'd pick up bits here and there, my mom was in agoraphobic, meaning she was scared of going outside.

At least that's what she told me.

She had kept me inside and isolated for the longest time, and it wasn't until her death that I found

out why.

When she died, the local police came and took her body away.

I actually stayed the night alone for the first time ever at our small apartment in the hills.

The police said I was safer there, then at their precinct where they had no room, nor anyone

to look after me from the revolving door bad guys guys continually making it their home.

That night was terrible.

I missed her so bad.

They told me to gather any belongings I wanted to take, so I packed all my stuff into a suitcase and then went through the drawers in my mom's room.

Within was a letter addressed to me, sealed by her lipstick.

In the morning it wasn't the Mexican police who came back, but a man from the American consulate.

...