Juan Manuel Fernández-Ramos has lost count of the days he has been detained at the IAH Polk Detention Center in Livingston, Texas. The only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn't want to stay there.

"I'm going to ask for my deportation. I can't stand being here one more day," says the 30-year-old Cuban, who has been locked up for almost six months after an arrest for drunk driving just three minutes from his home in Tampa. The offense was "minor," but the consequences were devastating.

In cell A1, where he shares space with seven other men: Mexicans, Cubans, and a Belizean, time seems to have stopped. According to a report published in El País, they only have a table, a television, a bathroom without doors, and a stifling heat that appears into the red and orange uniforms that mark the inmates' routine.

Each day begins with a meager breakfast and often ends with arguments, insomnia, and the desire to escape, even through deportation.

Juan has until August 19 to leave the country, but he remains impressed.

Juan no longer hopes for a judicial miracle, and on July 7, he had his last hearing before an immigration judge. He paid $15,000 to a lawyer in a desperate attempt to get out, but it was not used: he did not qualify for asylum. "I got angry and told the judge to do whatever he wanted with me," he said. The lawyer suggested they opt for voluntary departure, a path promoted by the Donald Trump administration under the promise that they could return in the future, legally, with the help of an official app and a payment of $1,000. Juan agreed: he paid $500 more to be released and will have until August 19 to leave the United States on his own. But he's still waiting. Meanwhile, life inside the center continues to be a daily battle. The hygienic conditions are minimal. "This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life," says Juan Manuel. claiming to have lost more than 13 kilos since his admission.

The showers, the food, and even the temperature seem designed to break them down. "It's not normal heat," he adds. "Here, the fat people get skinny, and the skinny ones don't show."

His partner, Alejandro García, a Cuban stripper detained for a fight in Texas, can no longer stand living together. "Here, we fight over everything, even a pair of underwear," he says. He also requested his deportation, although in his case, he fears returning to Cuba. He would prefer Mexico, but authorities aren't offering him that option.

Others, like Emmanuel Hernández (Belize) and Jaime Navarro (Mexico), fear for their lives if they are returned to their countries. Emmanuel was a victim of violence in Guadalajara, and Jaime claims to have been tortured by criminal groups.

The Trump administration plans to expand the capacity of these centers with $45 billion, while ICE already has more than 60,000 detainees, well above the 41,500 allowed by Congress. In Livingston, cells like Juan's will remain full. And when one leaves, another takes its place.