September 11th, 2014
This is a story about 9/11 by a girl your age – Rachel.
Go to this address to find her story online: http://www.kidpub.com/story/91101-short-story-contains-fictional-and-nonfictional-occurances-older-readers-do-not-read-if-
You will also receive a hard copy of the story.
Activity list:
BEFORE YOU READ,
1. Create a T-chart (double entry sheet) and write a summary paragraph describing what you already know about what happened on September 11, 2001.
2. View both videos below and create a T-chart (double entry sheet), Collect-It sheet, and summary paragraph for each video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfYQAPhjwzA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lKZqqSI9-s
3. Compare your original T-chart and paragraph to the charts and paragraphs you made after viewing the videos. Then complete this statement: By watching news video of the 9/11 attack on our country, I learned ___________________________________________________________________________.
4. While reading the story, mark at least four main ideas with their supporting details on your copy.
5. Then, complete the following : The central idea of Rachel’s 9/11 story is ____________________________.
6. Write three paragraphs about what happened in New York on 9/11 as if you were standing close enough to see it – an eyewitness account. Remember, YOU ARE THERE. Use visual imagery (vocabulary words) in your account.
7. EXTRA: Create a poster depicting the 9/11 attacks from your point of view.
8. Read Rachel’s memory of 9/11 twelve years later, below.
http://elitedaily.com/life/a-personal-story-of-terror-tragedy-triumph-as-we-remember-911-twelve-years-later/
T-Chart Rachel’s ideas on the left, and your reactions on the right. Then write a paragraph: what are Rachel’s main thoughts thinking back on 9/11 as a young adult? In your concluding sentence, tell YOUR reactions to Rachel’s main thoughts.
My 9/11 Story
by Rachel
**Please note that the characters are fictional. The times aren’t exactly accurate, as the South Tower fell at 9:59, and the North Tower around 10:28. But this is accurate on the events (the planes crashing into the Towers)
For older readers simply because it made me cry, and I’m the author. It has sad events in it, so do not read on if you’re easily upset.
Oh, and sorry for the longness, but the length flies by. I’d really appreciate feedback. (:
9/11/01
Sighing, I head to the door, grabbing my shoes out of a mismatched pile of my shoes, along with my mom’s, dad’s, and sister’s. Sitting on the floor, I pull them on, tying the laces tight in a double-knot. I need to get outside. Take a walk, smell the fresh air, you know, enjoy myself.
“I’m going to go outside and take a walk mom,” I call through the house, my hand on the cool doorknob.”I’ll be back later.”
“Alright sweetie. Be safe. See ya later.” I just nod before slipping outside.
It’s a nice day outside, on the day of September 11th, 2001. It’s early out though- only eight twenty nine in the morning, from what my watch says. But already the sun is shining brightly, and the temperature is fairly nice. A cool breeze whistles through the gaps in the trees. Breathing out the fresh morning air, I begin to stroll leisurely down the sidewalk.
Birds chirp at me as I walk and dogs bark. I laugh, waving at several of our neighbors already up and about. New York is always lively, which makes it exciting and varied every day.
I walk quickly, but yet not too quickly to miss little details like the beautiful roses growing along the sidewalk.
In five minutes, I’ve reached a busy center of town- the area in which the huge Twin Towers stand. I stand back, backing up until I can see the Towers clearly. They’re towering above New York, reaching into the clouds it seems. I cock my head, smiling at them. My father works in the North Tower. Today though, he’d brought my older sister with him to work because she wants to work there someday.
Glancing back down at my black watch, I stare at the digital numbers. My watch reads that it’s eight-forty a.m.
Stretching myself out, I yawn, glancing at the sun which is still rising some in the sky. Crossing my arms, I stand there on the sidewalk, head cocked upwards, just watching the Towers. I don’t know what I’m expecting though- it’s not as if anything’s going to happen.
Hum.
I pause, upon hearing the faint humming of an aircraft. Looking up at the morning sky, I spot an aircraft flying through the air. For some reason, I seem mesmerized by it. My eyes stay glued to it.
But something’s wrong.
The aircraft shakes a couple of times. I realize with terror that it’s headed straight for the Twin Towers- the North Tower to be exact.
A few seconds pass, but they seem like centuries. Lifetimes. I’m glued to the spot as I watch the aircraft disappear- right into the North Tower it seems. A second later, flames explode on the other side of the North Tower. Black smoke plumes into the air- and at the same time debris rains from the sky rapidly, hitting the streets with thuds. I scream- even where I am, debris rains heavily on me. Falling to the ground, I cover my head with my arms. Bits of sharp things prick my arms, biting into my skin.
When the worst of the debris is done falling, I stand up, blinking up at the North Tower. Ash rains from the sky, and the acrid smell of something burning wafts to my nostrils. In the side of the North Tower is a huge hole that’s smoking, with flames licking the exterior.
This can’t be happening. My father’s in there! And my sister!
A lump grows in my throat. Where the plane hit looks to be around the eighty floor.
My father’s on the seventy-fifth floor.
No words can escape my lips. By now, a huge crowd has gathered where I am. Sirens sound in the distance. Fire-truck alarms. But nothing matters. All sounds all drowned out, except the fast beating of my heart.
Adults shove me back, behind them into the safety of the crowd. Ash bits stick in my blonde hair. I open my mouth, trying to scream, to say anything, but I can’t.
“Get back!” someone hisses, shoving me back roughly. “Go home! Be safe and go home!”
Fire burns in my heart. I won’t go home. My mother’s safe. My dad and sister’s not.
News reporters push forwards, the camera crew reeling to try and get good shots of the North Tower that’s still smoking, black tendrils polluting the air. I cough smelling the horrid smoke.
Suddenly police arrive. They hop out of their black-and-white cars, the sirens wailing, the red and blue lights flashing. The police run to the crowd, directing and shoving us backwards. We’re pushed backwards, a good ways away from the Twin Towers. I stumble backwards, carried by the flow of the crowd, tripping over my feet. I’m mute, unable to speak. Everything seems a blur. I glance at my watch, the numbers seeming blurry, but I can just make them out- nine o’ one. Twenty minutes from the plane crashing into the building.
Somehow, I manage to shove through the crowd, to the front. I spot fire trucks parked up front, hoses out, firemen hurrying here and there. I stop bluntly in front of a police officer, staring up at his scrawny beard and pearly blue eyes. “I need in,” I mutter, my words slurring. He looks down at me, confusion crossing his face.
“Excuse me?”
“The Towers. I need in,” I say, nodding at the Twin Towers.
The officer shakes his head sharply, looking stern. “No. No one’s allowed in. It’s too dangerous honey. Why don’t I take you to my vehicle and you can wait in there? I’ll take you home then.”
I protest, but the police officer grips my arm with his big, rough hand. I cry, as he pulls me back through the crowd, farther away from the Towers to several police vehicles. He opens one up, and shoves me gently inside. “Stay here,” he says, shutting the door behind me.
In anger, I kick the wall separating the part I’m in from the driving part. But immediately I pull my foot back, my toes screaming in pain. Nine-o’ five.
I head to the door, fiddling with it. It opens easily- at least he didn’t lock me inside. I hop out, shutting the door quietly behind me. My eyes turn upward, and I can just gape as I watch a second aircraft heading at top speed towards the South tower. It disappears, and a second later, flame blooms up on the other side. More smoke billows into the black sky, and I stare at a hole in the South Tower, around the seventieth floor. That’s it. I’ve got to find my father.
Debris rains from the sky once more as I head quickly to the crowd of people held back by the police. I cover my head with everyone else as sharp pieces of the building rains on us. More ash falls from the sky- black snowflakes.
I just want to cry. My eyes water, and a lump grows in my throat, but I stand up, my arms scraped and bleeding from the debris, and my clothes a black-ash mess. But I have to be strong. For my family.
Clenching my fists, I know I have to get inside the building, but I don’t know how to get past the police. They won’t let a thirteen, almost fourteen year old get inside. That’s for sure.
Flames lick both of the towers, from the explosion. If I don’t get inside soon…I shudder to think of what will happen.
I check my watch. Nine o’ seven.
Suddenly, the firemen call to the police officers. Everyone turns their attention to them- giving me just enough time. I slip through the crowd, and behind the police officers. I know they’re going to see me, so I have to be quick.
Dashing across the rubble, I make a bee-line for the double doors that stand propped open. However, rough hands grab me, pulling me back. A fireman blocks the doorway, holding out his hands as if to stop me. “You can’t go in there,” he says flatly, shaking his head.
I want to scream. But I can’t draw much more attention to myself.
And then I do something rash- I kick the police officer holding me, in the shin. His grip loosens on me, and I pound on his arms, slipping underneath and tumbling in a lopsided somersault forwards. The police officer must be wounded from me, because he falls to the ground, clutching at his knees. The fireman however tries to grab me- but I dash nimbly out of his way. He reaches to grab me, his hands outstretched and his legs open just enough. Dashing at him, he’s confused momentarily. I grab onto the tip of his fingers with my hands, and my feet position on a piece of slick broken glass, I slide between his legs, and behind him. I’m in the building.
I run to the stairs, and dash up them, dust and small rubble falling from the ceiling. Turning at the landing though, I realize no one’s following me. Because it would be dangerous to save the life of one girl.
I head up the flight of stairs, until I find an elevator. I know it’ll be dangerous, but I don’t have time to walk up seventy-five flights of stairs. The building could fall by then.
Shoving open the elevator door, I hop inside and press the seventy-fifth floor. The elevator starts the long ways up, slowly. It rocks and creaks with every floor, and I grow increasing nervous. What if it breaks down and I can’t get out?
To my horror, it stops at the seventieth floor. The lights flicker, before going out. I breathe slowly, terrified. The elevator creaks, rocking gently. If I don’t get out, I have a feeling I’m going to plummet down seventy stories.
My eyes stop on the door. It’s open a crack- in fact, it never really shut. I jam my small slender fingers in the tiny gap, and push. My muscles ache, but I push with all of my might. I must get out.
Finally the door budges, opening just enough. I pause, panting, sweat dripping down my forehead. Suddenly, the elevator gives a violent shake. My eyes grow wide, and I spring into action, throwing myself out of the elevator in a flying leap. I land hard on rubble, and just as the elevator gives way and plummets downwards. Breathing hard, I sit up, wiping the rubble off of me. I can smell the smoke here, on the seventieth floor. The heat surrounds me, suffocating me. I cough. The fire is near. I can feel it.
Looking around, I locate the stairs. They’re covered in rubble, and the stairs look weak, but they’re still intact. I hurry up them, onto the seventy-first floor.
These stairs are much worse. Half of the steps in the middle are gone, leaving a big wide gap to the landing. How am I supposed to get up them?
Looking around, I spot a closet. Shoving the door open, it falls off of its hinges, and into the rubble. I peer inside, finding some rope and buckets, along with a large mop that you can extend the height. Perfect.
Grabbing the mop and some rope, I hurry to the stairs. I extend the mop’s height quickly, adjusting it to just the right height. Then I tie one end of the rope securely to the top. Throwing the top of the mop up, the actual mop part locks on a huge piece of rubble.
Taking a deep breath, I grab onto the rope. I wrap my arms around the mop pole, and holding onto the rope, I begin to slowly slide up. The mop wiggles and bends, and several times I’m sure it’s going to fall, and with it, so am I. But it doesn’t.
Just as I’ve almost reached the top though, the mop wiggles. I gasp, realizing what’s about to happen. The mop falls from underneath me, and with it, the rope. But I manage to grasp onto the jagged landing before I fall.
Hanging there, I grab on with my other hand. My arms scream in pain. I pull myself up a little ways, before grabbing onto a jagged piece of drywall. Through all this, somehow I manage to pull myself and shimmy up.
The next flights of stairs aren’t as bad- sure there’s a few steps missing, and a large amount of debris covering them, but I manage to get up. Before I know it, I’m on the seventy-fifth floor. Running down the hallway, I notice scorch marks on the floor. Fires still burn inside. I reach my father’s door, shoving it open. Coughing, I head inside. A fire blocks the door. I slip past it, but my shirt starts to burn. Dropping to the floor, I roll in the rubble until it’s put out.
A handful of people are trapped inside. I scout the room, until I spot my father and sister, looking panicked. People are crying, screaming, shouting, and banging their fists on the walls. In anguish. They know what’s to come.
“Dad! Sissy!” I cry, running towards them. I just want to break down and cry. But when you’re in tough times, you’ve gotta be strong and hold your family up.
“Oh my gosh, Kayla, get out of here!” my older sister Valerie shouts, tears making clean streaks down her black-ash face. “Get out! Why are you here?”
My father turns, and when he sees me, I just want to shrink up in a ball and cry. The disappointment in his eyes is so strong, and he can just shake his head sadly. “Why’d you come?” he whispers. My father’s quiet voice is more torturing than my sister’s yelling voice.
“I’ve gotta save you guys,” I whisper. “I’m not going to let you die in here.” I stand up, strong and tall. I’ve made it this far.
My father crosses to the window, his face falling. Outside, the South Tower shakes, before starting to slow fall. Smoke and dust plume up from it, as it plummets to the ground. My stomach turns, and I look away.
“It’s only a matter of time before this one falls,” my father whispers. “Save yourself and get out of here.”
“No!” I protest. I turn to face the whole room. “We’re going to get out of here!”
I turn around widely. Spotting a door, I run to it and find another supply closet. Grabbing a mop, I turn to one section of the wall that isn’t surrounded by fire. Standing back, I run at the wall, thrusting the end of the broom into the wall. It easily makes a small hole, probably from the weakened structure. I grab at the hole, tearing at it. Repeatedly I slam into the wall until there’s a small hole.
“What are you waiting for? Go!” I shout to everyone. People rush towards it, climbing out of the room. I watch the fire grow closer to the only escape.
When everyone’s out, I look around. The room is deserted, except for Valerie, my dad, and I.
“No!” Valerie shouts. I turn, to see the flames engulfing the hole in the wall I’d made. My heart seems to sink, as it covers the hole with orange-red flames of heat.
“We’ll find another way out!” I shout, reassuringly. But I myself am not reassured. The odds of us getting out of here aren’t good.
But before any of us can do anything, part of the ceiling collapses. I scream, running and tumbling to the floor, covering my head. The smoke seems to choke me, even down here. I cough, as bits of the building fall on me.
When the rubble is done falling, I sit up cautiously. Blinking, I squint through the smoke and dust. My father’s at the other end of the room, looking dirty but okay. But where’s Valerie?
“Kayla…Kayla….Daddy,” my older sister coughs. I run forwards, suddenly seeing where my sister is. She’s trapped under the rubble that fell down.
“Oh my gosh, Val are you okay?” I whisper, taking her dirty hand in mine. Valerie looks at me, and from that one look, I can see the sadness behind her brown eyes.
“My leg,” she whispers, her voice hardly audible. “I don’t think I can move it.”
Valerie bites her thin pink lip, her eyes watery. “Look, Kayla, don’t worry about me. Go. Take daddy out of here. Go.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I say defiantly, crossing my arms. “I came to save you and dad Valerie.”
“We’re going to have to leave her,” my father whispers, touching my arm gently. “If she can’t walk, she’ll only slow us down. We don’t have time Kayla. It could be a matter of minutes before this building collapses.
Suddenly, a part of the floor not too far away caves in. I look at it from afar, and spot flames starting to lick the sides from down below. This could be the only chance.
“Go dad,” I say hurriedly, standing up and shoving him roughly towards the hole. “Please don’t argue and make this harder than it has to be,” I breathe. “Go dad. Now.”
“Kayla..”
“Go!” I shout, throwing my arms around my dad. “I love you dad. You’ve got to go or all three of us are going to burn.”
My dad starts to protest, but I shove him. He falls through the hole, landing awkwardly on the floor below.
“Here!” I throw him down the mop, and it clatters on the black scorched floor below. “Take this for the stairs. Find a staircase that’s intact. Get out of here. Beware of the elevators- one almost fell on me. Be safe.” I pause, my eyes watering. “And tell mom I love her.”
My dad just stares at me. But finally he leaves. I run back over to my sister, collapsing on the floor beside her.
“Go,” Valerie whispers, her voice hoarse. “Go now Kayla. Please.”
“Val, no. I’m not leaving you.”
“You’re being ridiculous is what you’re being!” Valerie screams. “There is no way I’m going to get out of here. But you can save yourself Kayla! Go sis! For me.” Tears streak down her face. Carefully, I push some of the rubble off of her, a lump in my throat.
“Alright. I’ll go,” I whisper. “But I love you Valerie.”
“Love you too,” she says with urgency. “But you’d better go, or soon there won’t be an exit.”
I nod, looking at the hole in the floor. The fire’s starting to engulf it, but there’s still a little space.
“Goodbye Valerie,” I mutter, not wanting my sister’s life to end.
“Tell mom and dad that we’ll meet again someday. In Heaven,” she whispers. “Now go.”
I nod, and before the flames engulf the only escape, I jump through the narrow hole, landing on the hard floor below.
This room is burning too, but the door’s not on fire, which I thank God silently for. I run to it, heading through it and into the hallway. Coughing, I try and rid my nose of the scent of smoke, but I can’t. It’s in my nose, forever implanting it’s horrid scent.
I run down the hallway, avoiding major piles of rubble, and holes in the floor. The ceiling starts to collapse behind me as I run. Burning pieces of debris fall down behind me. I’m in the crossfire.
I reach the stairs, realizing that no stairs are intact. But if I don’t jump, I’m going to be buried beneath the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I leap off of the staircase.
I land hard on the floor below, my knee screaming in pain. I just manage to roll out of the way as the ceiling from the above floor completely collapses, some of the debris falling down the nonexistent staircase. Up ahead, I see my father, looking down at something.
“Dad!” I scream, running across the ruined floor towards him.
He cries when he sees me. I can see in his face that he’s lost hope though. Hope for getting out alive.
“The floor below…the ceiling has completely collapsed sweet-pie. I don’t know how we’re going to get down…the staircase has collapsed too…”
I glance around wildly, realizing a fire is spreading across this floor, coming towards us. “We’ve gotta jump dad. We can crawl across the rubble. It’s the only way we can go.”
My father agrees. “Alright,” he whispers, and he jumps down, falling to the floor below. “Come on!” he shouts, holding the mop. I take a deep breath, jumping. My father catches me, and we turn to face the rubble ahead of us.
“Come on. Follow me,” I say. Getting on my hands and knees, I start to crawl forwards, coughing. Shards of glass cut into my hands, make ragged holes in my jeans and shirt. I’m left bleeding, but I don’t care. As long as we can get out of here in one piece.
Somehow, we manage to sift through all the rubble, to the next staircase which is partially intact. We hurried head down it, to the next floor. Fires are burning here also, but this floor is in the best condition from the ones we’ve seen.
“Elevator!” I shout, pointing at the scorched dirty elevator.
“It’s too dangerous!”
“It’s our only way out of here!” I remind him quickly, nodding at the staircase. Flames dance happily, blocking the way. “Come on,” I say, grabbing my father’s hand and yanking him towards the elevator. We have to pry the door open. Once inside, I press the first floor.
The elevator’s lights are off. It slowly descends, creaking and rocking. My heart’s thumping, because I know at any minute, it could plummet, bringing us to our death. Nervously, I watch the floor numbers go by. Fifty…forty….thirty….twenty….ten…..
“We’re almost at the bottom!” my father shouts as we reach the six floor. I nod, but my heart still seems to be with Valerie, alone on the seventy-fifth floor, waiting for her death.
The elevator reaches the second floor before stopping. Nervously, I stick my fingers in the gap and yank it open. We hurry out, onto the second floor. Rubble, dust, and dirt decorate the semi-scorched tiles, and a few fires burn, but this floor seems in fairly good condition. We run to the stairs, just as the ceiling starts to cave in. The building is collapsing on itself. Just like the South Tower did half-an-hour ago.
“Oh my gosh, it’s collapsing!” I scream to my father on the staircase, my heart pumping with adrenaline. My eyes water, for my sister, but I know that if I don’t get out alive, leaving her would have been for nothing. She wants me to live.
“Come on!” I screech, grabbing my father’s hand. He’s stand there, staring nervously into space. I punch him lightly in the stomach, knowing only pain will bring him out of his trance-like-state.
“Ow!” my father complains. The floor is giving. I feel the building shake.
“COME ON!” I scream, yanking him down the rest of the staircase. We bolt down the hallway, to the staircase. Avoiding the rubble, I start down the staircase.
The ceiling starts to collapse behind us. Throwing our arms over our heads, we bolt down the rest of the staircase. Shards of glass and pieces of building rains down on us. The building creaks.
“It’s gonna fall!” I scream, throwing my shoulder heavily against the glass double doors. Holding onto my father’s hand tightly, I give one more shove. The door budges, and we run out onto the pavement, into the morning air.
I yank my father back, but we’re not far enough away from the building. I pull him back, staring up in awe as the top gives way. Slowly, it starts to fall, crushing the stories. Tears streak down my face. This is it. My sister’s in there.
Slowly it falls, silently, as if in a last salute. And then it hits the ground. Smoke, dust, rubble- it’s everywhere. I’m falling to the pavement, still holding my father’s warm hand. And then our hands lose connection. I cry out- I scream- but only dust and smoke fill my mouth, taking the words away from me. I half-heartedly throw my hands over my head, as debris cuts into my already bruised up arms. Ash rains down on us. I feel like the world is turning, tilting, twisting beneath me. I can’t get a grip on everything.
When I open my eyes, I can’t see anything. Smoke and dust hang so thickly over the ground that it’s impossible to see anything. I cough, the smoke become irritating to me now. It’s all I can smell. The scent of something destructive. Fire.
Everything else seems to be a blur. Seconds blurring into minutes, hours. My legs are buried under rubble, but they feel okay.
Next thing I know, a hand is on my arm. I look around. I’m confused. My heart feels torn. Depression seems to hit me full force. Devastation.
“Honey, we need you to come with us,” a police officer says, his eyes shining with sorrow. His voice seems distant- blurred.
“My daddy,” I whisper, my head spinning, my vision blurring. “I’m not leaving my daddy.”
“We’re taking you and you’re daddy home. To your house.”
“No. My sister,” I complain, not wanting to go. “The Towers. My sister.”
The police officer doesn’t speak. Instead, he picks me up softly, carrying me to a police car. But I’m solitary in there. My father isn’t there. I’m alone. They shut the door, and coolness washes over me. The smell of leather wafts to me, but the unmistakable smell of smoke is still present and strong.
Sadness suddenly hits me. I scream, tears rolling down my face, pounding against the door. But it won’t budge. My hands become sore, repeatedly smacking the door. It’s no use. I watch in tears as two police men hop into the front of the car. The car rumbles to life. I scream again, my heart tearing. I start pounding against the windows, in hope they’ll break. I want to be with the destruction. My sister.
One of the police-men hops out of front, opening my door. I pause, tears dripping off my face. “Calm down sweetie. You’re going to be okay,” he whispers.
I just sit there for a moment, before I throw myself forwards. I knock the police man aside, and I run as fast as I can toward the destruction. I push through crowds of people crying, and launch myself into the rubble. I fall heavily onto it, pieces cutting into my already bleeding and slightly burnt arms. I begin to crawl through the rubble, pushing through the shards of glass, and not caring if I get cut. I stumble down a large pile, debris clawing up my clothes.
Rough hands grab my arms. I scream, kicking, as a police officer grabs me in his tight grip, and carries me away from the fallen Towers. I kick and scream and cry, my eyes glued on the large mess. But it’s no use. He’s not letting me go.
I’m put back in the car, buckled in tightly. The doors are locked. The car buzzes to life. And then we’re off, driving away from the burning mess. I watch it disappear until I can’t see it anymore.
Talking. I can hear the two officers talking to each other, even through the separating wall.
“She’s gone into hysteria,” I hear one of them mumble in an undertone. “She must’ve lost someone when it fell. Her sister, I think.”
“She was the one that ran into the North Tower though. She must’ve saved someone. You’ve gotta admit- she’s pretty smart for getting out of there alive. And caring.”
“The girl will never be the same though. Look at her now. Her mind is going to be messed up. She’s scarred physically. Not to mention emotionally.”
I take a deep breath, drawing myself up. I’ll show them I’ll be okay.
Finally, after a short drive, the police car stops. The door opens slowly, but I don’t charge the officer. “Come on out,” he says gently.
Slowly, I slide out of the car. My arms are bleeding, and slightly charred from the fire. My clothes are torn and ragged, with wide-gaping holes in them. Not to mention black. My hair’s a mess, ash sticking throughout it. Dust seems to cling to me, and my hands are shaking. I know I’m a mess. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
“My baby!” my mother screams, flinging herself at me. I break into sobs in her arms, blood starting to dry on mine.
“We can take her to the hospital right now if you’d like,” one officer mumbles. “Get her fixed up.”
I shake my head, watching another police car pull up. “I’m fine,” I say, my voice shaking slightly.
My father comes shaking out of the car, his face scarred, his arms bleeding. There’s a large gash on his forehead, and his clothes are black with soot and ash. I want to cry all over again. But I’ve got to stay strong. I realize that if I continue to cry and go insane over my sister, it would basically be the same as dying in the Tower.
“I’m proud of you Kayla,” my father whispers. “I’m proud of you for coming up just to save us. You risked your life. And…I seriously thought you were going to stay with Valerie to die. I prayed to God you didn’t though.” He takes a moment to collect himself, tears rolling down his face. “I-I love you Kayla.”
I embrace my father in a hug. “Valerie wanted me to tell you guys that she’ll see you in Heaven. Someday.” I lick my lips, still smelling smoke. I bite my lip, not able to hold back the tears any longer.
9/11/01 will forever be etched in my memory. But I will continue to live despite the loss of my sister, Valerie.
Because we are united as one. We all America. And the terrorists can never take away our friendship, our pride, or our American Spirit.
