September 11, 2001.

Since the 12th anniversary of the tragedy, 9/11 is just about five days away, I decided to write this book to make you feel what it was like for all of the people who died, or survived to tell their story about their amazing adventure. (C)

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6. Chapter Four

Chapter Four. 

 

"Happy birthday to you. Cha-cha-cha. 

Happy birthday to you. Cha-cha-cha. 

Happy birthday dear Tommy. Happy birthday to you!" 

Tom's eyes closed and he leaned into the cake. 

"One..two..three," Tom counted with a smile. Once he got to three, he blew the candles. They immidiately burned out. Tom and Steven's family cheered at their five year old son who had finally been able to blow out his own candle. 


Steven and Tom were sat on the swing outside on the front porch of Tom's house stuffing their faces with cake while watching the bright stars above. 

"Steven," Tom whispered with a mouthful of cake frost. 

"Yes?" Steven gulped down the last bit of his slice of cake. 

"I kind of regret what I wished for.." Tom looked up at the sky with a tormented look and then turned to his friend. 

"What'd you wish for?" Steven asked worriedly.

"I wished I was dead. Do you know how it broke me to have had everyone clap and cheer for that?" He played with fingertips, staring at the ground. 

"Why did you wish that?" Steven asked confused.

"I'm fat. Nobody wants me alive. At school everyone bullies me," a tear rolled down his cheek and he took a glance at the stars. 

"Its just so hard..." He pulled up his sleeve and showed his wrist to his friend. Steven gasped at the sight of his whole arm covered in cuts, swollen, and dried up blood made it even worse. 

"You're fine just the way you are Tom," Steven patted his back. 

"Thanks," Tom sniffled. 

 


Steven bolted up on the sqeaky bed. Tears filled the brim of his eyes, his breathes were quickened and short. 

It was just a dream, but still true. 

Tom would get bullied in sixth grade and seventh all the time, and self harmed or like he tried twice. Commit suicide. Steven shuddered at the memory.


The heart moniter returned to its normal repeatedly melody. 

Beep,
Beep, 
Beeeep. 

Beep, 
Beep, 
Beeeep. 

Beep, 
Beep, 
Beeeep. 


The doctor came in and checked his temperature, sight, and all of the minor check ups. 

"It seems that you're fine. We already called your parents, they're on their way over," the doctor informed. 

"What about Tom?" Steven's voice croaked. 

"Well what about him?" The doctor turned to look at him with an amused face. 

"Where is he?" Steven was desperate for answers. He needed to know. 

"Son, you're parents will give you any information you need. But just not me. I don't know how to tell you. I don't want to either," the doctor without another word, leaving Steven confused and lonely.

'Things must not be very good,' he thought. 

 

 

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