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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5. Chapter Three

Chapter Three. 

 

Twenty floors more, Steven was out of breathe, heart beating incredibly fast, and his poor body was drenched from sweat. He made his way to an office door, pushing his numb body forward, even though he felt as if he were about to burf or pass out in any second. 

His ears perked up as he heard a muffled scream. His hopes to find his bestfriend rose and he ran down the hall wildly swinging open every door. Trying to find the room where the screams were coming from. 

"Tom!" He swung open a door at the end of the hall. 

Steven's eyes widened as he stared at the roaring flames before him. The yelps of a person filled his ears as he froze in place. To him it was all a nightmare. He wished he would just be able to pinch himself and wake up in his nice, comfy bed. But this was his reality. Maybe his destiny was to die in here. 


*Minutes Before* 

Tom had given up. He had been searching the hundredth floor and above for his father until he finally just gave up. His heart ached for an answers. 

'What is happening?' 

'Will I ever see my dad again?' 

'Is Steven okay?' 

His body trembled at the thought of Steven being hurt. This was Tom's fault, he had been stupid enough to think he could be Superman and save his dad. 

He rushed down the stairs at a loud sound of things falling. Outside a small window by the flight of stairs, rocks were falling past the glass and the air was full of smoke. 

Tom hurried his pace up. Fear ran through his veins as he ran and ran in full speed down the stairs. 

He huffed and puffed as he walked down a hall with his head and shoulders hung low. He didn't know where to go or what to do. It was as if he were being controlled. Somehow in his soul, he knew something very well. 

This was it. 


*Present Time* 

Tom stared at his friend who was stood in front of the door looking at the burning flames in horror. He tried to call out for him, but his throat was extremely dry. He tried clapping also, but his hands were numb and wouldn't move. His eyelids felt heavy as he tried to speak to Steven. But only yelps and groans would come out of his dried, cracked, lips. 

Steven spot a figure next to the back wall. The person was curled up on the floor, knees up to its chest and arms wrapped around them. His heart skipped a beat as he searched around for a way to make his way to the person. 

'This way. No that way.' 

Every way seemed impossible. Fire blocked every route leading to the person. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. 

'Please God, just help me.' 

Tears filled his eyes as the fire grew making his cheeks rosier and the sweat on his body stickier. 

"Boy, get out of here!" Steven was pushed back by a police officer and unintentionally thrown to the stairs. 

"Run mate, run downstairs and go home!" Another officer barged in and ordered Steven. 

He stared back at the two with tears streaming down his face like a salty waterfall. 

'How can I leave Tom?' 

He asked again and again in his mind. 

"Okay, but please help him," he pointed at the figure lying now unconscious. The first officer nodded, but the second officer gave Steven an uneasy smile. 

Steven's run-to-safety instinct kicked in and his legs moved by their own selves once more. 

~*~ 

Steven was took to a hospital down about five blocks from the towers. He lay on the white hospital sheets tapping his fingers on the bedside table. His heart urged for answers. 

He needed to know what had happened. 

 

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