"Do you remember much from the attack? We're about to film this so....would you like to introduce yourself?" The interview man asks me.
I shudder, it has been 6 weeks since the attack. September 11, 2001 was the day that I had been- we all had been- attacked. Now attacked..Not attacked by a dog, or a bee-of course not. That was the day The terrorists decided they wanted to kill us all. That's not the only day they wanted to kill us, they have always wanted to kill us.
I sit up in my chair fighting back the tears.
"My name is Celia Miller. I am 24 years old and I am a survivor of the 9/11."
The interviewer flips his note paper to a new page for a fresh interview. He continues to scribble down information.
"Okay Celia, tell me about your story. How did you manage to survive? What were your struggles? What was the floor you were on?"
I open my mouth to speak, but then I stop. I stop to ponder for a minute.
"I survived by keeping a wet cloth on my mouth. I also provided for others in my Publisher business-yes I had a publishing business." I pause to take a sip of water that lie right next to the box of tissues he provided.
"My struggles..oh well-er-um-you see I lost many friends in the building. Breathing was hard too. There was a way to get through...Keep your eyes closed, keep the cloth on, and wait for help. I also struggled watching...my friends jump out the window." I shudder.
The interviewer guy scribbles some more things down, pushes up his glasses and looks up at me.
"Any special friend in particular?" He asks.
I look down at my feet. This is too deep for me. I can't answer!
Reluctant, I look back up.
"What was he/she's name?"
I gulp and glance at the tissue box and pull it closer.
Now I am holding the Tissue box.
"Let me start from the beginning."