xbehindtheseeyesx

Fallen.

Chapter 2



 

Present Day


My father once told me;
Never be afraid.  Anyone who is afraid all of the time should be dead. Any one who is afraid all of the time has completly forgotten the purpose to life; to live.
Therefore; i wasnt afraid.  I was not afraid of those terrorists who had taken my fathers life; I simply hated them.  If I could, i would go and strangle each and every one of them.  Watch the light of life leave their eyes just as they had killed my father.
It's almost a shame that they died that day along with the the planes. 
They deserved a far more terrible death; for they had cost the lives of hundreds. 
I don't even know how they did that.  Do they have no concince?  It's horrible enough to just take the lives of the people on the planes, or those in the towers, but what about the families?  They were completly torn apart.  A life without a loved one is no life at all.
As mentioned, I'm not afraid.  I was at the time, yes, but then again I was only six.  I believe that everyone in the city of New York-heck- I think everyone in the world was terrified, wondering when the terrorisits would strike next. 
Many believe that I was too young to remember now the exact details, but that's jus something i could never forgett.  For years, I would wake up sweating, shaking and screaming, sometimes even crying form nightmares of what went down that warm september day, but i would have to swollow it up and hide away my emotions.  Even as a six year old, I had to learn incredible strength and maturity far beyound my years in order to be there to support my mother.  Following my father's death, my mother completly fell apart.
I can't blame her.  Or atleast i couldn't at the time.
My mother had to pick up a second job, both waitressing, to attempt to support our small family.  I begun work at the age of nine, being the paper girl for my small yet densely crowded community.  I hopped from job to job, trying to pool my money with my mothers to     provide with simple things such as rent money and food on the table.
Once again, I was not afraid, but fear is very different form self pitty.  My father never told me not to pitty myslef, he never had time to. That was something I had to learn myself.  Do you truely believe that it was easy growing up without my father?  But I had to forgett all of that.  Dismiss my pain and sufering... there's no room for that in a life where you need to support yourself.


 
      I was not afraid of those terrorists who had taken my fathers life; I simply hated them.      

Fallen.

Chapter 1




 

september 11, 2001


I was sitting in my classroom when it happened.
My school's principal burst into my first grade classroom.  Her black mascara was leaking down her face in long streaks that almost reached her chin.  She fiantly whispered something into my teachers ear.  
The two of them just stood there, sobbing silently in eachothers company.
Before I knew it, us children were being rushed from the building and into our homes.
My mother was watching the news alone in the living room.  She wouldn't let me in, she wouldn't tell me what was going on. I was afraid.  Afraid of the un-known, afraid of the mourning, afraid of the confusion. 
All I knew was the fear.
The fear, and the tears.
My father never came home that night.  He didn't came home the next night, or the next one, or the one after that. 
My mother fell asleep on the couch that night, leaving the television on.  My scrawny, seven year old body, leapt gracefuly yet silently down the stairs, and took a peak at the television screen.
What i saw was devastating.  Two large airplanes came flying towards the ground at a remarkable speed.  The pilots seemed to have no reign over thier machiens as they spun and tipped out of controll.  They were about to crash on the ground when another object came into veiw. 
Two resolute twins stood firmly, side by side, grazing the bright morning sky.  I recognized those buildings, one of which held my fathers place of work.  The two skyscrapers, known as the twin towers, were hit, and knocked down, by the planes. 
I watched the video of chaos breaking through.
Fires broke out along with panic amungst the innocent bystanders.
I watched in terror, suddenly realizing why my father never returned home form work today.
I walked over from my hiding spot on the stairs and silently turned off the television. Not caring if my mother saw me or not, i sat on the ground at her feet and wept.  I wept for the towers and my father.
 

          miror, miror