Destruction. Disaster. Death. A typical fall day gone wrong. The ground was covered with ashes and leaves and smoke and before anyone knew what was happening a cacophony of sirens fills the air. I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I stumble around trying to obtain the right footing, but I begin to trip because I can’t see the floor. I fumble for my phone and try to call 911, but no one answers. I think to myself, “just a little farther and maybe you can find help”.

The sirens grow louder and my hope ameliorates. Hundreds of firefighters, police officers, and rescue team members begin to arrive on the scene and I call out for help with every fiber of my being. All I can see now are blinking lights and all I can hear are screams. Something falls from the sky and suddenly I’m trapped. My leg is in excruciating pain, but luckily I can still continue to call out for help. Finally, someone comes close enough to hear me. It’s is a man about 30 years old, he has dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. I will never forget those eyes. Those were the eyes that told me everything would be okay even if it wasn’t yet. The man struggled to break me free from the mass on top of me. He tried from every angle but he couldn’t do it by himself he needed more help. Someone comes to help us, but then the second tower goes down.

The second rescuer says he’ll be right back and that he has to go check on the status of the current situation. I’m in extreme pain and green eyes tries to comfort me, telling me it will all be okay. We wait thirty more minutes and someone new comes to help us. This man has blonde hair and kind blue eyes. He motions to another rescuer and with the help of the firefighters they are able to break me free.  I know I am not a priority as they tag me with a green colored sticker, but that’s not important. I think to myself, “I may have two broken legs, but I’m alive and that’s all that matters”. I will never forget that feeling of relief when I was put in an ambulance that day.

It took 12 seconds for the towers to fall and 2,996 people died that fateful September day, but thankfully I was not one of them. I had lain right in the middle of the 1.6 billion tons of debris that was left that fateful September day. It was the deadliest day in history for the New York city firefighters who helped get me out alive: 343 were killed. On September 11th, 2001, a strong, prosperous nation took a bullet to the heart and was left with a deep mortal wound. This catastrophic event changed America forever.