"All we need is your story." The CNN lady said to me, passing out a peice of notebook paper to the thirty others next to me.
I looked down at the paper with my pencil trembling in my hands.
"Sandreth Cuine- 9.11 Survivor.
I was there- in the second tower- the South one. I was working up on the 88th floor; only one or two floor below where the plane crashed. When we got word- when I saw- the north tower fall, we all rushed out. I got pushed, pulled, battered and bruised, feeling the utmost pity for the few who had fallen and had gotten trampled.
As soon as we got out, were faced with the black, ash-heavy and smoke twisted air, we were told immediately to go back up to the tower- it was safe, and free from toxins.
I never even saw the plane crash into the building. But the noise it created! It caused most of my hearing problems, if not all of it.
I paused, hand shaking and tears freely falling. One fell onto the paper. Without thinking I traced it's perfect pattern, making a tear in the middle of a sentence.
"The plane came only a few floors above me, making most of the roof cave in and crash over my head. I didn't think twice about my bleeding head- I only could think about escaping. I felt nothing at that moment; only the ash, the pressure from the crowd, the clogging of the stairs. Around the 50th floor, most of us knew that, between the air that lie ahead and the toppling of the towers, we weren't going to make it. I looked at that very moment at the person next to me. I can still remember her chilly, ice blue eyes. I felt her hand grabbing mine and she whispered in my ear : 'Tell them I love them'. By that time, my tears knew no bounds. I nodded to her; I've never been sure if she saw me nod. She grabbed the hand of the person on her other side, and I did the same. Not long after, we had and at least fifty person long chain.
We were somewhere around the 20th floor- I had stopped counting long ago- when the lady to my left, the one who gave me the message, tripped. I screamed, but it got lost in the twirling chaos that was this building. I couldn't keep her hand secured, and with one last, unheard scream, I completely let go of her. I grabbed the hand of the other person who was next to her, and muttered a prayer.
The light itself nearly blinded me- we had lost power in the building almost immediately after the impact. I remember, right then, I tripped. As I got outside. I remember the cruel twisting of my ankle when it got caught in a hole- and I remember the arms that grabbed me. 'It'll be alright, I've got you,' the voice had said. Someone cradled me like a baby- a man in a tucked in white shirt, black suit pants, and a red plaid tie. The man put me on my feet with a nod and ran backwards. I could almost imagine him being one of the many heroes memorial pictures lined up on a wall of many. I remember not much else but the harsh cry of a million sirens and the inferno of pain spiraling trough my leg with every fidget. I somehow made it about a mile from the place, where there was a police car busting it's way through the masses. It pulled up next to me and a harsh police officer's voice cried, 'We're going to the hospital.' I got it the crowded car, along with two smaller girls with severe burns who sat on my lap. But the only thing I remember was my 20th floor Unheard Scream in the building- for my life, for everyone else's life, and the death of the savages who had caused this. My Unheard Scream- and the Unheard Screams of many others. But together we made a wail- a powerful, ear-splitting wail that could never die."
