I look around me and all I see are silhouettes of people. My eyes start to sting and can barely see anything. I rub out the sand from them, but my eyes just get more irritated. Using my scratched throat, I yell while trying to ignore the excruciating pain. Small squeaks leave my mouth. With the strong wind, it is as if I had never made a sound. I move my arms trying to get the attention of one of the silhouettes, but as soon as I pick them up, pain shoots through my whole body. My arms start bleeding again. The wounds that were once closed are now open letting the sharp sand cover them up like painful Band-Aids.

The wind picks me up and I become like a grain of sand. I lose my sense of direction as I fly. My body is in survival mode, but both my mind and heart want to give up. Nobody can see me, so why bother putting up a fight I cannot win. This will end with death either way. I close my eyes and let the wind take full control of my body.