As I walked down the New York City streets, I inhaled the essence of the world around me. There were close to no clouds in the sky, and the sun beamed down brightly from above. People stood impatiently, waiting for one of the rushing taxi cabs to slow down for them so they could continue to their destination. Cars swerved lanes and honked annoyingly at each other like they did every single day. I continued to walk along the crowded sidewalk. Faceless people scurried past me, talking away on their flip phones.

The city was not a new site to me. I had lived here my entire life. I knew the amount of seconds it took before the traffic lights changed from red to green. I understood why it was not a good idea to make eye contact with marketing salesmen when I was in a hurry just trying to get to work. I knew to leave home early when I planned on walking. It was a day like any other. The walk to work was memorized in the back of my head, and I arrived there at the exact same time. 8:17 am. Merely an hour before it happened, and nobody had a clue. It was just another day in life. Nothing stood out of place.

I walked into the building to be greeted by my co-worker, Karen. Her perfectly straightened brown hair sat effortlessly on her shoulders, and she had a cup of coffee waiting for me at my desk.

“You’re a life saver!” I laughed, picking up the plastic cup and taking a sip. She nodded her head with a smile.
“It’s the least I could do for you,” She rolled her eyes sarcastically, and giggles escaped our mouths.

Working in a bank  was not a particularly fun job, but I never really minded it. Most days were full of paperwork and contract signings. I sat at my desk, taking in a deep breath of air before I had to bury  myself in work. My eyes wandered to the window that displayed the breath taking view of the city. My office was on the 81st floor of the building, and the view took away my breath every time I studied the world that carried on below. Windows filled the entire wall, and I understood why they called it a skyscraper. It tore through the sky, hovering over the smaller buildings as if acknowledging that it’s presence was stunning. I suppose that’s why they built not only one, but two of them.

I tapped my pen against my desk, sitting bored when I really should have been calling clients. A thick television hung in the corner of the room, Fox News Channel carrying on quietly, as if it were only on to fill the silence of the room. I closed my eyes for a moment of relaxation, when I felt a loud screech and rumble shake the building slightly. I rolled my eyes, annoyed at the disturbance.  Damn construction workers were probably at it again. I snapped out of my trance and looked down back at my paperwork. Name: Alison Mathers. Date: September 11th, 2001. I continued writing until I heard whispered conversation spread throughout the floor of the building.
“Shh, keep your voices down,” Sam, a coworker of mine whispered. “We don’t know anything yet. We don’t want to frighten anyone.”

Anxiety arose inside me, and my stomach churned. The thought of something going on did not frighten  me until I heard the secretive tone in his shaking voice. Something was not right. I glanced around my office cautiously, looking for signs of knowing. Betsy, the secretive, was hunched over behind her desk, trying to hide the tears streaming down her face.I felt the urge to comfort her, despite the fact that we had maybe exchanged a few conversations the past five years. I ran my hands over my skirt over and over again, straightening out any wrinkles in the fabric as I awaited an explanation. The room was no longer a place of work but whispering groups of concerned faces. I glanced at the manual clock that hung up by the window. 8:54 am. Crossing my arms, I spun my chair to face the window. Something felt different. I stood, walking over as I examined the city. Cars were not honking, birds were not soaring in the air, people were not rushing to and from the building impatiently. Everything below was still; everything was frozen. Scrunching my eyebrows, I squinted my eyes and looked closer. I saw black smoke drifting away from our building. It couldn’t of been us; we would have been evacuated already if there was something was wrong with our building. Right? I turned around to ask about the smoke to be welcomed by the sight of dozens of workers crowded around the small television. I squinted my eyes at the channel to read the News Headline.

It read, “Plane hits North Tower of World Trade Center.” My heart drops, suddenly feeling for the people in the next building. Those people must be so terrified. Tears sprung in my eyes, frightened for the people who I barely knew that could be dying merely next door to me.

“Are they evacuating?” I started to ask, when I heard a screaming crash above. The building shook, and I was thrown to the ground from my standing position. Shrieks and cries filled the entire building, and the desperate voices throbbed in my ears. Tears flowed incessantly from my eyes, as my lungs gasped for air.

“Is everyone okay?” I heard Sam shout, over the hundreds of voices that were flooding the floor. I nodded, my eyes wide as a stream of blood dripped down the side of my face. I lifted my hand to my face, trying to find a source of the wound, but I could not feel anything. I was numb, shaking uncontrollably from the fear. The clock read 9:05 am.

  Steadily, I regained my balance and stood. I looked around frantically, as smoke rolled into the room in dragged waves. I took a deep breath, choking from the ash that encompassed my lungs so harshly. My eyes stung strongly as they filled with floating debris. People were screaming and crying for help. It had to be on the way, it had to be. A few men were trying to reach the stairs, but fire had bounded us inside. A dark liquid dripped from the ceiling and burnt right through the floor. Somebody started shouting, saying that it was the plane’s fuel. What plane? I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if the fire reached it. The ceilings rumbled, and shrieks tore my ear drums when god knows what collapsed. The cries and sobs grew louder, but my mind was throbbing in silence. My hair was white with ash, and holes had torn through my clothes from my fall. I couldn’t focus and attempt to help the wounded people that had collapsed on the office ground. I couldn’t pay attention to the full grown men that were crying on the phone with their wives, telling them goodbye. All I could think was that I was suffocating.

A loud shatter pierced my ears, causing me to jump and cry out loudly. I turned to see panicking people smashing office chairs into the windows, breaking the fragile glass that kept us in. Why were they doing this? We were hundreds of feet in the air. A gust of wind rushed through from the open spaces now on the wall, teasing us with the freedom outside. Miniscule shards of glass and debris whipped my face, and I held my arms in front to protect myself. Help had to be on the way. It had to be. I crawled towards the gaping hole that led to the world outside. My hands and knees scraped against glass and broken pieces of the unknown, but I kept going forward. I needed air. It felt as if the smoke had reached in and grasped my lungs in it’s grip, smothering them until there was no evidence of oxygen. I continued slowly but surely, until I was at the window’s edge. I grasped the wall beside me firmly, so I would not fall. Closing my stinging eyes, I took short, quick breaths of air to assure my lungs they were not literally on fire.

I hear a sniffle, and loud sob beside me. Opening my eyes, I turn to see Karen. She is almost unrecognizable. Her eyes are glazed over with tears, and seem to be unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds.
“Alison,” She sobs loudly to me, her desperate face losing hope. Her eyes meet mine. “I can’t burn. I can’t die like this.” I try to stay calm for her, because this was not the Karen I knew.

“It’s okay, we just need to wait. Help is on the way,” I start, but she interrupts me.

“No,” She cries out, throwing her arms in the air. “Help is not on the way. They aren’t coming for us, don’t you see?” She starts sobbing once again, and points below.

I look down, and she is right. Dozens of fire trucks and police cars are scattered like ants below, but nobody seems to be making a move. Firefighters and pedestrians stand in groups and chatter. Do they not see us crying for them to save us? My stomach churns, and I suddenly feel nauseous. I glance back at Karen to see her rising to a standing position. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she is quietly whispering to herself. I lean forward to hear few of her words to realize that she is praying. My heart stops and my eyes widen when I understand what she is going to do.

“KAREN,” I scream, reaching out for her the exact moment that she jumps. I can’t bring myself to look down as she falls, because her fatal fate is inevitable from this high up. Tears incessantly fall from my eyes as my chest excruciatingly tightens. I gasp for air, but there is not enough for my collapsing lungs. I am running out of time.
Business men who I have worked with for years begin to line up at the edge, ready to jump. Fear shakes my core, and I grip the wall tightly as helpless sobs escape my mouth. The wind blows in my ears loudly, begging for me to join the sky instead of staying with the hell growing inside the building.  I desperately glance back down when realization slaps away the denial I had been gripping. My heart drops as hopelessness rolls into me. We aren’t going to be saved. Help isn’t coming.