Tuesday {The Manhattan Trilogy #1}

Falling (NT)

I saw it all, and it will forever haunt me. South Tower screaming my entire name as her last words, collapsing so quick that she was dead before she hit the ground, her hand reaching out towards me, trying to hold my hand as she was engulfed in a cloud of dark gray dust. Her eyes closing slowly as she breathed her last breath. Our severely grieving father holding her, singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to her, placing a rose in her hand.

Dad is gone now. He went back to his café to at least try to continue working, although there are surely not many customers still eating and drinking there. I walk over to my sister's dead body and sink slowly to my knees next to it. Tears begin to fall from my silver eyes, staining her gray outfit that I always told her made her look like a professional businesswoman when she put it on. I brush my twin's hair from her still face and tuck it behind her small ears. South Tower has fallen, and she isn't coming back.

"You were the best sister ever," I whisper to her. "I know you can't hear me, but...I miss you so much. In life, you were not only my sister, but you were my best friend as well. Nothing is better than having a twin in my opinion. It is something I will always miss."

Obviously, she doesn't respond to my sentiments at all. I hold her free hand with both of mine and stare hard at the Hudson River, which is calmer than all of New York City right now. However, although the waters are mostly undisturbed, its people are certainly not. Boats with hundreds of evacuees speed rapidly back and forth between the boroughs of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Staten Island, trying to rescue people from this chaotic mess.

"God damn, young kid, are you by any chance the North Tower of the World Trade Center?"

I jump up at the man's shout, doing a complete 360-degree turn in the process. An olive-skinned policeman with a light brown mustache is staring right at me, standing totally still. He stands about twenty feet away from me, his loud, commanding voice slightly inaudible due to the strong wind created by the dust. He is using his shirt to prevent his nose and mouth from inhaling the toxic ash that constantly blows around us.

"Y-yes, sir," I say meekly. "I most certainly am. This girl on the floor is my sister, South Tower. I'm just here because she died."

"We need to bring you to a hospital," he gasps, running over to me and gesturing to my plane wound. "You are severely injured. I can literally see your heart beating. There is no way you can survive something like this."

"I can't," I protest. I gesture to my dead sister on the ground and add, "If she's going down today, than so am I. I refuse to be an only twin. Please, sir, just let me go. I want to be with my sister again."

"Good luck, then," the officer squeezes my shoulder, looks me straight in the eye, and sprints off into one of the other WTC buildings to make sure that everyone is evacuating it.

I think about how true my words are about being reunited with my sister. My twin sister was hit by a plane second but fell before I did, only lasting fifty-six minutes with her injury before she died. If she was hit after me but went down before me, that means I'll probably be collapsing in no time. After all, it has been precisely one hundred and two minutes since I was hit.

Maybe I'll be collapsing now.

I feel it instantly. My stomach seems to tighten and shrink to the size of an apple. I'm seeing double. My dry throat begs for water. I try to focus on my surroundings, but it's impossible. I have a strong sensation of nausea as I wobble around, trying to walk to safety. But where am I going? To Dad? To my sister? Back home? I am delirious.

My legs buckle. I cry out as my vision begins to fade.

Falling, falling, falling.

All goes dark.