My first instinct is to run inside the school, the bell just starting to ring. Pretend I was never late as I huddle within the safety of the masses of classmates.

But then I see cracks on the walls as I get up and try to keep my balance. Looks like going to school isn’t a good idea.

I started running the first thought I can think of: Away. Away from any buildings. Just for some open ground, where there’ll be nothing to fall down on me.

In a city, it isn’t easy. Luckily, there is some bare ground-a hill in front of a lake, with no trees.

As I stumble out of the school’s courtyard, a crack forms on the sidewalk in front of me. I jumped over it, not even giving a pause to think. A brick brushes past my cheek, scraping in. Pieces of rubble crash into my arms, legs, and my chest. I close my eyes in pain, but only for a second. I have to keep going.

A rock rolls under my foot and I trip. The ground seems to be liquid, alive, moving even as I fall. I can feel the ground vibrating when my whole body makes impact. As I push myself up, cracks from on the street, on the walls nearby. They grow, waiting to make a whole foundation fall and swallow me whole. Debris flies around, like birds landing after migrating a thousand miles, except they fall in different directions. A sound of the crash of metals makes me turn, and I see a car crash into another, making an instant scrap metal sandwich.

Somehow, I get up from my scraped knees and keep running.

Something bites me in the calf on my right leg. I grimace, wanting to limp to make the pain easier. But it’ll only slow me down, and I have this newfound will to survive.

Finally I reach the hill. I collapse on the ground, gasping for breath. I realize the birds have stopped singing.

Suddenly, everything is still again. All I can hear and feel is my heart pounding.

I look back into the direction of my school. It’s now a pile of rubble. Blood rushes past my ears as I wonder if anyone else made it out. Or if it’s just me.

Something tickles my arm and I look down. Yin Yang smiles back up at me.

All of the sudden, I stand up. “Ma! Ba!” I need to know if they’re alright.

I stand up, but pain shoots up on my right leg. I sit down again. What do I do?

Then I remember-the first aid kit in my bag. They were handing those out the other day when the new pharmacy opened.

I reach into my now dusty bag in a small pocket and take out the small plastic white case. As I take out the rubbing alcohol pad, I close my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain. When the familiar burn occurs, I let out my breath. Even though it stings, I know that the pain is better than getting an infection.

There’s a pad of gauze, and I apply it to the cut. The blood isn’t flowing out fast, but it’s still flowing. I get the biggest band-aid I can find, and stick so that it holds the gauze pad in place.

Now I can stand up, although the sticky adhesive strip pulls at my skin. But now I can go on.

I need to find my parents.