Love and prayers to the victims of 9/11

“Do you trust me?”

She said and offers me a hand; her eyes were like a cat’s, round and calm despite the chaos that’s currently happening around us. Her question rings in my head while muffled screams, sounds of falling debris and utter carnage surround the whole environment. It is hard to seek hope when all seemed nothing but hopeless.

I could hear my heart beating rapidly; my knees are quivering like jelly. I could die any moment now, I could be hit by a concrete wall, fall off the broken corridors, smashed by steel cabinets swivelling around together with the other office appliances, maybe I will die, maybe this is it.

“Do you trust me?” she asks again; much louder this time and though everything seemed like a living hell I still found a second of bliss to admire the softness of her voice. How can someone be so calm when we’re about to face our death?

I have to make up my mind. I have to choose, either stay where death is already given or take a chance and fight till the end. Incoherent thoughts bounce on the four corners of my mind as I throw caution to the wind; I reach out to her and grab her hand. She smiled at me, as though relieved that somehow, neither of us will die a tragic death alone.

Her hands were caked with dust but soft and warm nonetheless, our firmly pressed work blouses are now tucked out of our skirts, crumpled, ripped and smeared with blood and dirt. I try to rack my brain for any recognition pertaining to her but found none and it came to me that I don’t even know her. I don’t even know the name of this girl whose hand I’m holding.

But does that even matter especially in this time and place?

You thought it was just another day as you wake up at the sound of your mobile alarm. You hail a cab from your apartment to work and expect a typical busy Tuesday.

You go to office, greet your colleagues and boss dressed in expensive suits and branded shoes talking about corporate stuffs, maybe you’ll check your e-mail for any incoming announcements or letters from clients then maybe get some quick lunch or maybe some of your officemates would offer to accompany you to a short coffee break and horse around talking about politics or the latest in Hollywood, then you’d go home eat dinner or go out with a friend and that’s it, you’d call it a day. But no, today is not an easygoing carefree day.

Today is September 11, 2001, it might be a normal day yeah sure, except we didn’t know our workplace will be bombed to bits and pieces by the Al Qaeda.

I can hear them dying, Nancy, the one who sits right across me is gasping for breath before it finally runs out, her bright blue eyes staring blankly at me, her blonde hair matted with fresh blood gushing out of her right temple. I know that if ever I survived, I would never forget the way she looked, the way she gasp and never exhaled. There’s Rodrigo too, the one who sweeps the floor spotless every single day, holding on for dear life on a steel pole before a concrete piece of the building falls on his now crushed hand, maybe I’ll hear his piercing scream of agony in my nightmares I’m sure will haunt me should I survive this horrifying day. My own tears start to fall without me knowing it, and then suddenly the world is twirling or was it me as I suddenly come face to face with the soft-spoken girl.

“Hey, hey” she coos and wipes my tears away while she herself starts to cry. I squeeze her hand like it’s the last time I’ll ever get the chance to engage in human interaction.

“Do you see what’s below us?” she queries. Perplexed, I looked down and notice that we’re five floors down to the ground floor and the whole building is still collapsing. I look back at her, not really knowing what’s she pointing at or what we’re about to do.

“We’re going to jump” she says. I try to contradict but my throat clogs up, effectively silencing me, then again I guess jumping is better than getting yourself sandwiched between huge boulders of concrete and shattered glass.

“Are we going to die?” I asked, realizing later on how dumb my question was. What happened next surprised me; she chuckled and answered “I hope not”. How can she even laugh while all this is going on? Oddly enough, if this was a normal day, I would’ve probably gotten irritated with her but I didn’t. Instead, I smiled at her, and even offered to count to three.

“On three…One…” I said.

“I’m Taeyeon, from the Accounting department” she surmised, once again, surprising me. Her eyes were distant; looking over the horizon before glancing down below on what would be our deathbeds.

“I’m Tiffany, legal services…Two…” I croaked while my chest fills with sickening dread.

Noticing Taeyeon’s now shaky breathing; I try to do what would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life, I hugged her.

I hugged a stranger. That would be the dumbest, most embarrassing thing to do if this was all a big, fat joke and there were no bombings; but this wasn’t a joke and hugging a stranger in the midst of something so raw and so real like this would probably be the nicest thing to do before you die.

We hugged so tight complete with sobs and tears you’d think we’re lovers at the airport and one has to fly to another country. I can feel her breathing on my neck and closed my eyes, savouring what will be the final touch of affection I would ever have with someone. When we let go, she brushed her thumb on my cheek, gently blotching away the dirt, which was funny because a large portion of our faces have been covered with nothing but the same.

“Thank you” she whispered while intertwining our fingers and engulfing me into another sweet embrace using her free hand. I was about to call the final shot when I heard her whisper something in my ear.

“…Three”

With that, she took a leap and we seem to fall endlessly as Taeyeon gives me a good grip while I squirm out of her grasp. That crazy woman has me on top of her which means that when we fall, her chance of survival would certainly be zero while I would probably stand a chance.

The fall felt endless and how I wish it would stay that way.

The impact was insanely horrendous; I felt my brain shake from the insides of my skull followed by a deafening silence. One thing’s for sure though, starting from now, I’ll be in coma until I finally die.

Until I finally die, die.

The word unbelievably registered in my still functioning mind as I remember Taeyeon; where is she? Is she dead? God I hope she lives, she has such a beautiful soul. It’d be fine with me if I die in exchange for her life. There was that tiny connection; the faintest spark I felt when I was with her, I don’t know what it is and I can’t fathom what it is because my head is aching so bad; it’s not like a migraine; it’s worse, probably the worst headache I’ve ever had.

I try to make my senses work but all I could see are mist and gravels and broken pieces of concrete, unsteadily, I touch my face and felt something warm and I knew right then that it was blood, maybe my eardrums got busted because I can’t hear anything but when all else seems to fail, right across me was a flicker of hope; there she was again, filling me with optimism in the most despondent situations.

My vision is blurry and the mist isn’t helping but I could see her, sprawled on the ground just like me, swathe in our joint pools of blood, her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving, the impact may have hurt her more than it did to me. With all the remaining force I had, I inched closer and reached out once again for her hand, just like I did when we decided to take a leap of faith; the warm and soft hands I used to hold are now cold and limp.

The last thing I saw were black and white cars, with red and blue lights shining on top and a huge white van, then there were mask-wearing people; tapping my cheek and touching parts of my body, I wanted to fight but my dwindling instinct told me not to so I finally surrendered to the fatigue but made sure not to let go of her hand.