9/11 Creative Writing

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My eyes flutter open as my morning alarm goes off, the sun shining in my face through my blinds. I let out a groan as I haul myself off the comfortable bed, pushing the fleece sheets off me and dreading the day to come as I disable the alarm. Another day of the same old thing. I groggily head to my bathroom, brushing my teeth and staring at my self in the mirror. I shake my head and take a quick shower before dressing in my usual work uniform. A grey shirt with only the logo on the front, and jeans. Nothing special, of course. I glance at my phone and realize just how close I am to being late to work. I decide to skip breakfast, like the day before, and head out the door with my bag and keys. The cool air hits my face, which is somehow refreshing. …show more content…

My hands steady on the wheel, I make my way to work. It seems I actually will make it on time if I keep the pace I’m going at. Thank God, I can’t afford to be late to work again. As I turn the small dial for my car radio, desperate to find something to listen to, I hear beeping behind me. I don’t pay too much attention to the ruckus, since the highway is always full of grumpy people rushing to work, pressing the car horn like nobody’s business. But I quickly realize my mistake as someone else crashes into my car, at high-speed, sending me flipping off the road. I no longer care about the radio, but instead scream as my car flips a few time before stopping, pieces of the car and even glass whipping by me. Out of fear, I faint. The next time I open my eyes, the part of my car that used to be a door is being pried open by a firefighter, although my vision is blurry. I can’t move nor feel my legs, or arms. I only let out a small grunt of pain before my vision fades once more. I wake up once more, but this time, in a hospital room, alone, the only sounds accompanying me is a clock softly ticking on the wall on my right, and the heart monitor …show more content…

The man cleared his throat, and I stared up at him silently as I waited for him to speak. “I..I have nothing I can say to make this all better. I didn’t know that would happen that morning. If you had died, I couldn’t have lived with the thought that I had killed someone else’s child and lover.” He glanced to the side at a drawing of a smiling, brightly colored flower. “I ask that you..could possibly find the will in your heart to forgive me. They just told me why I crashed into you..because of the tumor. So much is happening at once, and..and I can’t deal with it all. Please, forgive me, despite how hard it will be..” He said, his voice cracking. I stared at the sheets on his hospital bed, before motioning Dr. Palmer to push me closer. When she did, I got up, and used his bed to support myself, while Dr. Palmer made sure I didn’t put too much pressure on my left leg. I then stretched my arms out slowly, giving him a warm embrace. He broke down in my arms, letting out small apologies, to which I rubbed his back soothingly. It was silent, but I didn’t mind. I let the ticking clock soothe my own emotions, and his beeping monitors, a reminder of how he had it worse than

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