I see two planes crash in the night sky.
They fall onto a high apartment building which catches on fire.
I notice the building is just two blocks away so I start running to the building.
On the way, I see others calling 911 on their cell phones so I keep running.
When I get there I see the flames are still high and I can help people in the lower levels get out.
I start running through the building, banging on their doors and shouting “Fire! You have to get out! Fire!”
I see a young girl who goes to get her family. And an 80 year old man whose family help him, and others who hear my call and leave their apartment.
One family is moving slowly so I help with a young child, carry her out to a tree and then run back in.
As I’m on the stairs I’m thinking to myself, “This is so unusual that I do this. No one else does this. How come others don’t help others like this?” And I consider going back to the grass to wait for fire trucks like others do and I just can’t bring myself to ignore the people who are in danger.
I realize that I just don’t mind dying and I think that’s why I take the risk when others won’t. In that moment, I don’t even have a thought of my daughter. My life just feels so insignificant and I accept that it is better to help dozens get out even if it means I lose my life than for me to try to save my life and have dozens die.
So I decide to keep going.
One family is not listening and I have to shout at them, “You aren’t listening! There is a fire directly above your apartment. You have to leave now! It could cave in at any moment! GO!!” And then they start moving.
I continue until I hear fire trucks and see fire fighters start entering the building. I walk out and sit on the grass, exhausted and feeling like crying for how close I was to losing my life but how grateful I am that I made it out and so did many others.