Bricks slamming into the floor, sticky warm blood oozing out of my face and sheer pain in left-arm agonizing me – this is what I remember when I woke up in the pitch-dark, inside the rubble of a shattered building. I was blinded by the acrid dust and writhed with excruciating pain. I tried to move, but in vain; an entire wall was laden on my hip. Last thing I knew, I was in a grocery store and the ground started to wobble; everyone began running frantically and midway to my exit, the building collapsed. Next, I woke up in hell. Not to be pessimistic but realistic, I contemplated my situation only to find out that my chances of survival lied somewhere between ineffective and non-existent. Unfortunately, all of my ideas on rescuing myself included Harry Potter’s wand and levitating spell. …show more content…
With my single operational hand, I despondently tried to grope my way out of the wreckage but, more debris collapsed and ensnared me. And yet, life clung to me like a disease. I missed my dad’s tobacco smelling hands and mom’s callous palms, warmth of my bed and delicious pancakes. Chafed under the rubble, there was little for me to do, if not nothing – to wait. It's the worst torture in the world: waiting when you know there's nothing you can