The American cried, his tears not stopping. Every year on the same day, he
wouldn't be able to stop crying. 'What had gone wrong 11 years ago?' he asked himself
every single year. Alfred wiped his tears away hastily, trying to stop the
tears. 'Dammit…' he thought to himself, 'Why…?' His whole body was aching with pain.
"This wasn't supposed to happen. . ." he whimpered, his voice cracking. He always
blamed himself for the tragic event.
"This is my fault. . . I didn't try to stop the attack. . .I was stupid not to
have known about it. . ." he muttered, his tears increasing. He put his face in his palms
and wept. His whole body shook as he tried his best to calm down, but his crying only got
worse.
"Dammit!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. His hands were clenched together,
looking angry. Alfred wanted to turn back time so all of the lives that had been lost
that day wouldn't have ended up dead. The memories came flooding back to him, playing
through his head like an old film. All the dead people on the ground, either burned or
bloodied from their jump off the building, the workers from the World Trade Center
jumping out and falling to their deaths. Then the rubble, firefighters and citizens
covered in dust that damaged their lungs. Those images zipped through his head, making
him more depressed and cry more. He hated himself for not having tried to save those
lives. But he hated himself more for the fact that he knew he couldn't turn back time to
change the past. The history of his country. None of that, he knew, he couldn't change
even if he went back to September 9th. 11 years ago….