I sat at the dinner table in my friend, Ashley's, small apartment in sokovia. I was eating dinner while having a conversation with her family. Everything was nice and content until my attention turned to the small television that sat in the corner of the room. The news was on and the sight was horrifying, though the headline was what scared me the most. My apartment building was bombed. I scrambled to my feet, excusing myself from dinner. After a few words with the small family, I discontinued the sleepover and ran to what was my home. I ran as fast as my small legs could take me, but within a block of the building, I slowed down as dust rubble surrounded the building. I was soon stopped by police officers, as they claimed it was too dangerous and there could potentially be bombs that have yet to go off. So I sat on the sidewalk thinking about my parents and my younger siblings, Wanda and Peitro.
I waited for two days. Every now and then I would go buy some food, putting the leftovers in my backpack, and would continue waiting, and soon, I began thinking the worst. On the second day, I thought about leaving, going to find somewhere to live, but luckily I had put those thoughts away and less than an hour later, firemen came out of the building with two small children.
I ran over, screaming their names desperately. They looked over towards the shouts and when they saw me, they squirmed out of the mans grip and ran over to me. I grasped them and held on as I sobbed. We finally let go of each other and went to a small ally. I shared my leftovers with them as they told me what happened. I was sad that our parents died but I was happy that they were alive.
I was 14 when that happened and the twins were 10. I was 19 while they were 15 when they signed up for experimentation and dragged me along.
