I remember the alarms ringing through the classrooms. I was in stitching class, putting together a dress at the age of ten when the bell began. It was too early for the lunch bell, too late for the work bell, and it was too high pitched and sounded too dangerous. My teacher, who had been assisting me in my work, let out a gasp of horror and bustled us all outside immediately, following every other class out of the building.
Several of us screamed at the sight that met us outside, especially the younger children. Once realisation set in, some of us began to scream and race towards it. I just froze, while the largest of the uniform factories burned wildly. That was when more screams began, not from us children, from the inside.
I was staring at the building, hoping for some chance she wouldn't be in there, for the chance she'd have gone home sick, gone to collect some more cotton. Any reason my mother wouldn't be in that building.
After just under a minute, I was standing the furthest away from everyone else. All the kids had run ahead, as close as the adults would allow them, screaming for their parents trapped inside. I kept on wishing, hoping, begging in my mind for my mother to be safe, until I heard a desperate, hoarse scream.
"Alice!"
At that point, my hopes were shattered. I began to run, shoving past everyone and crying for my mother, willing to risk my own life to save hers. My father appeared from nowhere, grabbing me and pulling me back to safety, holding me close while I wailed uncontrollably.
Just hours later, when we'd all been sent home, everyone was summoned back to the town square with a single toll of the work bell. Everyone walked in silence, unable to meet each other's eyes. I clung to my father's hand for security, and closed my eyes tight while the list of the dead was read out for everyone to hear.