From My View- Markos Kovac
Age 12
It hurts. Really bad. I can't move. I can barely stay awake. I hope Jasna and my mom are okay. They were standing right by me when it happened. I think our apartment was bombed. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with. The sirens had been going for a while outside, but I didn't think it would be our house this time; or ever. I can't hear anyone, so either I am to weak to hear, or everyone else is hurt, too. I hope not. My dad! He was at the market when we were bombed. I hear him, faintly. "Markos! Markos! Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can!" He yells. I can't. It is too hard. He needs to save my sister and my mom. He is a doctor. He can do it. He says a quick prayer with my hand in his, and then drops my hand, back into the shattered glass on the floor. He can' t do anything to save me. I know I am going to die. My heart hurts, or at least my chest does. I want to close my eyes, but I know I will die the second I do. I want to make sure Jasna and mom are okay. I hear my dad shouting for help, over and over again. Shouting for any one to come. Of course, the possibility of anyone coming are low. Everyone in the building is probably hurt, and the medical service here in Croatia is not great, and is already busy enough. I hear my father reciting the Lord's prayer over and over and over again, and after every prayer, he shouts for help again. I cannot see what he is doing. Part of the wall fell on me when it happened. I don't think I could see, even if there was no wall. I don't think my eyes would work. I am not even sure that they are even open, because all I can see is dark. My mom! I heard her say something! I can't understand it though. Neither did my dad. This time she speaks louder and says, "Help Jasna. Help Markos." "Daniella, stay with me, though!" My father says. He doesn't mention that I am pretty much dead. There is no way he could help me any way. This wall feels like it is a thousand pounds. My father is still reciting the Lord's prayer, and every line or so, he'll yell my sister's name, "Jasna! Listen to me! Stay alive!" He yells. He yells, "Daniella, stay with me! Don't die on me!" I want to help my family so much. Jasna is only eight. I am twelve. I've lived longer than her, so it's only fair that she be the one to live. My father, he is a strong man, but I don't think he could ever get over losing all of his loved ones. He has prayed so much. If no one comes to help, I don't think that he will ever believe in God again. I don't think that he will ever love any one the same way he loved my mom. They are very much in love. I want to go, and let myself drift off. If this is what death is, the feeling isn't horrible, not even scary. I'm to tired to be nervous about life after death or any thing like that. I want to so much, but I need to make sure that my family is okay. I need to say goodbye to everyone. I want to say goodbye to Jon. I haven't seen him in two months. We have to stay inside, so we don't get shot by terrorists on the street. Jon lives in the next building. I wonder if his family is all right. I hope so. His mother just had a baby boy, and his sisters are only two, four, and seven. His older brother was planning on becoming a doctor for animals in England. I can't imagine how he'll ever get out of the country, let alone to England. He said that he would find a way some how, and some money. I think that I will let myself go. This is too much work. If what Father Janko said is true, I'll become an angel, and be able to see my family and friends whenever I want, and go to heaven. That sounds nice. Heaven is supposed to be peaceful and everyone is nice. I haven't seen that for a while. I love my family, and my life. I do want to stay, but I can't fight this any more. I will go. My fate is in God's hands.
It hurts. Really bad. I can't move. I can barely stay awake. I hope Jasna and my mom are okay. They were standing right by me when it happened. I think our apartment was bombed. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with. The sirens had been going for a while outside, but I didn't think it would be our house this time; or ever. I can't hear anyone, so either I am to weak to hear, or everyone else is hurt, too. I hope not. My dad! He was at the market when we were bombed. I hear him, faintly. "Markos! Markos! Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can!" He yells. I can't. It is too hard. He needs to save my sister and my mom. He is a doctor. He can do it. He says a quick prayer with my hand in his, and then drops my hand, back into the shattered glass on the floor. He can' t do anything to save me. I know I am going to die. My heart hurts, or at least my chest does. I want to close my eyes, but I know I will die the second I do. I want to make sure Jasna and mom are okay. I hear my dad shouting for help, over and over again. Shouting for any one to come. Of course, the possibility of anyone coming are low. Everyone in the building is probably hurt, and the medical service here in Croatia is not great, and is already busy enough. I hear my father reciting the Lord's prayer over and over and over again, and after every prayer, he shouts for help again. I cannot see what he is doing. Part of the wall fell on me when it happened. I don't think I could see, even if there was no wall. I don't think my eyes would work. I am not even sure that they are even open, because all I can see is dark. My mom! I heard her say something! I can't understand it though. Neither did my dad. This time she speaks louder and says, "Help Jasna. Help Markos." "Daniella, stay with me, though!" My father says. He doesn't mention that I am pretty much dead. There is no way he could help me any way. This wall feels like it is a thousand pounds. My father is still reciting the Lord's prayer, and every line or so, he'll yell my sister's name, "Jasna! Listen to me! Stay alive!" He yells. He yells, "Daniella, stay with me! Don't die on me!" I want to help my family so much. Jasna is only eight. I am twelve. I've lived longer than her, so it's only fair that she be the one to live. My father, he is a strong man, but I don't think he could ever get over losing all of his loved ones. He has prayed so much. If no one comes to help, I don't think that he will ever believe in God again. I don't think that he will ever love any one the same way he loved my mom. They are very much in love. I want to go, and let myself drift off. If this is what death is, the feeling isn't horrible, not even scary. I'm to tired to be nervous about life after death or any thing like that. I want to so much, but I need to make sure that my family is okay. I need to say goodbye to everyone. I want to say goodbye to Jon. I haven't seen him in two months. We have to stay inside, so we don't get shot by terrorists on the street. Jon lives in the next building. I wonder if his family is all right. I hope so. His mother just had a baby boy, and his sisters are only two, four, and seven. His older brother was planning on becoming a doctor for animals in England. I can't imagine how he'll ever get out of the country, let alone to England. He said that he would find a way some how, and some money. I think that I will let myself go. This is too much work. If what Father Janko said is true, I'll become an angel, and be able to see my family and friends whenever I want, and go to heaven. That sounds nice. Heaven is supposed to be peaceful and everyone is nice. I haven't seen that for a while. I love my family, and my life. I do want to stay, but I can't fight this any more. I will go. My fate is in God's hands.