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"Beep, beep, beep, beep." Uggh, are you kidding me? I thought as my left hand slammed down to quiet my alarm. 5:50 am, June 11th. Pulling the covers back over my head I was gaining the strength to get out of bed. Finally I did it, throwing my covers off me I sat up and placed my bare feet on the cool wood floor. "It's last day of high school! Maybe if I keep saying that I'll make it through the day." I roll my eyes. Who was I kidding? High school was hell last day or not. I drag myself into the bathroom and turn on the water. When the temperature is right I stepped in. I turn on my shower radio and zone out to the beat of the latest pop song blaring from the tiny speaker. After I was done escaping from the world with hot water, steam, and shitty music I turn off the shower and begin to face the day.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a white tee shirt I attempt to make my bed look made, walk out my door and down the stairs. I look around the kitchen. It was huge and empty. What was I expecting, The Brady bunch sitting around my kitchen table? I sigh finding my flip-flops and sliding my feet inside. I grab my purse off the counter and scream, "I'm leaving." I laugh at the silence. I thought maybe today would be different. My mom would actually care and say "bye" back or acknowledge that I was even another member in this household, but no, not since daddy died. That was what, 7 years and 10 months today. Yup, September 11th, 2001. Daddy was chief of the New York police department. He was told to go into the second tower after it was hit. Then it fell. Daddy was running out, the tower was falling. Daddy was on the fifth floor. He didn't make it to the third. Or at least that what they have come to believe.

I begged Daddy not to go to work that day. I was 10, I wanted to stay home from school and spend the day with daddy doing "grown-up" things. Instead Daddy went to work. That was the last time I saw him. Standing on the porch through tear-filled eyes I watched his car drive away. So I went to school that day, just like daddy told me too. Daddy broke a promise that day, just like he told me he'd never do. He'd promised he'd come home and read to me like he used to until I fell asleep. Only daddy never came home, he never read to me, never held me, or kissed me on the forehead like he did sometimes. Daddy went away that day and so did my mom.

Mom lies in bed. She cries still. Sometimes at night when I can't sleep I listen, she talks to him you know. She tells him everything.

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