The sound of rocks skidding across gravel is very familiar to some of us. In my situation, it's painful. It's a sign of destruction. It's a warning of : "Hey, look out before you're crushed!"
But it's too late for me.
So let me tell you the story of my destruction, the city's destruction and soon your destruction.
My name is Grace.
I'm 14 and lost in NYC. Everyone in the used-to-be-big-apple is lost and no matter how many times I try to find a way out, my soul is trapped here. Nothing's changed for me since my death.
**Two Years Earlier**
I struggle to open the heavy door of the hotel room. New York Hilton Midtown. I'm currently on a road trip all by myself. I've run away from home because my parents treated me like dirt.
It's just bus fares and hotel rooms for me.
Besides, stealing your mom's credit card is an easy task if you're the one cleaning out her purse for spiders and rollie-pollies. Nothing really cost a thing for me, it's all on my mom.
I lay down and relax.
But I can't. My whole body is trembling and I don't know why. Then I know, it's not me shaking . . . it's the whole building.
"Earthquake," I panic.
Adrenaline pumps fiercely through my veins. I run out of the room and down some stairs, but I hear groaning. I look up, and the ceiling crashes down on me.
My breath leaves my lungs.
I close my eyes once the ceiling crushes me. Pain I expected dissipates in my body once I realize I'm dead. The earthquake of New York City killed me. And I will forever be haunting this city.