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Who knows how many people are still trapped underneath the rubble. I’m still going to look for them.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

Peter remembered the evacuation– his cousins pulling him along to the safe zones. Then the sounds, screams, and flickering lights– it was too much for him. Too much stimulation and the flickering lights made him sick to his stomach, and when he finally was able to open his eyes when it stopped? People were covered with blood, his own hands soaked in crimson from trying to catch himself after the first initial waves hit and forced him to the ground. His eyes couldn’t look away from his palms, even as they shook and his breathing started to quicken. All Peter could smell was the tangy iron, he no longer could see the safe zone around him. He was a child again, staring at the lifeless bodies of his parents, the words “they’re dead” falling from his lips over and over as he sat in the corner.