It was shaking so much.
My family (dad, mum, two sisters) came over to Haiti only a week ago for family holiday. Of course, none of my siblings or I were really that excited. We groaned when they told us about it. However, it didn't turn out to be that bad.
Everyone was running around like ants. Our hotel collapsed, and you could hear a small high-pitched tingling crash of glass. Car alarms screamed in horror. Women with babies held children's hands and ran away from falling buildings. I couldn't see my dad. I was holding hands with him when we split up. There was so many people. So much noise. So much rubble on the floor. So much shaking. The ground was rumbling and I fell over, unbalanced. I saw a girl lying on the floor, she was younger than me by around five years. A massive chunk of cement was on her chest. I tried to lift it off. It wouldn't budge. A brick flew over and hit me in the knee. I cried in pain then crouched down. I felt the girl's wrist like we were taught in P.E. The crack I was standing on spat small stones at me. She was still. I tilted her head. Her face was dirty and her cheeks bled. I looked at my arms. They were scratched and dirty. Dirt had gone into some of my wounds, but that didn't matter now. I cried even more, wondering where my family could be. How did this happen? We were having such a great time. I put my hands over my ear. I didn't want to leave this girl. She didn't deserve that. That was my last thought as I saw a chunk of cement fall towards me and a piece of clear, sharp glass aimed for my head. I blacked out.