Being so young when it happened, 9/11 is something that hardly remember exactly how it happened. When this catastrophe happened, I was in the third grade. I attended a small private Christian school. During the school day, when we got news of what was happening, our principal immediately called everyone to the gym where we watched the live news feeds on our school’s projector screen. Everyone in the room was allowed to use the phones to call any loved ones or any one they knew that might have been affected by this. I remember sitting there and not being able to grasp what was going on. I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why a few people could do something so bad. I wanted to know why these people would want to kill thousands of innocent people. As these questions ran through my mind, I forgot that my mom worked for Frontier Airlines. I immediately rushed to the phone to call my mom only to be assured by my mom that she wasn’t an aircraft attendant and that we were in Chicago. Today, this is funny to see that the panic was so intense that I forgot it was happening in New York and not in Chicago. After my call of relief, I continued to watch the breaking news. We saw as people scrammed around the area covered in blood, smoke, and rubble. We watched parts of the building fall stories to the ground, bodies on the ground, and people crying. These events are what I remember when I think of 9/11. Every time I think of the day these, mostly answerless questions, still come to mind: How could someone in their right mind devise a plan to cause so much heart ache and death to thousands of innocent people?