The bridge was collapsing and my baby and I were in the car. I scrambled to the backseat, in a desperate attempt to free her from her car seat. She was crying, I was crying, and my peacoat was suffocating me in the heat of my panic. I knew that I had no choice but to get her out, to get us off of the bridge that would otherwise kill us.
I heard a crack as the road started to split, rain pouring in through the open windows of the car. I tore apart Rya’s car seat buckle, and in one swift motion, had her out of the car.
With no time to assess, I started running, weaving and bobbing through the cars on the bridge. I heard another crack, and then screams as people started to jump. Analyzing my distance from land, I realized that we wouldn’t have time to make it there. Holding Rya’s head tight to my chest, I jumped into the water.
~
I opened my eyes and felt Rya take a breath in the cold night air. We were safe, treading water, and right under one of the most tragic events Brooklyn had ever seen.
I felt an out-of-place warmth, and looked down to see what could have been causing it. My body was glowing green, and so was Rya’s.
I heard the police call out to us from a boat, waving their hands. I held Rya close, not sure if she felt it too.
Soon, I passed her off silently to an officer, and sank back into the water. I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth continue to flow through me, knowing the officer was looking. I turned my head back to the bridge, warming my hands to go help the others.
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