[ WP ] '' It was n't until later , when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead . ''

Winning. That ’ s all that was going through my mind that morning. I had been training for six long months for this race, and now it was coming to fruition. Six months of endurance running, strength training, and conditioning had all led up to this spring morning. I lined up about 100 yards away from the front of the pack, and waited for the opening shot, letting me finally chase my dream. 
 
 It was at the age of five that I saw my first race, when my family lived in the suburbs of Atlanta. We lined up at the finish line, after watching the coverage on local television. A one by one each runner crossed that marker, arms spread out in the air, welcoming the breeze on the other side. I was spellbound. And now, 17 years later, I was about to undertake a similar feat. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Then I heard it. The gunshot. I breathed out and open my eyes determined and resolved. My eyes centered on the morning sky, normally gray with rain. Instead, rays emblazoned upon the sky with ruby red streaks and hues, followed by the orange flames of sunrise. 
 
 I was not prepared. 
 
 A ways after, I was starting to become ever thankful for small paper cups. I checked my watch, luckily still keeping with my planned pace. Still had over ten kilometers to cover, and soon that barrier, that invisible wall would be conquered. I set my determination level on overdrive. I would not give up. 
 
 `` It ’ s there! I saw it down the road!'' A smile crawled to the corner of my mouth. The banner, with the words “ BOSTON MARATHON ” bolded into the fabric. Each step, after hours of running, suddenly took hours to make each one. I looked up into the April sky, now gray with that familiar cloudiness I had become accustomed too. I spread out my arms and welcomed that line, and counted down the markers. 50 yards…40 yards…30 yards…20 yards… 
 
 I first thought I was getting pushed, but the sound that followed quickly erased that imagination. I stumbled onto the ground, just twenty yards away from the white line. The blast from behind me radiated through the street, windows shattering along the walkways. I huddled down, and protected my head, as a second blast set off a wave a pressure from the area in front of me. Smoke filled the air, and suffocated my senses. I stumbled over to the sidewalk, and tripped over what I thought was a trash can. That ’ s when the screams blindsided me, and I realized what I had tripped into. At first, I thought it was a rain puddle, but I soon realized that its warmth was deceiving me. In front of me was a woman, screaming at the top of her lungs, covered in a coat of blood. I narrowed my sight, and saw why she was screaming. Someone, I assumed to be a friend, was lying on their side, and missing a leg. 
 
 Bomb. It must have been a bomb. The chaos…the destruction…the crater. I could n't compose myself. I stumbled off to the side. I knew I wasn ’ t as injured as the others, and the paramedics seemed surrounded in their own sudden hell. I stumbled past, and began a slow, monotonous trek to my home. 
 
 It was n't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead. Those two women. Ashen. Petrified with terror. It was then that I first broke down and cried. “ Should I have stayed? Should I have helped? Why did n't I help? ” 
 
 I never went back there. I resolved that my failings and my experiences were my guilt to bear and live with. Like a freeze-frame, that woman ’ s sheet-white face over her friends injured body plastered my mind, as if an Unforgiving stain had clouded my design, and there was no way to erase it. I never did cross that line. All the excitement I had, all the ambition seemed lost in a sudden and imposing reality. Now, I take it upon myself to never get to the point where I find out what ’ s on the other side. 
 
 Author's Note: When I saw that sentence, I could n't get the thought of this terrible event out of my mind, and I felt I had to write about it. I mean no disrespect to anyone who lived though this event in person. My thoughts and prayers go to all those affected by this tragedy.
