First the deep bass of the explosion, and then the high-pitched screech and whine of the twisting iron inside the building. Both towers are leaning toward us, falling slowly, so slowly, and I only have time to think—she said I am her—before they pass some invisible line and come crashing down. The earth shakes, and a few Roses have to brace themselves against trees. The tops of the towers land hundreds of feet away, glass and debris flying toward us through the air like knives, and I want a few to pierce me so I won’t have to feel what I’m feeling. The Black has nothing on the darkness inside me right now. The wind fades away as the smashed towers settle into new shapes. The air is filled with a choking gray dust. I can barely see ten feet in front of me. The director is holding me up. “These are the moments that change you,” she says. “Your only solace is that you will survive, Miranda. I’m not going to kill you. You are going to make the future.
