My mother always told me that in times of disaster and crisis, I was to look for the helpers. There would always be good people out there who are willing to put everything aside and help those who need it. And those that help are the people that I want to surround myself with, because they are strong, honest, dependable, and selfless.

Years later, I would find out that she stole the quote directly from Mr. Rogers, and I would be a bit crushed that my mother was not the poetic quiet genius that I always considered her to be, but I can still appreciate the general idea that she was trying to convey to me. Blatant verbal plagiarism aside, all she wanted was for her children to grow up to be good, helpful people who contribute to their community in a positive way. It's something that truly dawned on me once I left college and was out on my own properly for the first time.

I'm a good person who tries to do the right thing whenever possible. I give my spare change to the homeless man on the corner of Broadway and East New York Avenue if I have any. I buy Girl Scout cookies from the hair and makeup artist at work, despite the fact that the thin mints never fit into my daily macro budget. Part of my paycheck goes directly to the United Way Foundation. I donate my things to charity shops. I even volunteer on the off season to help the underprivileged youth of New York City learn fine arts. I'm not a bad person. Bad things happen to bad people, not to good people like me. Right?

I remember getting my boarding pass at La Guardia and passing through security without an issue. I can recall stopping at Starbucks and buying a hot tea before I took my diazepam once I got to my gate. I spent the half hour before boarding scrolling through Instagram on my phone. I remember standing on the jetway with the rest of the passengers and listening to the storm shrieking outside, and wondering briefly if Indianapolis was also experiencing bad weather. And I can vaguely recall finding my seat and getting settled before the meds kick in, and the rest is just a blurry mess in my mind.

I don't remember listening to the flight attendants' safety speech, or taxiing down the runway, or the drink cart coming down the aisle after takeoff. I wouldn't hear the other passengers' concerned murmurs about the storm raging outside and the way the plane seems to struggle to remain steady. I won't be aware of the pilot coming on the loudspeaker and asking everyone to keep their seatbelts on due to turbulence and of the frightened young girl across the aisle who bursts into stressed out tears.

I do wake up once the oxygen masks deploy and the screaming starts. I'm vaguely aware of a man yelling that his wife has hit her head and is bleeding profusely. It feels like I'm moving through a fog as I reach up and put my oxygen mask on. I remember wondering if these things even really work. Later I'll be able to remember a deafening explosion, like a car backfiring amplified times a thousand. Somewhere ahead of me, I can hear a person reciting prayers through all of the chaos, and I'll remember turning to the man beside me and stating that we were going to crash. He nodded his head, I think, and said that we would probably die. I think I nodded my head, too, and said that I had just been going home for the holidays. It had been a last minute surprise from my parents, as I'd originally planned to stay in the city. It's funny how these things happen.

Someone said brace for impact. Brace for impact, brace for impact. As if bracing could negate the fact that we're hurtling towards Earth at 260 miles per hour. We must have hit something, I think. Because the next time I turn to my seat mate, he's gone and so is the rest of the plane behind me. I can see the ground racing up to meet us, and I realize that I'm screaming but it's nearly impossible to hear over everything else.

And then everything goes black.

It is a curious thing to be rendered helpless oneself. One thinks that they'll know how they'll react. But the honest truth is that a person doesn't know. They don't know until it happens to them.

Just a short blurp to set the scene. The normal chapters will be much longer and not as choppy (was meant to read like that, as Mia recalls the plane crash).

We proper meet Mia in the next chapter. She's quite an exciting character to write.

xo.