Essay by PaperNerd ContributorCollege, Undergraduate October 2001

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It had been a long and cruel winter. Temperatures had dropped well below zero and my father had passed away. Soon after the first tragedy, an American soldier had shot my mother. Luckily I was unnoticed. The house was then set alight as the soldiers left laughing. I gave my mother one final hug and in tears I left her helplessly, departing forever. This war had taken my emotions to a new level.

I was now homeless and lost. My family had been torn apart and my country crushed. I was living in constant fear. We were being slaughtered like sheep. The only thing that kept me going was revenge. I had no relatives left, my freedom was under threat and my life destroyed. In 1991 I joined the military.

After ten years of constant preparation under the harshest treatment my time had finally come. The Americans who took my life away were going to pay.

My objective was to take out the Twin Towers, which housed over fifty thousand people. They were going to feel the pain and misery I felt only ten years ago.

Under the lead and rule of Osama Bin Laden we had devised a plan of unimaginable destruction. The US had become careless as security checks in the airport were non existent. We were to exploit this to the best of our ability. I and four other colleagues were to hijack planes heading in the direction of those areas which we intended to cause havoc on.

Two of the planes were set to hit the Twin Towers simultaneously, this was to prevent people from escaping and hopefully to devastate America's financial status. The next plane was intended to damage the Pentagon in Washington and the concluding plane was to destroy the White House also in Washington. We decided to hijack the Boeing 757 and Boeing 767 plane as they had large fuel capacities and were usually heavily loaded for trips to the U.S. The more fuel we had, the more devastating the explosion would be.

So far the plan went successful. I got onboard without any issues. Security levels had been poor as I had imagined. It was now down to me. It was time for me to revenge my family. It was time for me to show my retribution, to the lives of those innocent Palestinians and Iraqis who had been murdered in large numbers, battling for their freedom. It was America's turn to face the consequence of killing innocent lives.

Here I am now, steering the plane to its final destination. I have killed those who have persistently tried to detain me.

I feel that I have become heartless, like the American who ended my mother's life 10 years ago. Only now I am beginning to fully appreciate the true value of life. By taking the lives of the people on this plane and those in the targeted areas I am not doing myself justice. I have hijacked this plane with another associate. Unfortunately he does not feel the same way as I do.

"There is no other option!" He persistently shouted at me, as I tried to convince him otherwise. I stopped and sat down. His family was also killed, but he had not recovered from the pain. His anger still boiled within him. I looked outside of the window, closed my eyes and prayed for the families of those who were about to suffer.