The flames litter the air with smoke, transforming the room into a black cloud of despair that demolishes life that lingers within. Amy lays there, at the base of the building, in an abandoned alley, bones crushed. Her fall from the ten story building leaves her legs shattered, her spine crushed; paralyzed. If she were conscious, pain would surely fill her entire body. Cries would burst from her like an active volcano that can no longer restrain the bubbling lava inside its deep molten crust. Instead, her mind does not wonder of the pain that consumes her, but the precious life that will inevitably end.

Amy’s mind floats back in time to 1907; she was fourteen, living in Sicily, Italy. The scent of sweet ocean breeze brings peace to her fourteen year- old heart. Often times Amy would sneak out of her quaint, cozy home, tightly knit by other small, poor houses, to gaze at the morning sunrise illuminating the rocky shoreline. Being the oldest of her family of eight, morning was often the only time she was able to seek a few moments for herself. Her days were spent doing chores, learning school work, and assisting her five younger siblings in learning their school work as well. Not to mention, caring for her 98 year- old grandmother who could scarcely walk or do anything herself. Her father had always stressed that she should learn as much as possible, even though most of her friends were illiterate and only had household chores to complete each day.

Although her life was often busy taking care of others and learning, Amy’s family often times would go swimming at the ocean every Saturday and enjoy their time together on the beach. Her father had high hopes that he could find Amy a wealthy husband by the age of eighteen and, in fact, he already had someone in mind.

His name was Jacque, a hardworking business man and family friend. Amy and Jacque were three years apart in age, and had always been close friends, but she never pictured marrying him. Amy’s father’s plans of making Jacque a part of Amy’s future changed in 1908 when a tidal wave swept over Sicily, killing Jacque, their elderly grandmother and her youngest brother.

Through the devastation of losing their house and loved ones, her family immigrated to New York, hoping that a new life awaited them. Completing her schooling at the age of seventeen, Amy obtained a job as seamstress, working painfully long hours, and earning a mere twelve dollars a week. Her family was quite poor and had barely enough food to feed them all. Desperate, her father desired that Amy would find someone that could provide her a better life. That “someone” came one day as Amy drudgingly ran to work, late from early morning chores.

His name was John. He “accidentally” bumped into her as she hastily turned the corner by the flower shop, late to work again. Frustrated with always being just a few minutes late, she quickly accepted his invitation to go out on a date later that evening, but was flattered by the handsome, blue eyed gentleman.

It wasn’t long until Amy and John fell deeply in love. They developed a unique bond and were senselessly happy within each others’ presence. Amy’s wounded heart, that once possessed only incredible depression, was healed and now knew nothing but happiness. She pictured herself marrying John and beginning a family. Her children would be beautiful and would inherit his gorgeous deep, blue eyes and her long, flowing, Italian hair and glowing skin complexion.

Her wedding day was the day that she longed for all of her life. Their families celebrated with dancing, food, love and laughter. Her father relieved that she had found somebody whom she loved and could start a fulfilling life with, was exulted with joy. John and Amy spent every night playing card games, laughing till they cried, or snuggling on the couch. Although, John repeatedly told Amy to quit her strenuous job, she refused. She still felt committed to her family who was struggling to pay the bills and afford food. John respected Amy’s generous heart and wanted her to pleased with her accomplishments.

Amy worked on the tenth floor, the hottest most miserable floor. Her hours were long; sewing from 5 a.m. to 6 p.m with a ten minute break. Amy’s thought process wandered to the present, of what had happened that day. The dark, black smoke coming from downstairs. The screams and cries from her beloved friends. Her standing at the edge of the window, wondering if this would be the last thing she would see, the last breath she would take. The flames reaching closer to her, the heat unbearable. Saying her last prayers, she jumped.

Memories of her husband’s never ending love and contagious smile swept through her unconscious memory and woke her with a sudden jolt, for she could not leave him. The rush of pain enters her conscious mind. Her screams erupt from her like a volcano. “John!” She never pictured dying alone. “Amy! Amy! Somebody help! Don’t leave me.” Feeling the warmth of her husband, she drifts back to sleep peacefully, comforted that she is in the arms of her loved one. Her heart will belong to him forever. At last, her mind and soul dissolves into a peaceful, everlasting rest.