POV

Too Close to Home

In memory of the victims of the bombing at the Boston Marathon.

Story by Muge Karamanci - mugekaramanci@gmail.com Photos by Muge Karamanci and Rebecca Lyn Bumsted
Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Like every year, my best friend and I went to watch the race. By that I mean we just go to the finish line to see the racer’s last seconds of running. I just thought that was the most exciting moment, as did he. The main reason I always made it out was because I lived one minute away, otherwise I don’t think I would. (I’m a very lazy person)

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Muge Karamanci

It was still very early in the morning and we were walking back and forth along Boylston Street from the corner of Bank of America to the restaurant “Vlora”. It was so crowded that it took us a very long time. And, as expected, we had a huge argument, yet again, and I decided to go home.

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Rebecca Lyn Bumsted

After a few hours, I decided to go out again to the finish line—this time with my cat. I always like taking her outside so she can get used to people, because otherwise all she sees is me. So this wasn’t the first time she’d been out. However, this time after only about ten minutes she was very uncomfortable in my arms and started squirming around. Maybe she felt something… Maybe the crowd had scared her. I decided to take her back inside. Like I said my apartment was one minute away.

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Twenty minutes after I went inside, I heard two very loud noises. Normally I am not so curious to go see what’s happening, but I found myself heading downstairs. In the lobby there were people running into our building. (It was the first building people could run and hide in) They were covered in blood. Looked like it wasn’t even their blood and everyone was screaming.

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Rebecca Lyn Bumsted

People were running out and I made my way as well. I just kept on walking. I felt someone’s arm on mine; he said, “Don’t go there.” I kept on walking. I turned the corner and saw what I think I saw. I wanted to help. I kept on walking or so I thought, but I had stopped apparently. I didn’t move, I couldn’t. I was just looking and seeing at this point.

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Blood everywhere. Missing limbs. I turned around and went back to my building, to my room, hugged my cat and called my parents. I still didn’t know what had happened. I turned the TV on: “BOMBS”. What?

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Rebecca Lyn Bumsted

Photo © Muge Karamanci

Photo © Rebecca Lyn Bumsted

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