Personal Narrative: Moving Away From Syria

I’m a sixteen year old male and, my name’s Zack, I 'm a refugee, and I was bombed in Paris. I moved from Syria to the United States. Syria was a nightmare for me. When I was there terrorists kidnapped me on my way home from school, strapped a bomb to my chest, and left me to blow up, and kill thousands. I didn’t know what to do, I was hopeless, frightened, for my life. I pray. The bomb is set to detonate in three days, so I decided I need to find a way to get the bomb off me. I tried myself to get it off, but it would make noises like a warning. So I didn’t want to tamper with it.
I have to find someone to get this bomb off me, before my time is up. My heart is racing. I’m starting to lose hope. I only have three days? I keep wondering “why

I go to my car and grab a pen from the console, and a paper carry out bag and start to write my family, and tell them I love them. I told them, I know they would have wanted me to come to them, but I couldn’t put their lives in danger, and that I love them. I walk a little distance away, and put in on the ground near my car sorta. I place a rock on top of it, so it doesn’t blow away, or burn.
I lay on the ground and stare up at the sky. I feel a breeze blowing my hair on my forehead. It’s quiet, and i’m waiting.. i’m thinking. I know it’s going to happen, but I need to be brave. I know i’m going to die. The sky is bursting with colors, like it’s on fire. My eyes are on fire. I pray. I hear a loud noise. It’s busted my eardrums, and I can’t hear. I think my bomb went off.. I think i’m on fire. There’s so much pain in my skin. I’m burning alive! It’s wired wrong it didn’t blow up all the way! I’m going to pass out.
I wake up and see a white light shining in my eyes. I’m at the hospital. I’m wrapped in bandages, and in the ICU. My family is here, doctors, and police officers. I’m alive. They didn’t kill me, i’m alive! “God was listening”, I think to