Earlier this month, I was having a family picnic on Easter Sunday in Griffith Park, Los Angeles, with my auntie and cousins. While the little kids did an Easter egg hunt (I’m 13), me and my three cousins went off to play soccer. After kicking the ball around for a bit, we found an abandoned building on the edge of the park, so we climbed over the fence and started playing tag. I wasn’t looking where I was going when I felt a piece of wood underneath me break, and I fell 25ft into a pipe.
I landed into water and it was running pretty fast. It felt like being on a waterslide, but the water smelled nasty, like a toilet. It was dark, so I grabbed my phone from my pocket to use as a flashlight, but the water knocked it out of my hand and I lost it. In those first few moments I panicked – I thought I was going to die.
After a few minutes of sliding, I found I could put my hands against the wall of the pipe and stand up. The walls were slimy and cold, the water was up to my knees and the pipe was about 4ft wide. I shouted for help but I could just hear my own voice echoing back to me and the sound of rushing water. I started crying a little because I was so scared. I was in the dark, alone, thinking, “Where am I?” and, “Will I ever get to see my family again?” I kept seeing the face of my little sister, who is 18 months old, and my Mom, who’s pregnant. I wondered if I’d ever get to meet my baby brother.
I thought about trying to carry on walking through the pipe to find a way out, but it looked scary so I decided it was better to stay put and hope that someone would find me. I was praying to God, “Please, please get me out of here safe.” We pray a lot at home, but that day I was really praying.
Not too long after that, I heard helicopters and I knew people were looking for me. I started relaxing and thinking I was OK, I was going to be rescued. But when nobody came after what felt like hours, I went back to thinking I was going to die. I wasn’t really hungry or thirsty or tired, I just knew I had to wait. Over 12 hours after I’d first fallen in – around 5am – I saw a light above me and I heard someone shout, “Here’s the kid!” I started calling for help, and a rope got lowered down with a platform at the bottom of it, so I just held on and they pulled me out through a manhole. I felt disoriented when I came to the surface. I was by a freeway with all these flashing lights. They gave me a phone and I called my mom. I said, “Mom, I’m good. Where you at? You need to come pick me up.” She was crying and saying, “Oh my God, where are you?” over and over again.
The firefighters took my T-shirt off, hosed me down and wrapped me in a plastic sheet. Someone gave me a Gatorade, but I only drank a little bit because I don’t really like it and I didn’t feel thirsty. At the hospital I took a hot shower and they gave me a change of clothes and put me on an IV drip. After a couple of hours the doctor told me I was fine – I just had grazes on my knees and knuckles from the fall – and my mom and stepdad took me home. All my family were waiting for me, and I hugged them and went to sleep for a few hours. When I woke up, there were news reporters outside waiting to interview me, which was weird.
I found out that when I fell into the pipe my cousins ran back to my family and the adults phoned 911, but it took a long time to find me because I’d travelled about a mile from where I fell. They’d sent cameras down to look for me. They only found me because a camera picked up my handprints in a pipe. Over 100 people were involved in the search, so I felt bad I’d caused all that drama, but happy that they hadn’t given up on me. I heard there were toxic gases down there, so I was lucky.
Three days later, I went back to school – I just wanted to get back to normal. Everyone in my class was asking if I was OK.
Sometimes in my mind I go back to the moment when I fell and think about what would have happened if they had never found me. Thank God I got another chance.
• As told to Kate Wills.
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