My mother moved our family to New York in search of a better life. It was stressful living in New York, We had to go to a shelter to find a place to stay. Seeing my mother struggle was really hard for me and my brothers and sisters. My mother has six kids, with me and my twin brother being the oldest. We never really understood why my mother left Georgia, and we never asked. Our very first apartment in Brooklyn was not what we were use to. It was only a one bedroom apartment. I had to share a room with my brothers and sisters. We had been in the apartment for about a month when this accident happened. August 14, 2004 will always stay in my mind as a reminder. My mother wanted to cook Sunday dinner for the family. She was boiling chicken on the stove. We were straightening up the house so that we could play afterwards. My little brother and I were told to clean the kitchen. While cleaning I opened the oven door and all I remember is the stove tilting forward and the pot with the boiling water sliding towards me. I fell on the floor along with the pot that fell on me. The water was very hot! As soon as it hit my skin I was screaming. I ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. All I could do was cry and scream. My mother called 911. They told her to put me in the tub and run cold water. Sitting there I was wondering why this just happened to me. Crying and shivering at the same time I heard the fire trucks and the police in front of my building. When they arrived upstairs they took me out of the cold water and then put me into a chair. My skin was wrinkled in certain places where I knew that I was burned. I remember telling the firefighters that I didn’t want to die, I was crying for help.