“I Survived 7/7—But the Bomber Still Follows Me”
It’s been twenty years, but that morning on the London Underground still feels like yesterday. The sound, the heat, the blinding flash—I relive it every day. I’m Dan Biddle, and I’m a survivor of the 7/7 London bombings. But surviving isn't always living. That day, I looked into the eyes of a man who would become Britain’s first suicide bomber. I saw him place his hand into his rucksack. I saw the moment before everything changed.
The explosion hurled me out of the train. My legs were torn apart. My body smashed into the tunnel wall. My left leg was gone instantly. The right one was lost below the knee. Burns covered my face and arms. My left eye was gone. My hearing—shattered. A pole went straight through my body. My lungs, my colon, my kidneys—they were all damaged. I lost my spleen. I lost blood. I nearly lost my life. But I didn’t. I stayed conscious through all of it.
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And yet, the worst pain came later. The nights haunted by the face of Mohammad Sidique Khan, the bomber. I see him everywhere. He’s in the garden when I look out my kitchen window. He’s behind me in the car. He stares back at me from shop windows. Flashbacks drag me back into that tunnel, over and over again. My brain won't let me leave.
I wrestled with survivor’s guilt. Why did I live, and others didn’t? Was there something I missed? Something I could’ve done? I reached a breaking point in 2013. I tried to end my life—three times. But love saved me. My wife Gem, her face, her strength—she pulled me back. She got me to seek help. Real, professional help.
Part of that journey led me back to Edgware Road station. I thought I’d never return, but Gem pushed me. We stood on the platform. I could barely breathe. But I got on the train. And when it stopped exactly where I nearly died—I made a choice. I chose life. I chose to keep going. For myself, for Gem, and for the 52 people who didn’t get that chance.
Today, I run a business helping disabled people into employment. I’ve written a book, Back From The Dead . I still struggle—flashbacks don’t just vanish—but I’m using my second chance to fight back. The man who tried to end my life didn’t win. I’m still here. Still standing. Still speaking. And I’ll keep speaking until stories like mine aren’t needed to remind us what hate can do—and what hope can overcome.
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