I remember the screams and the blood throughout the parking lot as we ran for our lives. I remember the sound of my sister’s voice when she looked up and saw a woman’s head bleeding. I remember feeling people step on me as we lay on the ground with our heads down when the shooting first began. I remember telling myself to breathe deep breaths because it would be easier to manage a bullet wound if I wasn’t freaking out when I got hit. I remember my heart fluttering and the fear that my heart condition would make it difficult for me to run.
I remember sending text messages to my family and calling my parents to tell them we were in the middle of a mass shooting. I remember repeating, “I love you,” because I wanted to say it as many times as I could just in case I wouldn’t be able to again. I remember my mom singing, “You are my Sunshine,” and me feeling the warmth and love in her voice as my sister and I hid beneath the stage. I remember the guilt of surviving and the pain of knowing our lives would never be the same.