It was the second Monday of the eighth grade when terrorists came to my school and killed six people. They came with AKs, fully expecting to slaughter as many children as they could.
I was walking from a classroom to the library when the first shots went off. My initial thought was that someone was lighting off fireworks as it was a friend’s birthday, so I just sort of stopped and listened for a moment. Seconds later, a woman screamed. I had never heard a scream like that before, though in my adult life I would hear a few more.
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