December 13th, 2013, a day that was just another day for most people. However, December 13th was the day everything changed. I woke up that chilly Friday morning expecting a typical easy day since it was the Friday before finals week. I did my normal routine, shower, get dressed, drive to school, go to classes, get lunch. Going to Arapahoe, a more mid-upper class high school where kids drive Mercedes, you'd never expect anything terrible to happen there. Maybe a fight or two and someone getting caught with weed every now and then, but it was the 'perfect' high school.

I can't lie, I've thought about what would happen if a shooting happened at the school and how I'd respond, but I can promise you that nothing can ever prepare you for the real situation. It was 5th period and we were finishing a movie that I can't remember the name of. I was dozing off, head on my desk using my arm as a pillow, then it happened. BANG. Pause. BANG BANG. At first it was hard to tell exactly what it was, then one of my classmates said "That's a gun." I heard yelling in the hallway, I couldn't make out what was being said, then over the PA system a voice said, "Lockdown, this is not a drill."

At this point, I knew it was real. We went into our lockdown position which was against the wall by the door. I was the last one over and I sat by the door. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on, I couldn't help but wonder "Is this my last day? What the fuck am I going to do if a gunman comes in here?" I figured at the time, the best chance for myself and for my classmates to survive was to charge at them if they entered. As we waited, it was silent. There were occasional whispers as news outlets sent out notifications that there was a shooter at my school. There were shouts in the hall and a hard tug on the door. No one could see who it was but no one came in so I was relieved.

About an hour passed, there was banging on the door, and a man yelling, "POLICE!" My teacher got up and opened it and she waved at us to follow her. As I walked out into the hall, it was smokey. There were SWAT members throughout the hallway. As we walked into the main hallway, I looked to my right and saw more SWAT members, then I looked to my left, and although I can't be 100 percent sure, it looked like a shiny substance on the ground down near the trophy hallway. We evacuated through a side door and were told to run across the street and wait there.

As more classes were evacuated and gathered across the street, there were people crying and hugging. Then names began to spill, and I began to put the pieces together. I heard the name Karl associated with the shooter, and Claire with the victim. I started to try to put faces to names, but I couldn't since there were no last names yet and the Karl I thought of wouldn't have done that. As everyone began trying to piece everything together, we were put on buses and bussed 1,000 feet away to a church right behind a King Soopers. We were told to find our parents in order for us to be released. I found my mom after 20 minutes with the help from my ex and a few teachers who knew her.

As my mother and I were leaving, we ran into my best friend's dad and he hugged me as tight as he could. That's when it suddenly became very real, that this really happened and this wasn't a dream. When we got home, I hugged my parents and my dog and watched the news to attempt to find out the details. They weren't releasing the victim's name but they shared the shooters name. Karl Pierson. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Karl was a friend, we weren't close by any means, but we'd talk on occasion and he'd always wave at me in the hall whenever we passed. I first met Karl in my freshman history class, where I befriended him. I remember when he first spoke, he had a loud booming voice. As I got to know Karl, I found out he was highly intelligent, strongly opinionated, and overall a good guy. I remember playing chess with him during an off period and of course, he kicked my ass but it was a blast. I couldn't, nor did I want to believe he just shot up Arapahoe. My mind was attempting to comprehend this but it couldn't.

As the night went on, we went out to dinner with my grandmother. The news came out with the victim's name, Claire Davis. I searched her on Facebook and put the face to her name and I reconized her. I didn't know her, but we had several mutual friends in common. As the next few days passed, the details began to come out. Karl entered the school, shot randomly down the hall into the study center, shot Claire, went into the library, shot after the librarian, who was also Karl's former debate coach, missed, set the library on fire and committed suicide with a self inflicted gunshot wound. It all happened within 80 seconds. The most significant 80 seconds of my life.

The following Thursday, we were allowed back into the school to get our backpacks, visit teachers and friends and to just go back. I went to my classroom and got my backpack, talked to my teacher for a bit and continued to walk with my friend to his classroom. When we left his classroom, we walked by where Claire was shot and it smelled like industrial cleaner and blood. It was eerie in the school and it felt like a foreign place to me.

Eight days later, on December 21, 2013, Claire passed away from her gunshot wound. Trying to comprehend and process this whole thing was impossible. I just couldn't understand why it happened. As time went on, I tried to put it behind me in an attempt to runaway from it. I finished my senior year and graduated and prepared for college. It didn't bother me really, I thought about it a lot but it didn't provoke emotion in me until one night in October, while I was laying in bed at college. I was alone and it just hit me like I drove my car into a brick wall. At that moment I felt mentally, emotionally and physically weak. I bawled my eyes out. When I gathered myself for the most part, I tried to sort through my thoughts. I was a mental wreck. I hid what I was feeling from everyone to avoid that kind of attention because I didn't want help from anyone. I wanted to fight and overcome this myself. As I struggled to deal with it, I decided to seek help from a counselor at CSU-Pueblo and it didn't help shit. Revisiting the shit that's bothering me is not going to help. I realized I was on my own.

I continue to try to figure out how to personally deal with it, I still haven't figured it out. I still think about it daily. Every place I go, I think of where to go, and what to do if a shooter comes in wherever I'm at. I feel guilty for not being closer to Karl. I feel guilty that Claire was an innocent victim. I feel pain from the incident. I feel broken, emotionally and mentally from it. I learned that anything can happen at any given time by anyone. I also learned not to take life for granted because it could be taken at any time. December 13th, 2013, is a day I'll carry with me forever, it's a day that changed me forever. Choose to spread love.

R.I.P. Claire Davis

R.I.P. Karl Pierson