3:00 AM, Bathroom Floor

It's three o'clock in the morning, and I'm sitting here on the bathroom floor, reliving that day— reliving your death. If only crying could ease the pain... maybe I could live my life again. But instead, I close my eyes and hear my voice blubbering to 911. Dad is at work—he's safe. I try to call Jaime, but he hangs up because I can't speak. I'm trying to say you're dead and Jacob's been shot, but all that comes out are tears and snot. I think about Javier and Mom, still outside, still in danger, unsure if they’re surviving or joining you. I'm trying— trying to be calm, to be collected, but I hear each gunshot as if it just happened. I open my eyes and look around. I'm not at Mom and Dad's house. I'm two hours away, at my new place where no one knows our story, where no one knows about *that day*. I should be happy. I should take each moment and make it great— that’s what you would say to do. But instead, I’m here, sitting on the bathroom floor, wishing I could escape.