Israel pushed the creaky wooden door of her apartment open. She stood at the entrance for a long few minutes. With a sigh, she kicked the door closed behind her. Dropping her backpack on the ground with a thud, she fell backwards onto her mattress, the springs bouncing her up a little. All she could hear was her still racing heart, the bang of a gun….the open eyes of her dead best friend….she stared at the ceiling, still in shock.

“Come on! Collage will be fun! We can get an apartment together and everything,”

Why had Israel listened to her best friend? If only she had future sight. Then she could have kept her far away from campus. One day maybe people would get a life, maybe some therapy and put down their guns. Why even sell them to people? Why not just sell them to the military? That would solve a lot of the worlds problems if you asked Israel.

That night she tossed and turned, sobbing. Her breath caught in her throat resulting in odd hiccups following the ending of the cry.

Three days from that nightmare, she would attended the funeral not only for her friend, but for all the victims the shooter had claimed. Families broke down at the caskets and she couldn’t take it. Finally she left, hoping that one day people, especially young children, wouldn’t need to be scared of a shootings.