On Dec. 13, the community that I love most was shattered. Attending class, eating meals, seeing friends ‒ nothing at Brown University will ever be the same.
As I sheltered in place from an active shooter, first in a grocery store and then in a friend’s off-campus house, hundreds of texts flew through my phone. I saw videos of students bleeding out on the ground, just steps from my dorm. Friends were barricaded in tiny rooms with no water, food or access to a bathroom.
With helicopters thundering overhead and sirens blaring throughout the neighborhood, all I could think about was the victims’ families, waiting nervously to hear about their loved ones, not knowing they were about to receive the worst possible news: The gunman killed two students and injured nine that Saturday…