To the men who terrorized my innocence,

The screams that night still plague me, they haunt my midnight hours when I
beg for sleep to take its hold on me.
I remember holding her hand.

the girl I loved.

But, to you, she was just another person in the crowd…
Another victim.
To me, she was honey and roses on a summer morning; she was
the one to save me when I mixed too much Hell with Heaven.
I repaid her with the last few kisses I could muster while her tears intermingled
with our blood.

Just a few hours ago, she was smiling up at me in delight; arms wrapped around my waist
as the music played behind our enclosed bodies.

I held her like this until the bullet ripped her life away from this Earth.

An Earth without her,
It wasn’t someplace I wanted to be.
But I held onto the tidbit of life dancing in front of me;
the one that you had injured but had not stolen.
I couldn’t quite tell which set of crimson belonged to I;
the puddles were drowning all of us.
Which screams were mine?
I’ll never remember and I don’t think I’ll care to;
they all mixed into one loud wail as we fought to grip
the idea of hope.

Trust me,
my lungs were filling with so much hopelessness that
I couldn’t quite remember how to breathe without it within those moments
where I begged for God to take me with her.

But you.
Did you take delight in destroying us?
Her, I, and the others?
I had felt someone grasp my hand right after her’s had fallen away;

You know,
they must have felt me give up. because I knew
It was an encouragement to keep myself breathing;
to keep my lungs from restricting and my soul from rising.

I couldn’t quite tell you how long I thought you were there;
to me,
it felt like years.
I can’t imagine how long it felt for those people who were lined up in front of you
waiting for God to show his face in any form possible.  

The ones who stared down at your guns;
who pleaded for you to rethink your decisions
who had children at home,
who had spouses waiting for their smiles,
who had… families.

Those shots will forever be burned within my memory;
This night,
this horror,
this loss.

But will you wake up screaming,
wondering how you could have saved her?

Will you see their faces in every little corner of the street;
in every thought?

Will you relive the memory of how her hand felt pressed into yours,
right before you lost her?

Will you thank God for that one man who tightened his grip
on your fingers, keeping your mind here,
keeping you alive?

Will you trace the line of stitches along your body,
where the bullets had made a home within your skin?

Will you pray to God that this was only a nightmare,
just to hear Satan laugh in your ears?*

-DDF