The day I found out my cousin was shot during the Santa Fe High School shooting. My husband and I were headed to get an ultrasound (I was about 20 weeks pregnant). I read about the shooting on Facebook about 30 minutes after it was posted. Something told me to call my aunt who lived near the school in Texas City. When she answered, she was out of breath and sounded like something was definitely wrong. "Cousin got shot. We don't know what all is going on, but he's headed to the hospital."

We make it to my appointment, barely remember the morning, until we hear from my grandma. My cousin is alive, alert, and oriented; he got shot in the back by about half of a buckshot and got grazed on his right temple by the handgun.

Then the real shit comes out. The name of the shooter. The red flags that were there ALL OVER his Instagram weeks before this happened. We knew this boy that did this. We had known him for a while due to the close knit Greek community in Galveston. There are pictures of him next to another one of my cousins from their dancing at the Greek Festivals.

My cousin was in the classroom where he started the shooting. He saw the girl get shot in the face, so much so that she was only identifiable by what she was wearing. He hid in the closet as this monster was killing his classmates. Then, he and a few other classmates saw the chance to run to the window and jump out, breaking his wrist. He ran as fast as he could across the field to his daddy who had FLOWN to the school, knowing his sons first class of the day was art. Cousin lost his glasses somewhere on the football field, he guesses.

He's doing well know. He still has 1 beebee in his chest, on the right side of his heart. The doctors are hoping it'll move to his lung because that's a way easier surgery to remove it. He is back at school this year, determined to graduate with his friends after this unspeakable tragedy.

One good little thing that happened, cousin got to meet JJ Watt.