I remember sitting at the Junction restaurant with a good friend the night of the shooting. I felt completely overwhelmed and helpless. I felt anxious just sitting there drinking coffee, thinking about everything that was happening just across the street on campus: armed police officers from every town in Northern Illinois, news helicopters, and a lot of caution tape. There was a moment where I could not sit there any longer—I knew I had to do something with the anxiety, fear, and pain growing inside of me. So I started texting all of my friends to meet me in central park between the dormitories to sing our hearts out to God. I wasn’t exactly sure what we would do or what songs we would play, but I knew that it would be healing for all of us to be together and express ourselves in one enjoined chorus of grief and a longing for answers. It was freezing that night—but within that little circle of people singing, there was a supernatural kind of warmth. My hands hurt while I strummed and tried to hold down the chords, but I didn’t care. After a few minutes I opened my eyes and realized that cameras had flooded the scene from various local news organizations. It all felt so surreal. I was interviewed regarding why we had joined together that night. The next morning when I woke up, I learned that my neighbor in the dorms freshman year was one of the students killed in the shooting. It took awhile to feel comfortable in my own skin again.