CORAL SPRINGS, Fla. _ He thought he'd be safe backstage, out of the spotlight, away from the shadows that prowled the edges of his vision when his guard was down.
Crowds spooked him now. It was seven weeks since he had locked eyes with a black-masked gunman taking aim at him in the midst of the worst school shooting in Florida's history. Seven weeks since he'd made the split-second decision that saved his life but left a softball-sized hole in his leg. Seven weeks since he'd seen bullets lodging in the wall around him as he ran past bodies of his classmates in a wild panic to survive.
But at this annual gathering of Broward County teens, 15-year-old Kyle Laman thought he'd be OK, sitting tucked to the side, his wheelchair glinting in the half-light reflected from the audience. The high school freshman, flanked by friends, was there to listen to politicians and students discuss a topic dominating conversations across the United States and newly vital to Kyle: school safety.
Then he glimpsed something in the crowd _ a dark figure, a shadow, a movement _ that took on an all-too-familiar shape.
The reaction was swift and involuntary. Blood rushed through his body, his temperature rose and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. His eyes fixed on the shadow. He couldn't look away.
It was Feb. 14 again.
For the past 2 { months, the survivors of confessed shooter Nikolas Cruz's schoolhouse slaughter have begun to bear new burdens: the crippling guilt of survival, the excruciating process of recovery. The tormenting reminders of the day when a barrage of bullets ripped through their affluent South Florida suburb and left them with death and broken bodies and fear.
For Kyle, there are days when the bad thoughts are dormant, when he thinks he's conquering the pain. There are times when he makes it through almost the entire school day, and days when he goes to physical therapy, watches movies on the couch or wades in the pool like any other teen.
The day at the Teen Political Forum seemed like it could be one of those days _ and an accomplishment. Willingly attending a loud event with an impassioned crowd isn't easy. But Cruz followed him there, too.
In an instant, Kyle was back in the hallway at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. The fire alarm ringing. A cluster of students moving slowly at first and then scattering to reveal Cruz _ looking straight at him and lifting the muzzle of an AR-15.
There are days when the images overpower Kyle, when he's in class or in a mass of people, at home where he feels safest or when it grows silent. Cruz barges back into his life.
Cruz and the gun, pointed at him. Cruz and the gun. Cruz and the gun. Cruz and the gun.
Kyle tried to put words to the feelings. "You automatically feel unsafe. Your brain is on total shutdown, blocking everything ... I don't want anyone to go through what I went through ... knowing what my brain has seen and what I've seen."
In the auditorium, his friend and fellow MSD student Kellie Wanamaker noticed he was staring at one spot without blinking. She saw him trying to jolt himself out of the flashback with a trick he has developed since the shooting, snapping his fingers and shaking his head. She could see it wasn't working.
"What happened," she asked, shaking him on the shoulder. "Are you OK?"
That did it. He looked around, breathed.
"Yeah, I'm good," he told her. "I'm fine...ish."
In the months that follow mass shootings, the grisly details often blur in the public consciousness. People become saturated. What just about everyone will remember about Feb.14, 2018: A teenage gunman killed 17 people, mostly students, as he went floor to floor in a building at a Florida high school. For those who live in the area, a few more details _ but not many more _ will stick.
But for the ones who lived through it, the moments remain horrifyingly crisp. Classes have resumed but the emotional price is still being tallied. No one knows yet whether survivors like Kyle will be able to rebuild their lives, or if Cruz will claim another victim.
On that sunny day in Parkland, six people were murdered on the third floor of the 1200 building , and 11 more on the first floor.
Seventeen people were wounded and lived, three of them on the third floor.
Kyle was one of them.
