**UPDATE**

Thank you to everyone who contributed donations, words of encouragement, or guidance in the process of bringing Kirra home. She has started her training and is well on her way. We are ever so grateful to say that there has been an organization that has offered her training for free. However, we still have expenses associated with her maintenance and care. Those expenses being food, medical, the cost of having her spayed, and service dog equipment. I’m still fundraising trying to cover these cost. Any donations are greatly appreciated! 

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My name is Breanna Green, I’m 19 years old, I am a high school mass shooting survivor and I am funding raising to buy a trained service dog. This service dog will help me to regain a new sense of normalcy, independence, and the ability to interact with others again.

 

On February 14, 2018, my school became known as the destination of the worst high school mass shooting in US history. I attended Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. At the time of the shooting, I was a normal sophomore in high school.

 

The day began like any other day. The only difference was that it was Valentine’s Day. My friends and I had planned to celebrate it amongst ourselves that year. We planned for weeks in advance as to what we would gift each other. I had long awaited the day, but I had no idea what was in store. Biology was my 4th-period class that day. My classroom faced the doors of the freshman 1200 building, where the shooting occurred. Though it was Valentine’s Day, we still had a test. After 50 minutes, I finally completed the test. I decided to take a restroom break to stretch my legs. Everything was eerily silent. On my way back to class, I ran into my Track & Field coach. We talked and laughed before he encouraged me back to class. After returning to class, a few minutes later, another one of my classmates took her turn to go. Before the door could close behind her, we heard a bang.

 

All of us began looking at each other in confusion. We had a fairly quiet campus, hearing anything extremely loud was not normal. My brain began to search for rational answers. A golf cart? A computer cart? A car crash? As my mind raced, our classmate returned. She looked faint and terrified. She walked out of the classroom, reached the doors of the 1200 building, heard the bang, and raced back to class. We all sat in silence, waiting for what would come next. Seconds felt like minutes. With no warning, the fire alarm began to blare. We sat frozen. We had already had a fire drill in second period, that day. We never had more than one scheduled fire drill on the same day. I began to internally panic. Something wasn’t right. Our teacher instructed us to grab our things and head out the back door. I was going through the motions. I was moving, but it felt as if I was watching what was happening like it wasn’t real. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. We were at school, we should be safe here. The walk felt like it took an eternity. We were headed to the football field. Before we could reach the field, a series of shots rang out. We all simultaneously turned toward the sound of the gunfire. It was coming from the 1200 building.

 

The shots continued one after another. Again and again and again. I looked at our teacher and she looked just as stunned as we were. A few students tried to rationalize the sound, trying to convince others that they were firecrackers. I had never heard a gunshot in my life before that day. Though I had never heard it, it was instantly recognizable. The bullets were hitting things. They were hitting people. As our fear skyrocketed, a few students from a different area, ran across the parking lot. Three of them ran our way. One ran past us and kept going, while the other two were running together. One of the boys was limping. He was shouting “He shot me! He shot me!” As I scanned his body to see where he’d been hurt, I saw it. He’d been shot in the ankle. His foot was dangling. Blood had splattered on his leg and we could see the tissue of his foot. The second boy said to us “Someone is shooting in the 1200 building, RUN!” My world stopped. Someone was shooting. They were killing people.

 

I didn’t give myself time to think, I knew I had to get away in order to survive. I began to run as fast as my feet would carry me. I took off towards the football field. Seconds now felt like hours. Gunshots continued to ring out behind me. As I ran to the fence, I dropped my backpack and attempted to heave myself over. My fear had turned into sheer terror. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t grab the fence. At that moment, I realized that making it over the fence may have been the difference between life and death. I did not want to die. I pulled myself together enough to launch myself over the fence. I was running as fast as I could and I still felt like I wasn’t running fast enough. The thought on repeat in my mind was “I don’t want to die.”

 

The neighboring middle school was beginning its lockdown procedure. A very generous staff member let us in when we told her that we were running for safety. She instructed us to hide in the bathroom and to be absolutely silent. Three of my classmates and I found shelter in the bathroom. We were in shock. What just happened? We embraced each other immediately and began calling our parents. When talking to my parents, I managed to choke out that someone was shooting at school between panicked breaths. I explained everything that was happening and I couldn’t believe the words leaving my mouth. School is supposed to be a safe place. Students were contacting each other trying to find out what had happened. It was chaos. There were talks of computers with bullet holes, desks with bullet holes, shattered window glass, blood, and injured students. I could hear the helicopters flying overhead. As I heard them, reality began to sink in. I began to think about everything happening at that moment, I knew it was worse than I thought.

 

After hiding in the bathroom, a staff member escorted us to the custodial closet in the cafeteria. Not soon after, a team of about thirty SWAT officers instructed us to raise our hands and walk toward them. At this point, the shooter had not been apprehended. Once we identified ourselves to the officers, we were then taken to a safe holding space until we could be reunited with our parents. Hours later, when I was reunited with my parents, a giant relief washed over me. I didn’t have to worry about my safety anymore. I didn’t have to try to keep from being killed. I was safe. It wasn’t until I got home that I began to truly understand the magnitude of what had happened.

 

The number of police officers, sirens, helicopters, ambulances, and SWAT officers with long guns, were a testament to that. Fourteen students were killed, three staff were killed, seventeen were wounded, and countless students and staff were left traumatized. That was the day my life changed.

 

After experiencing that life-changing event, I felt no place was safe. I felt I had to protect myself at all times. I slept in my parent’s room for months after the shooting. I couldn’t shower, sleep, or go outside by myself. I would attempt to sleep during the day to avoid nightmares at night. I would pass out from sheer exhaustion and lack of sleep. I could not watch TV or be on social media as the shooting was talked about constantly. I had limited movement outside because of the police and the news station's presence in the city.

 

Shortly after the shooting, I developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I experienced, and continue to experience, nightmares, insomnia, hyper-vigilance, panic and anxiety attacks, depression, flashbacks, survivor's guilt, and increased sensitivity to loud noises.

 

The change that I have experienced from being an individual with PTSD, has been significant. The life activities I once was able to participate in and enjoy, I cannot do so comfortably anymore. The activities that I would have done as a young adult, I cannot do without the assistance of a devoted family member. I do not do well in new, enclosed, or open spaces. These places invoke feelings of panic due to not being able to hide or escape. I was an athlete for nine years running Track & Field competitively. The track was my space of peace and a place to let all other things leave my mind. The feeling I had running track before the shooting was not the same feeling I had running with PTSD. The sport I long loved, became a trigger. At the start of every race, the starting gun fires, to begin the race. However, I could not focus on competing with the sound of the gun. I would simply freeze at the line or not be able to remember anything after the starting gun fired. I could not focus at practice and would often break down during rest periods. The sport I long enjoyed became something I had to walk away from. Track & Field wasn’t the only dream that I had to put on the back burner.

 

My dream of being able to go away for college after graduation was also halted. I long hoped that I would be able to go off to college and be able to experience my next chapter in life. With my inability to function in new environments, be around people I don’t know, and be in a large group setting for class, that was a hope that I had to postpone. My life, in general, has been significantly affected. I don’t have the ability to grocery shop, go to doctor's appointments, or even go to movie theaters, on my own.

 

I began to feel hopeless. I started to feel as though I would never be able to experience happiness or joy the way I did before the shooting. After a few years of trying different therapies and techniques, I realized a service dog is a necessary option to help with my PTSD. After lengthy research, I discovered that service dogs can help with a plethora of PTSD symptoms for example; helping me during a panic or anxiety attack, helping to create a physical buffer between myself and nonfamiliar people, the ability to alert me if someone I do not see is approaching me, waking me up during a night terror, accompanying me to my college campus and alert others if I am in crisis. After careful consideration of this new life-changing event, My parents and I decided that this would be the best next step in healing and living a near-normal life with PTSD. Service dogs are incredibly intelligent and specifically trained dogs that help their owner with their disability. Due to the specific training my dog would receive, her cost and current expenses will be $14,000. This cost includes the service dog, supplies, equipment, insurance, food, and more. This is where your help would be greatly appreciated! Any and every donation helps me get closer to bringing my service dog home. Whatever amount you can donate is greatly appreciated.

 

I have found my service dog prospect and her name is Kira. I am trying to bring her home by the first of June 2022. She is a loving, sweet, and even-tempered German Shepherd. With Kira’s help, I look forward to being able to do more activities such as attending class on my college campus this fall and doing things that a normal 19-year-old would do. With my amazing furry partner by my side, I’ll be able to regain a sense of life after trauma.

 

Again, whatever amount you can donate is greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time, consideration, and donation.