In the spring of my freshman year in high school, in the small town of Palatka, Florida, located between Crescent City and Jacksonville, I was competing in a junior varsity softball game for my school. Little did I know what the particular outcome of that game would be.
             It was a bright sunny day, March 3, 2000, although it wasn't the best. I remember waking up that morning and nothing seemed to go my way. I put my shirt on inside out, I had two different color socks on, and my hairbrush broke. I absolutely did not want to go to school, but I had to in order to play in my game later that day.
             In addition to my relentless effort not to go to school, my boyfriend, of nearly a year at the time, was scheduled to have surgery on his left knee. Heriberto, my boyfriend, had been playing football and tore his ACL tendon in his left knee. Therefore, that had made my day even worse.
             I made my way through school and began to prepare for the game. As I gathered with my teammates to get seated on the bus, I just had one of those eerie feelings. A weird feeling, like the kind you get when you have to throw up, or no matter what you wear your clothes feel like they are choking you. I had already concluded that something was going to happen.
             Thirty-five minutes later my team and I had arrived at the Palatka High School softball field. Everyone stepped off of the bus and headed toward the visiting dugout. With my team I quickly walked out on the field and began to warm-up. With no desire to play, our warm-up looked rather sloppy and unorganized, again another sign that it was a bad day. Our time to get ready for the game slowly disappeared and the game started.
             At first, it was not as messed up as I thought that it would be, my team was playing fairly good and there had been nothing bad that happened so far. I guess I had counted my eggs before they hatched, because nearly 10 minutes into the second inning something did
             ...