"I told him most people don't go to church on Wednesdays, but I do.

I'm apart of the Emanuel African Methodist Church choir. Proudly.

Emanuel AME is the oldest African Methodist Episcopal Church in southern United States. We have a long, but uplifting history in Charleston.

I felt like I was boring him so I told him he could google it.I shyly looked down at the floor. And I wondered to myself if I came off as a know it all. I just really adore when we have new members coming to the church, it makes me happy to see more and more people wanting to join the faith."

I could feel my hands quiver as I tried my best to project my voice to the detective. The room is so dark and frigid. The faint sound of phones ringing and busy shuffling footsteps behind the steel door made everything even more real.

I am here.I am alive. Talking to a detective about a racist mass murderer, that I shook hands with and prouldy opened my arms to. I went through my mind, repeating every action and word I uttered to that...murderer.

"I could feel him staring at me. I couldn't remember whether his eyes were blue or...black. I noticed his oddly shaped eyes before he walked in though.His eyes looked gone...like he was just...gone.Like he wasn't really there. He was young,I could tell, so maybe he was a little under the influence."

The detective diligently wrote on his notepad. He took a deep breath in before asking me another question. He looks tired.

"Before he left, did you notice any concealed weapons or strange behavior?"

"No. Before he left...he shook my hand.Smiled and said 'thank you'.He walked away quickly though. Like he had somewhere to be.I thought I scared him away because of how excited I was."

"How long after that meeting with Roof did you hear about the shooting at Morris Street Baptist Church?"

The tears are swelling in my throat.

"I. I got a call from my grandmother during the night."

I paused, replaying how traumatized she sounded.

"She was screaming about blood a-a-and bodies on the floor. I didn't know it was Dylan Roof till his named popped up on the news. I felt like I had remembered the name, like, it sounded familiar. "

The lump in my throat got bigger. Like I just swallowed a big pill without water. I stared at the wall. Taking in the cool air.

All I want right now is a big hug. The detective snapped his pen and touched my hand.

"I understand this is hard for you, but just know, that you are a brave young lady and we appreciate you for coming forward. Okay?" His eyes looked hopeful.

How do I move on? How do I live the rest of my life knowing that I shook hands with a monster? I welcomed a monster into my church with open arms?! He could have massacred me and my family that night. But instead,he ruined the lives of someone else's. And I shook his hand before he did. I will never forget this.

It hurts.

Cause you're growing.

We can't escape.

Backwards metamorphosis.

Nuclear climax.

Then, it's dark.

The tears of regret.

The ugly sadness in the air.

The black attire.

Memories tossed from ear to ear, speaking of all your glory.

The 911 call.

The shivering silence.

The cold embalming table.

You're entire family coming together, standing over your coffin.

It only happens when you're not here.