April 20, 1999—the day that changed Sarah Dodrill's life forever. Anyone who's seen the security video footage from inside Columbine High School's cafeteria has seen Sarah. A mass of students dashes up the stairs, exiting the cafeteria. When it appears that no more kids are coming, Sarah rushes into the frame. She's wearing jeans and a white t–shirt with an unbuttoned plaid shirt over it. The shirt billows as she runs; the tail flaps against her hip when she turns to race up the staircase. As she's taking that first step, her head snaps around at the violent sounds behind her.

We don't see it on the tape, but teacher Dave Sanders ran up the stairs after she did. It was then that he was shot. Sanders's voice, urging students to flee, is what saved Sarah's life.

"I was eating lunch in the cafeteria when some boys came running in, yelling," she says. "Mr. Sanders jumped up and shouted, 'Get down!'"

Sarah, not knowing what was going on, obeyed the order and ducked under a table, but when she heard everyone screaming and saw them starting to run, she got out from under the table and ran up the steps with gunshots ringing out behind her. Once on the second floor, Sarah had two choices: she could turn left into the choir room, or she could turn right and go into the library. She turned left. It was a decision that probably saved her life.

What Sarah didn't know at the time was that two fellow Columbine students, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, were embarking on the deadliest high school shooting spree this country has ever seen. The two wounded many and killed 12 students and a teacher before turning their guns on themselves that fateful day.

For nearly four hours, Sarah was one of dozens trapped in the small office adjoining the choir room. "There were 60 people crowded into that tiny office," she recalls. "I was tucked into a corner, and it was scary because it sounded like the bullets were right outside that wall."

How do you deal with trauma like that? For Sarah, it was prayer. "My faith has always been a big part of my life, and I needed it that day more than ever. I felt that God was in control, and I prayed for His protection. Even though I was scared, I knew that if something did happen to me, I was going to be with God if I died." At age 16, Sarah's faith was stronger than that of many adults.

Sarah's thoughts weren't centered only on her own safety. One of her friends, a fellow Columbine student, kept flashing through her head. "She was someone I had been trying to tell about God, and I didn't know if she was a Christian or not; I didn't know what would happen to her after she died if she were to be shot that day," she says. "I kept praying that she would be safe and that God would keep everyone safe."

Sarah recognized the girl squeezed next to her in the tight, suffocating room. "I knew her from Bible club. She said, 'Let's pray together,' but there were more gunshots, so we stayed quiet."

Four hours later, the students heard a pounding on the door. "It frightened us, because we didn't know for sure who it was," Sarah says.

A voice shouted to them from the other side of the door, "This is the police. Open up." The SWAT team had finally come to rescue them.

Sarah was shocked at what she saw as she left the building. "We started walking out, and it was just amazing what had happened to the school. Every window that I saw had bullets through it—there was broken glass everywhere. In the cafeteria, there was ankle–deep water because the sprinklers had gone off. The ceiling was blackened from explosions."

As Sarah and the other students exited the building, they couldn't keep their eyes from drifting off to the side where the body of a student who had been shot and killed still lay on the sidewalk.