'We've been able to support each other'

Some of their dates have been romantic. Some, just fun.

New Year's Eve fireworks at Navy Pier. Pushing pedals on paddle boats at Lincoln Park Zoo. An afternoon of mini-golf. A visit to Build-A-Bear.

Monique Caspillan and Lhee Santos. She, a 19-year-old nutrition major from Skokie. He, a 21-year-old communications major from Sleepy Hollow. Both enthusiastic about school. Both excited about their future together.

Lhee's older sister matched them up and it worked. One week after their first date, the couple was exclusive. "He's a good listener," Monique says. Lhee likes her looks. "I think she's pretty cute," he says.

With differing majors, the Northern Illinois University students didn't share many classes. Introduction to Ocean Science was an exception.

Shuffling into the late-afternoon session, they sat together as usual. It was Valentine's Day, after all.

Choosing seats near the front and slightly to the right side of the lecture hall, they settled in. It had been a long day and Monique had a headache. Dozing off instead of watching teacher Joseph Peterson's PowerPoint presentation, she closed her eyes.

The slamming of a rear stage door startled her. The deafening blasts of a shotgun. A daytime nightmare. Clothed completely in black, a tall, skinny man started shooting. The professor was his first victim.

A former Dundee-Crown High School sprinter and captain of the track team, Lhee crawled toward the side of the room. Monique followed right behind. "We hugged the wall," Lhee said.

The details are fading, but some images may never leave Monique's memory. "I could only see his feet," she said. "I watched his shoes as he moved down the center aisle, shooting."

After hearing the screams of students fleeing the building, Lhee remembers an eerie silence settling in as the remaining kids huddled under seats, hoping not to arouse the attention of the killer. "It was dead quiet," Lhee said.

Steel buckshot ricocheted off the walls. One pellet hit Monique's bottom lip. "I had a big welt there for weeks," she said. Another pellet hit Lhee in the arm. "Not bad enough to go to the hospital," he said.

The assault lasted minutes, but Monique said it felt like an eternity. "I thought, 'Oh my gosh, this is never going to end.'"

Lhee and Monique found refuge and relief in the company of their families in the days after the shootings.

And now, even though months have passed, Lhee still has violent dreams. He's not comfortable sitting in big lecture halls. "I always pick a spot close to the door," he said.

Monique is doing OK. She's thankful for the one-one-one counseling provided by the university. "It took a couple of months, but I was starting to feel normal again," she said.

The couple decided to return to campus this year despite the ordeal. And they are still together. "We're closer now than we've ever been," Lhee said.

"We've been able to support each other," Monique said.