This past Friday night around 9:15 p.m., I was sitting in a board game coffee shop drinking hot cocoa and playing Scrabble with my best friend. Less than half an hour later, I got shot.
Yeah. You read that right. Almost no details are certain, other than that I'm perfectly okay now despite a nasty welt on my abdomen and leftover adrenaline from the intense shock.
I suck at parallel parking, which was the only option in front of the shop- so instead I parked in a lot just a block away from the shop. A safe spot for sure, or so I thought, due to a show going on at the theater down the road and couples here and there on the sidewalks.
We were walking back to the lot to head home around 9:40 when a car sped past and we both heard loud "POP" sounds. No more than a second later, I felt something pierce my lower abdomen.
"What the F*** was that!?" I asked my friend as I jumped at the shock of both the loud sound and the pain of being hit.
"I think it was a rock," she said. "A car just passed, sometimes that happens."
From how calm she stayed, I knew she hadn't felt what I had.
"That was NOT just a rock," I told her, looking around for any sign of a shooter. Nobody. "That felt like a gunshot."
When she asked if I was okay, I said yes and tried to play it off. I wasn't convinced at all that I was okay, but I didn't want to let myself believe I had just been SHOT.
Pretending everything was fine, I drove us both back to her house to drop her off. I managed to get to the stoplight just before the entrance to her neighborhood before the pain really kicked in.
"You okay?" she asked me again. I shook my head. "I don't.. I don't know," I responded.
Once I had parked in front of her house, she had me lift my shirt so she could check for bruising.
"Oh my god that looks bad," she gasped, which only upped my anxiety.
"I'm going to touch it," she told me. "It'll hurt like f*** but I have to see if something is stuck."
As soon as she touched it, I felt a sting and a burn sensation spread through my entire body and broke down crying.
She called her parents from my car right then, and not 20 seconds later they both came out in the cold to get me and ask me what had happened. Luckily for me, my best friend answered most of the questions so I didn't have to.
I don't remember much of what happened in the minutes that followed. I just know I ended up on their couch, being handed water and Ibuprofen.
"We knew something was wrong when we heard her voice on the phone," her mom told me. "We know the sound of her voice when she's upset."
After calling my parents, my best friend sat across from me holding my hand while we waited for them to arrive- which didn't take long.
I have to praise how calm my parents both stayed, too. I'm sure getting a phone call at 10 p.m. that their daughter had been shot downtown wasn't anything less than terrifying- or for that matter anything close to how they imagined their weekend would start, even after confirmation that I was okay.
Someone had wiped the blood away at some point, so by the time my mom asked to see the injury I lifted my shirt to discover someone had covered it with a butterfly band-aid which my friend pulled away for me.
"Yikes," my mom said, shocked. "Have you reported this to the police?"
We hadn't. We filled her in on all the details we could recall and she called 911. While we waited for the officer to show up, our families spent the time doing what we've always done- making conversation and of course jokes.
"I was closer to the street of the two of us, so I'm not sure how she was the one who got hit," my friend told them.
"You mean you didn't jump in front to protect her!?" my mom teased. "I guess she did that for you."
"I literally took a bullet for you," I half-joked (mostly because I doubted it was an actual bullet, but I wanted to make the pun and this was my chance) as I sat up slowly.
"You owe her now," her dad laughed. "Big time."
She laughed, too.
"I just wonder why it was her if I was closer," she went on.
"I know, right?" my dad fired back. "If I was to shoot one of the two of you, it'd definitely be you."
He's always given her a hard time. Besides not being blood-related, she's as much of a daughter to him as I am. That's what happens when you grow up right beside someone.
"Well, thank you for letting us know she was okay," my mom spoke up. "Gave me time to change out of my pajamas and into real pants before we drove here!"
You must know you've really got the parenting thing down pat when you get a call that your kid has been shot and you still take the time to make yourself as presentable as possible. Dedication at its finest, I tell you what. I'm a lucky girl.
Props to my dad, too, for wearing a black jacket so my mascara didn't ruin anything when I cried into it.
When everyone took their turn asking me what I remembered about the car, I had the same answer.
"I mean, I remember that there was one," I said. "I didn't pay much attention to it. I didn't expect to get shot at."
When asked why I parked a block away from where we had gone, I spoke one of the ugliest truths I've ever heard or said.
"I wasn't gonna try and parallel park and risk wrecking," I said. "No regrets. A gunshot wound is better than an insurance payment."
My mom smiled and shook her head. "I can't believe you just said that." But I did, and it's still true.
When the officer arrived and asked me where I go to school, I told her about WSU.
"She's studying Criminal Justice, ironically," my mom chimed in.
"Yeah, and we've just been talking about drive-by shootings," I added as I rolled my eyes. "This was field work!"
"I need to get a couple pictures of the injury," the officer told me as I gladly lifted my shirt for the fiftieth time in half an hour. "Sorry I'm making you half-strip."
"It's nothing," I joked. "I grew up here."
After getting pictures of the shot, responding to a series of eyewitness/victim survey questions and getting all of the police report information, the officer left and it was our two families in the living room again.
"Well it's nice to get to see you guys again," my mom said. "Just wish it was under better circumstances."
And yes, the circumstances were awful, but considering how much worse it could have been, I feel very lucky.
Very attacked, but very lucky.
Someone out there probably got away with what they did and is feeling pretty bulletproof, while I'm left with a bandaged wound on my stomach and the frustration of first-hand experiencing the carelessness of certain selfish fools. But as much as I wish it never would've happened, I'm incredibly grateful for the people I had by my side when it did.
You can go through infinite good things with almost anyone, but I truly think you only realize how lucky you are when you're at your lowest and the people you love most are still there with you. Still standing beside you, still making you laugh, and still making you feel like you could take on the world.
I'm very lucky in that I had not one family by my side that night, but two. Two sets of loving parents, two warm homes to come back to, and two more reasons to appreciate my life as it is.
So thank you to everyone who has been calling, texting, emailing, and coming up to me to ask if I'm okay. And yes, to answer all of your questions, I'm more than okay. I'm here, I'm lucky, and for the foreseeable future, we still get to love each other.
That's worth everything.
When I got home around 11:30 that night, I opened a fortune cookie my mom had left on the counter after dinner.
"You are about to embark on a path that will lead you to sunshine," is what it said, and I couldn't help but smile.
"I'll embark on that path," I mumbled to myself. "It's worth a shot."
Yeah. You read that right. Almost no details are certain, other than that I'm perfectly okay now despite a nasty welt on my abdomen and leftover adrenaline from the intense shock.
I suck at parallel parking, which was the only option in front of the shop- so instead I parked in a lot just a block away from the shop. A safe spot for sure, or so I thought, due to a show going on at the theater down the road and couples here and there on the sidewalks.
We were walking back to the lot to head home around 9:40 when a car sped past and we both heard loud "POP" sounds. No more than a second later, I felt something pierce my lower abdomen.
"What the F*** was that!?" I asked my friend as I jumped at the shock of both the loud sound and the pain of being hit.
"I think it was a rock," she said. "A car just passed, sometimes that happens."
From how calm she stayed, I knew she hadn't felt what I had.
"That was NOT just a rock," I told her, looking around for any sign of a shooter. Nobody. "That felt like a gunshot."
When she asked if I was okay, I said yes and tried to play it off. I wasn't convinced at all that I was okay, but I didn't want to let myself believe I had just been SHOT.
Pretending everything was fine, I drove us both back to her house to drop her off. I managed to get to the stoplight just before the entrance to her neighborhood before the pain really kicked in.
"You okay?" she asked me again. I shook my head. "I don't.. I don't know," I responded.
Once I had parked in front of her house, she had me lift my shirt so she could check for bruising.
"Oh my god that looks bad," she gasped, which only upped my anxiety.
"I'm going to touch it," she told me. "It'll hurt like f*** but I have to see if something is stuck."
As soon as she touched it, I felt a sting and a burn sensation spread through my entire body and broke down crying.
She called her parents from my car right then, and not 20 seconds later they both came out in the cold to get me and ask me what had happened. Luckily for me, my best friend answered most of the questions so I didn't have to.
I don't remember much of what happened in the minutes that followed. I just know I ended up on their couch, being handed water and Ibuprofen.
"We knew something was wrong when we heard her voice on the phone," her mom told me. "We know the sound of her voice when she's upset."
After calling my parents, my best friend sat across from me holding my hand while we waited for them to arrive- which didn't take long.
I have to praise how calm my parents both stayed, too. I'm sure getting a phone call at 10 p.m. that their daughter had been shot downtown wasn't anything less than terrifying- or for that matter anything close to how they imagined their weekend would start, even after confirmation that I was okay.
Someone had wiped the blood away at some point, so by the time my mom asked to see the injury I lifted my shirt to discover someone had covered it with a butterfly band-aid which my friend pulled away for me.
"Yikes," my mom said, shocked. "Have you reported this to the police?"
We hadn't. We filled her in on all the details we could recall and she called 911. While we waited for the officer to show up, our families spent the time doing what we've always done- making conversation and of course jokes.
"I was closer to the street of the two of us, so I'm not sure how she was the one who got hit," my friend told them.
"You mean you didn't jump in front to protect her!?" my mom teased. "I guess she did that for you."
"I literally took a bullet for you," I half-joked (mostly because I doubted it was an actual bullet, but I wanted to make the pun and this was my chance) as I sat up slowly.
"You owe her now," her dad laughed. "Big time."
She laughed, too.
"I just wonder why it was her if I was closer," she went on.
"I know, right?" my dad fired back. "If I was to shoot one of the two of you, it'd definitely be you."
He's always given her a hard time. Besides not being blood-related, she's as much of a daughter to him as I am. That's what happens when you grow up right beside someone.
"Well, thank you for letting us know she was okay," my mom spoke up. "Gave me time to change out of my pajamas and into real pants before we drove here!"
You must know you've really got the parenting thing down pat when you get a call that your kid has been shot and you still take the time to make yourself as presentable as possible. Dedication at its finest, I tell you what. I'm a lucky girl.
Props to my dad, too, for wearing a black jacket so my mascara didn't ruin anything when I cried into it.
When everyone took their turn asking me what I remembered about the car, I had the same answer.
"I mean, I remember that there was one," I said. "I didn't pay much attention to it. I didn't expect to get shot at."
When asked why I parked a block away from where we had gone, I spoke one of the ugliest truths I've ever heard or said.
"I wasn't gonna try and parallel park and risk wrecking," I said. "No regrets. A gunshot wound is better than an insurance payment."
My mom smiled and shook her head. "I can't believe you just said that." But I did, and it's still true.
When the officer arrived and asked me where I go to school, I told her about WSU.
"She's studying Criminal Justice, ironically," my mom chimed in.
"Yeah, and we've just been talking about drive-by shootings," I added as I rolled my eyes. "This was field work!"
"I need to get a couple pictures of the injury," the officer told me as I gladly lifted my shirt for the fiftieth time in half an hour. "Sorry I'm making you half-strip."
"It's nothing," I joked. "I grew up here."
After getting pictures of the shot, responding to a series of eyewitness/victim survey questions and getting all of the police report information, the officer left and it was our two families in the living room again.
"Well it's nice to get to see you guys again," my mom said. "Just wish it was under better circumstances."
And yes, the circumstances were awful, but considering how much worse it could have been, I feel very lucky.
Very attacked, but very lucky.
Someone out there probably got away with what they did and is feeling pretty bulletproof, while I'm left with a bandaged wound on my stomach and the frustration of first-hand experiencing the carelessness of certain selfish fools. But as much as I wish it never would've happened, I'm incredibly grateful for the people I had by my side when it did.
You can go through infinite good things with almost anyone, but I truly think you only realize how lucky you are when you're at your lowest and the people you love most are still there with you. Still standing beside you, still making you laugh, and still making you feel like you could take on the world.
I'm very lucky in that I had not one family by my side that night, but two. Two sets of loving parents, two warm homes to come back to, and two more reasons to appreciate my life as it is.
So thank you to everyone who has been calling, texting, emailing, and coming up to me to ask if I'm okay. And yes, to answer all of your questions, I'm more than okay. I'm here, I'm lucky, and for the foreseeable future, we still get to love each other.
That's worth everything.
When I got home around 11:30 that night, I opened a fortune cookie my mom had left on the counter after dinner.
"You are about to embark on a path that will lead you to sunshine," is what it said, and I couldn't help but smile.
"I'll embark on that path," I mumbled to myself. "It's worth a shot."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
note:
a police report was filed immediately after I was shot, but nothing is known about who it may have been or what kind of weapon was involved.
because neither of us were able to get a good look at the car, we had very little information to provide.
police scanner picked up a number of reports of gunshot sounds in the downtown area that night.
assumption is that it wasn't anything more than a BB or pellet that hit me, but we don't know for sure.
there are two things I do know.
1) being shot feels horrible, emotionally and physically, but 2) I couldn't be any luckier.
(especially to have a best friend who stands by me even when shots are fired)
xox,
live boldly, love a lot.
you never know what could happen.
You should make a youtube and do story times!!! Like detailed experiences of your blogs or behind the scenes of writing your book
ReplyDeleteI'd be lying if I said I haven't considered it, but for a lot of what I write about there wouldn't be anything very exciting to film. With this experience, it was something I obviously wouldn't have had the chance to video even if I had wanted to, and for the rest of the subjects I use as inspiration there's not enough to keep someone captivated. I've also chosen to write rather than to vlog because it's how I express myself best, and if a camera is involved I'm nowhere near as raw and as creative as I'd like to be so a lot of my freedom kinda disappears. But I'm not completely against it, I'm just seeing how things go and where they go from where I am now. Thank you for your input and ideas! (And for reading!) Xox
Delete