As I sit here and drink my coffee at eight o’clock in the morning, I realize I have been up well over 24 hours. I haven’t been sleeping because when I close my eyes, all I can see is the tall bright green building that comes to a point at the top. My eyes were fixated on the building with the rotating ball that lit up the dark sky and all of the other beautiful lights on the rest of the city buildings in downtown Dallas. One of the most amazing views I have ever seen, especially when growing up I only wanted to live in a big city. Imagine looking at that wonderful sight and seeing your future in the next year or two.
Now, imagine looking at that and then hearing the sound of a gun being cocked back and the words, “Don’t move and give me all you got.”
Gunpoint.
My day was amazing and my night was even better—up until that moment, until being held at gunpoint.
My cousin and I hadn’t seen each other in a while; I missed her. I didn’t have anything else to do so I hopped on a plane and made my way to her. When I landed, I waited a while because my cousin has no sense of direction (and, I believe she got lost about three times before actually making it to Terminal B). We grabbed lunch, hit some shopping places, and she took me to get the best corn and tacos I have ever had in my life—mmm, now I want more! We caught up on life stories and laughed until there were tears in our eyes and stomach pains. Ya know, the best kind of laughs when you feel like you’re growing a six pack. We met up with her husband, stopped at a nice restaurant, and then headed back to their place. More smiles and giggles and then its time I got ready.
Gunpoint.
I was going back out that night. Not with my cousin or her husband, but with a friend from back home. I’d just recently found out he lives in Dallas and decided to meet up with him and catch up. He took me to this really cool bar. The bar had lots of flashing lights and upbeat music, which is my type of vibe. Every once in a while, I caught myself bobbing my head or moving my hips to the beat. Music is one of my outlets I could listen to music all day long, if society and my daily routine allowed me to.
He and I talked for about an hour or two about anything and everything. He mentioned that I ask really good questions but I blame that on me just being nosey. I get that trait from my dad. Our conversation never died but as the night got later, we both realized that we had to wrap it up at some point.
Gunpoint.
Before we got up he looked at me and said, “I want to take you to the place that made me fall in love with Dallas and the reason why I moved here.” Well when you put it like that who wouldn’t want to see this place, right?
As we pulled up and got out of the car, I saw it. I saw why this view would make anyone want to move to a city like that. It made me want to go home, pack all of my things, and be back by the next morning. The weather was amazing—not too cold and not too hot with justthe right amount of breeze. I looked at this beautiful view, soaking it all in, thinking that this could potentially be a place for me to call home. We then began to make our way back to the car, but we were blindsided by two men holding two guns.
Gunpoint.
People always have conversations about what they would do if they were ever in a situation like this. Ya know—“Oh I would fight them” or “Oh I would run for my life” or “Oh I would try and talk my way out of it”. But truth be told, there is no telling what you would do until you are actually in that position.
As I step back with my right foot, my smile instantly disappears; I hear the sound of this guy in a black hoodie cock back his gun and place it on my friend’s side. Simultaneously, I felt a heavy metal object being placed in the middle of my back.
Gunpoint. “Don’t move and give me all you got.”
The words just repeat over and over again. I put both hands up and let them violate me—stripping my purse off of me and snatching my necklace, watching them dig into my friends pockets and take everything.
This 45 second robbery felt like 20 minutes and the whole time,I wasn’t scared. I didn’t cry or scream. I just stood there numb, paralyzed, and helpless. I couldn’t move. I was defenseless, I felt exposed and powerless. Gunpoint.
I could not even get a good look at them because my eyes were fixed on the gun. My eyes couldn’t move from looking at his finger on the trigger. One squeeze from his right index finger and it could have all went so differently. Being held at gunpoint is a life-changing event and something I thought I would never experience—standing there, not knowing if my most recent breath would be my last, wondering if I would be able to see my family again, thinking about if I lived my life in the way that I should have.
I will tell you what, though: the reason why I am still here is because of my friend.
They took everything from us: wallets which held cards, cash, IDs; our phones; jewelry; and my car keys were stolen. They took his car keys out of his pocket and threw them about five feet away from us. Other than our bodies, the only thing they left us with were his car keys. When it was all said and done and they started running away, my friend and I both looked at each other speechless. After a solid minute his first four words out of his mouth were “I am so sorry.”
How could I be mad at him, though? What was he sorry for? He just experienced the same exact thing that I did. We were in that situation together. He shouldn’t have been sorry; if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have known what to do because I was frozen. He guided me to safety. It took us a little over 3 mile run (at least that it was it felt like) and jumping off a bridge that maybe was 2-3 stories high (my body felt that later). I was able to walk away because of him.
Coming home was a hassle, what with trying to get my boarding pass and getting past TSA. Without an ID, it was a nightmare, but having to tell everyone why I didn’t have an ID was even worse. As I sat there waiting on my flight to start boarding, I became anxious because being around so many people that I didn’t know started freaking me out. I began to study everyone around me—just in case.
I am on edge because now I am constantly thinking that something like this is going to happen again. I don’t like to walk alone; I have been staying with my parents just to feel safe. I look around at all times and make sure no one looks suspicious. I can’t sleep because I have nightmares recalling that moment that I never want to relive again.
At the end of the day, I walked away alive and everything that was taken wasn’t worth more than my life. I will eventually be mentally and emotionally okay, but as of right now I think I’ll stick to my parents’ spare bedroom. It’s where I feel most safe.
Cock back. Gunpoint.
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