Not Bulletproof - Still Invincible
Trauma Anyone? Loss and Survival Against My Will
This is my story that has never before been shared.
Deep in the dark and dirty pit of addiction, I had lost my will to live. Due to my own, personally inflicted demise, there was nothing left to lose. I was lucky enough to have recently met and fallen in love with a fun and amazing man – whom also had a death wish. He was the one person that picked me up when I was alone and broken after getting news that my best friend was murdered. He taught me to have fun, which was dangerous when the two of us were not afraid to die. He looked at me one day and said, “If there's not a chance I might die, I don't want to do it,” to which I replied, “I will follow you anywhere.” We were inseparable and nothing and nobody else in the world mattered. It was our world and everyone else was living in it.
Our illusion of grandiosity was brought to a immediate halt on October 5, 2020. We pulled up to the property we had been working on all day. We were hoping to finish the job that night so we didn't have to go back the next day and work in the heat again. We noticed it was not the same way we left it and he called me over to him. I felt the fear in my gut, but I pushed it out of my mind because, after all, he was my All American Bad Ass and we were, of course, invincible. As I stood next to him I saw movement about 50 yards away and I pointed to the person hiding behind a bush. Two men came walking towards us and with his right arm he put me behind him and held me close to his back. He was a foot taller than me so I couldn't see anything and he wouldn't let me move. I could tell he was concerned. I peeked my head around him and was instantly blinded by the brightest flashlight I had ever seen. He yanked me back behind him, holding me tighter. They were speaking Spanish and we couldn't understand what they were saying. When they got close to us I could tell by their tone of voice they were mad. That's when he turned me around and kept his arms around me, urging me to run. Gunshots rang out all around us. We made it about 20 feet before we went down. He told me to get up and go. I didn't understand why he wasn't going with me. He hollered at them as I got up. I was only able to go another 25 feet. I had gunshot wounds in each leg and another on my back shoulder and I didn't know how many or where else I was shot. While it hadn't started hurting, one of my legs refused to even move and the other wasn't strong enough to stand on.
I was laying face down in the dirt, unable to move, still trying to figure out what was actually happening. I heard footsteps coming toward me so I held my breath and didn't move. All I could see were shoes, that were not that of my love. I held my breath until they walked away. When they were out of sight, I crawled under the truck. I could hear yelling in Spanish and I heard my love screaming as they tortured him. Why didn't I have a gun on me? Could I make it to the car to get one without them seeing me? I started texting people because I couldn't talk on the phone or they would hear me. I waited what felt like a decade and finally heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
I was shot three times and was taken by ambulance to the local hospital. My love made it to the hospital with one gunshot would through his chest, which hit both his heart and lung. He died within minutes of arriving at the hospital. This hospital forced me to leave less than two hours after getting there. I begged for them to keep me. They gave me crutches and made me leave. I went to a different hospital two days later, where I as kept for two weeks.
He gave his life protecting me. I was mad about it for a while. I wanted to go with him. Addiction was no longer holding me in the pits of hell, but I had a new hell to get through. It has only been seven months, but I no longer have a death wish. I refuse to let his sacrifice be for nothing. I live each day to make him proud.