Ready. Aim. Fire. I'm not afraid of guns. In fact, I actually own and actively go shooting. Being afraid of guns itself is not my problem. My problem is when the gun is not in my hands, but in the hands of someone else. See, the thing that not many people know about me is that I barely escaped a school shooting. I was a child - ten years old to be exact. Bullying is something that each and every one of us have faced at some point in time in our lives, but in my case? It got so bad that the kid vowed to take my life.
Let me back up and explain this a bit. I was in the fourth grade and mind you, that was fourteen years ago. I was being kicked, hit, and tripped by this guy that later cornered me asking me to date him! Yes, you read that right. The guy who left bruises on my body, made me dread going to school and made me cry everyday had just asked me to be his girlfriend. My mom always taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all, but I just had to tell this guy that he was completely crazy if he thought I would date him. Looking back on it now, I should have done something differently. This guy looked me straight in the eye, puffed his chest out and said, "if I can't have you - nobody can." At the time, I didn't read too much into it. I just figured he'd kick me extra hard the next day or maybe trip me in the hall again, but I never would have expected this. The next day as my mom was dropping my brother and I off by the office, we noticed the sheriff's cruiser sitting out front with the lights on. I saw my friends standing around and while I walked to them I noticed that Forrest, my bully, the guy who just threatened me the day before was being escorted to the cruiser with his hands handcuffed behind his back. My heart sank as I locked eyes with him. There was no kindness in his eyes. I wanted so desperately to look away, but I couldn't. The look that I saw in that kids eye that day still haunts me to this day. It is permanently burned into my memory. I still didn't know what had happened. My heart was still pounding in my ears as I felt my friend run up and lock her arms around my shoulders. Her voice cracked as she said, "Brianna, did you know you were about to die?" I wanted to collapse. She's crazy. She doesn't know what she's talking about. None of this made any sense! All I knew was that I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom and I wanted to lock my door and crawl under my bed and never come out again. Dillon, my best friend and Forrest's cousin saved my life that day. He overheard Forrest bragging about having a gun in his backpack and that he had a hit list. Later that day, someone got a hold of Forrest's hit list and it started floating around the school. When it was lunch time an upper classmate handed me the list and told me that I needed to look at it. My hands shook as I opened it and the first name on the list was mine followed by three other names. I felt sick. I walked straight to the office and told them I wanted to go home. After processing it, talking about it with my mom and my dad vowing that I was safe - I felt a little better. Well, at least until the next morning. The little sense of peace I had diminished the second I got to school and saw that Forrest was there. How could he be here when he just tried to murder innocent people just 24 hours earlier? I was angry, sad, scared and a whole mess of other emotions I didn't even know how to put it into words. That day and for months after that I had to hear him say how he almost killed me and not to think he wouldn't try it again. I had to deal with the constant reminder of how I almost lost my life and listen to this guy threaten to do it again and swore this time he wouldn't get caught. When my parents were finally able to pull me out of public school I thought that I would feel better. I thought that it would all go away and I could relax and not feel so anxious all the time. Weeks, months and years after the incident, I couldn't understand why my anxiety would spike or why I always had to point out that someone had a gun on their hip inside Taco Bell or Walmart. I felt crazy for always looking at people's sides to see if they were carrying a weapon. I felt crazy every time I have to sprint in the opposite direction of someone just because I see that they have a gun holstered on their hip. I have PTSD and you can't see it, you can't feel it, but I do. I feel it every time I catch sight of someone's gun and get a lump in my throat. I feel it every time I have to frantically tell my mother or father or whomever is with me that there is someone with a gun in the store. You can't tell me just to get over it. You can't tell me to just let it go. I have PTSD and it's not a crutch or something I can just wish away. It's a condition that is a normal response to a life changing event that changes a person's life forever.
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AuthorI'm a nursing student who is trying to break free from typical stereotypes due to illness. ArchivesCategories |