When I was 17, I was carefree. I thought I was invincible. I was out enjoying a ride on my boyfriend’s motorcycle on a beautiful warm night. We stopped at a gas station so I could use the bathroom. Before I could get off the bike, I heard commotion to our left. The first thing I saw when I turned to look was a gun pointed right at my boyfriend’s head. A young man was yelling at us to give him the bike. He then turned the gun towards me and said that he would either take the blonde or the bike. Reluctantly, I did what my boyfriend told me to do: I got off the bike and went inside. I locked the door, and seconds later, I heard loud shouting and a bang. Then I heard the bike drive away.
I was terrified to open the door. When I did, I saw the bike, my boyfriend and the gun gone. Blood on the ground. I ran into the cashier to find my boyfriend holding a rag to blood on his head. He was hit in the head with the butt, and the bike was gone. We survived.