I was set up for a robbery—was supposed to meet someone from an app. Once I arrived, I looked down at my phone to let them know that I was there. When I looked up, all I saw was a gun barrel. The man was wearing a mask, but the look in his eye said he was going to kill me. My head darted forward to drive off, and that’s when the first shot hit, passing through my right bicep, severing the artery. By then, I had started to floor it.
A second shot rang, hitting my trapezium, the lower knuckle of my thumb. I kept driving, trying to keep a cool head, recognizing my squirting arm and knowing I didn’t have much time. I looked for a house with a lot of cars in the front yard; I pulled into a family’s yard to ask for help. I was close to passing out, and a man ran up to tie a tourniquet on my arm. He called EMS, and I sat and waited for 15 minutes before help arrived. The pain was agonizing, no longer from the bullet wounds but the tourniquet. I survived and am currently recovering.