On March 1, 2017, I was just waking up, and I had just made my mother breakfast. I went up to my room, was playing the game, talking to my friends. I heard my dog barking, so I knew someone was at the door. I went to answer the door, to ask who it was. When I cracked the door to peep out, I was shot in my mouth twice by .40-caliber and .45-caliber bullets. There were two gunmen.
All I could do was slam the door shut and fall on the floor. I lost my dad to gun violence when I was 8. I felt someone pick me up and say, “You are all right. Get up.” It was my dad’s voice. I got up and rushed to my mom. She met me at the step of the basement. My upper lip was split, my jawbone was broken and I couldn’t feel my right arm.