I woke up hearing my 17-year-old daughter’s ring tone, which is Stuey from the Family Guy show saying, “Mom, mom, momma, mom …” I missed the first call, and as I tried to call back, she again called. I answered and immediately heard what was my worst nightmare: the sounds of my daughter crying, “Mom, I’ve been shot!”
I responded, “What, where are you?”
“I’m in someone’s yard. I ran away, I’m bleeding and I’m scared.”
I immediately jumped out the bed with tears in my eyes. “You need to find help, where are your friends?”
At that moment, I heard her friends show up. I could hear her friends in the background, crying. “Please call the police, where are y’all?” I yell into the phone.
“Apply pressure,” I hear one of her friends say. I could hear my daughter getting in the car.
“Tell me what hospital you’re taking her to,” I said as I threw on a coat and headed downstairs, navigating the phone and my emotions as I rushed out the door, praying she would be OK …