I was driving my mom's old '72 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and Jeff was with me. Jeff wanted to drive, so I pulled over to the side of the road, left the lights on, and got out of the car. But instead of just walking around the car and getting into the passenger seat, I started walking as if he couldn't have anyone else in his car with him.
Hours later, I was in a very large house watching television. It crossed my mind a couple of times that Jeff still wasn't home and I was concerned about it. But even more, I think I was hiding from someone and sometimes thankful that I didn't have to hide Jeff too.
At one point, my Uncle George walked into the room with his hands in his pants pockets. I said hi, as did he. I was surprised to see him there. It was then that I noticed that my Uncle Joe was already there. I felt kind of bad for not noticing before, so I said hi to him as well.
Then the violence started. There were several men firing weapons. I don't think they were firing AT us; we just happened to be there. The first incident was only a few shots and a bunch of guys running around. The second incident was much more involved - more people, more gunfire, and it lasted much longer.
At first, we just tried ducking and hiding from the bullets. Eventually, I found a great hiding place in a walk-in closet. I turned off the light and hid behind a bunch of low-hanging clothes. Again, I was worried about Jeff because he probably wouldn't be able to find me either. At this point, I hoped that he DIDN'T arrive until after the gunfire had stopped.
JUST SO YOU KNOW:
My mom really did have a '72 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. I recently saw my Uncle Joe at a funeral, but my Uncle George wasn't there. This home didn't look familiar to me at all.
