“After several unanswered phone calls and texts, I rushed to the hospital. The surgeons called me into a tiny room with a white board. The news didn’t hit me until I had to relay it to my parents. All we could do was sob.”
‘His last text said, ‘Bank robber.’ My heart raced and I ran upstairs. I received a message from a stranger offering condolences to my fiancé. I had no idea what was going on.’
‘Am I ever going to walk again? Will I survive this?’ I couldn’t see it coming or avoid it. I never saw the man who did it. I just felt the shattering vibration in my leg and collapsed.’
“There was no fight, no scuffle. Just bone-crushing shock. For years, I imagined him as every man I saw – walking down the street, opening my office door, pushing through a crowd. Every victim I heard about on the news was me – helpless and broken – life as they knew it taken from them in one moment.”
