Dad charged through the crowd, did something that the guy let go but he fell on me. Dad kicked him off me, scooped me up and charged back through the crowd into the airport. I had a lot of blood on me, but only a few grazes on my legs, no injuries bad enough to explain the amount of blood.
It wasn't till I was in my teens that mum explained that dad had grabbed the guy's left shoulder with one hand, his right arm (the arm he was holding me with) with his other hand and held the guys arm still while spinning him to the left. Dad broke the guy's arm (bone through the skin break) and had kicked him in the face, so the blood on me was from where dad had injured him.
9/26 My house was burgled when I was 10 and the thief broke in through my room and ransacked the house. I remember standing in my room and thinking a stranger has been through my things. My privacy felt completely invaded. My home, and my room wasn't safe anymore. Nowhere was safe. I didn't sleep very well for a while after that.
10/26 I live in Australia, home of infamous serial killer Ivan Milat. One of his murder victims was a customer of my father, so I regularly saw her every now and then. One day I see the reports on TV and see her listed as murdered, that really hit me; literally no one is safe.
11/26 On my 10th birthday party a woman off her bipolar meds ran her car into a concrete underpass right in front of my house, the car instantly was on fire. Having my birthday party go from all happiness to the smell of a burning body and panic within 30 seconds, still bothers me 15 years later.
12/26 I was about 15 working my first job at McDonalds. I was taking an order from a guy when suddenly he was shoved into my register from behind. He turns around to see another guy and out of nowhere they start brawling in front of the counter. The guy who started the fight is having the crap beaten out of him and eventually retreats and leaves the store, and the other guy simply returns to my register and keeps ordering. He said he had no idea who that guy was or why he wanted to fight.
13/26 My first memory that I can recall. Until I was 6 we lived in Uvalde, TX (really close to the border of Mexico). When I was 3 or 4, I remember waking up and a man was trying to kidnap me. My mom walked through the door with a pistol in one hand and a mag light in the other. After extensive application of mag light (couldn't shoot, I was in the way) he was carted away by an ambulance and a border patrol escort.
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