When the Bubble Has Burst

Prologue

There's something very sobering about leaving a very upscale office in sharp work attire, stopping at Whole Foods on the way home and being smacked in the face with reality when you're held at gunpoint on the train ride home.

On one end you have the safety of high society and on the other -my reality- you have the underbelly of society.

My whole life, I've teetered between those two worlds but now, the world I came from but hated to claim is the world I'm about to die in.

And of course as any young person facing mortality would, all I could think as I felt the cold end of the barrel on my temple is Am I really about to die at 24? There are so many things I haven't done yet!

—

I had just wrapped up another long day at work. There were a lot of things that the building offered that made the stresses of work seem worth it, like beautiful view of the Hollywood sign, Capital Records building, and the rest of Hollywood. The golden California sun was beginning its descent as I left work, casting long shadows across the bustling streets. I was not usually one to work overtime but the company was short three customer experience agents and I was the only one available to assist our customers during one of our biggest sales of the year so I obliged even though I would have preferred to spend my evening at home painting. I was bombarded with coupon issues and bad news all day by the end, I was determined to bring some brightness to my day.

With a deep breath, I walked down the familiar streets toward Trader Joe's. It was my mom's birthday, and I had on my heart to give her a bouquet of flowers. The vibrant blooms seemed like the perfect gift to brighten her day. As I left the store, cradling the bouquet carefully, I began my daily task of taking the train home.

Once I walked down the long staircase that led to the train platform, I noticed the train was arriving just as I finished descending the long staircase. I stepped onto the train, scanning the car for an empty seat. It was crowded, so I found a small spot to stand near the doors. That's when I noticed him—a man with wild, darting eyes and disheveled clothes, his gaze fixed on me. A shiver ran down my spine, but I tried to dismiss my unease, thinking it was just my imagination.

Standing in my spot near the train doors, I clutched the cold metal pole for support, trying to focus on the colorful flowers in my hand. But then, he moved closer, standing next to me, his breath quickening. Panic began to well up inside me as he suddenly put me in a tight headlock, and I felt the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed against my temple.

He screamed, his voice filled with desperation, at an imaginary person who only he could see or hear. "Leave me alone! I've had enough!" he cried, his grip on me tightening. I went limp, my mother's flowers falling out of my hands. Instinct drove me to hold my hands up as if to plead with the man that I don't deserve this, I'm innocent.

Tears welled up in my eyes as fear coursed through my veins. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape.

Just as I thought it was over for me, a hero emerged from the crowd. A brave soul charged at the unstable man, tackling him with a force that sent him stumbling backward. The gun clattered to the floor, and I was released from his grip.

The man fell to the ground, curling into a ball, muttering incoherently, "I'm sorry, mommy." The train doors opened, and chaos ensued as passengers rushed to safety out of the train and onto the train station platform.

The stranger who had come to my rescue flagged down security at the train stop. Moments later, uniformed guards arrived, their authoritative presence calming the frantic passengers. They took control of the situation, escorting the troubled man off the train.

I stood there, still trembling, stunned by the whirlwind of events. Passengers surrounded me, their concern palpable as they checked to see if I was okay. I couldn't find my voice but i did find my mother's flowers, clinging into them as if they were her. I was too shaken, too overwhelmed by the surreal experience that had just unfolded before me to say anything to anyone. For the first time in my adult life, I wanted to cry to my mother.

As the train continued on its journey, I clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly, a symbol of the fragility of life and the unpredictable twists it can take.