My hands are shaking as I type this. I am a survivor. We are survivors
It was just after 3 a.m., and we were having a great time filming in the living room, filled with laughter and lighthearted conversations to keep our spirits high for the scenes ahead. Suddenly, our joy was interrupted by a loud bang on the door. A heavy silence fell over us, and we all froze, hearts pounding. Then, the banging started again, louder and more urgent.
“Who is that?” our director shouted, a hint of fear in his voice. Panic set in as we realized what was happening: we were being robbed.
In an instant, chaos broke out. Everyone scrambled to find a safe place. Some of the guys quickly pushed a couch against the door, trying to create a barrier, while others ran into nearby rooms. I rushed into a room with Mama @francesnsonwu07 and a few other colleagues. We clung to each other, quietly praying and hoping for safety.
Outside, we could hear the robbers breaking in. They were shouting and banging on the door of the room next to us, and my heart raced with fear. I felt a cold sweat on my skin as I listened to them breaking through.
Then, with a loud crash, they forced their way into the other room. My body shook as I prayed harder than ever. Despite the chaos around us, a small part of me felt a strange sense of peace. I believed that we would be okay; they might take our things, but they wouldn’t hurt us.
The fear was overwhelming, but I realized we were all in this together. United in our fear, we were strong. We were survivors, and no matter what happened next, we would face it as one.
