Most people only die once. If you're lucky, you'll make through your life without anybody trying to take it away. But, not everybody is so fortunate. Every year, people across the world are brought within an inch of their lives by another human being. What happens to those unlucky people? Who hurts them, why, and what does it feel like to be left for dead?Some brave souls at Reddit have shared their horrifying real life stories of surviving an attempted murder. The stories will definitely upset you... almost as much as the lack the number of people who got away with it.
I go to the store before heading home, and grab some beer. Halfway through my first beer there is a knock at the door - a friend of my roommate. We talked for a bit and he left. Almost done with my beer, and another knock. It was him again. He just asked if he could use the restroom. Thinking nothing of it, I say sure, and in flood three more people as soon as the door is opened the rest of the way. One of them was the boyfriend of the girl on the bus.
The first thing said is 'Why where you messing with my girl, dawg?' Two of them opened butterfly knives and I tried to talk them down. I sat there, calmly, on the couch. They were quite unwilling to listen and I think sitting there calm and just trying to talk pissed off at least one of them. The boyfriend was in my face waving his knife but he did not make the first strike. His friend jumps out from behind me and stabs me in the neck (it felt like it went in one side and out the other). I stood up, grabbed my throat, and said 'Fuck. I am going to die.' I ran to my bedroom to get away through the patio door in there. I close one door behind me, and I am going for the sliding glass door when there is a crash and a slam against the back of my head. They had kicked my bedroom door off it's hinges and it hit me on its way down.
The next thing I remember, I am in my living room again... but it might have been me stumbling into the hallway again where I see two flashes. There was an ambient light coming from outside - but for a moment there were just those three flashes.
I am suddenly on the floor looking up at the front door, one figure is standing there, and I tell him "Just leave, I'm already dead," my voice raspy and gurgling. He then asks where my phone is. I say I think it's is my bag. After he grabbed it, and was out the door, I hear a car squeal out of the parking lot leaving me for dead.
I picked myself up off of my floor and stumbled out the door and started knocking at my neighbor's window and door for help. I have no idea how long it took the EMTs to get there, but they start showing up asking me questions. The usual sort I guess, who and why and I was scared to talk (because I thought every time I did even more blood poured out than if I were silent). The paramedics arrive to take me away and I tried to persuade them not to cut off my clothes because I was not wearing underwear (my thought now is delirium). I was trying to maintain some modesty I guess. They were asking me questions as they got me ready on the stretcher, and through the ride to the nearest trauma ward a city over. We get there, and as they wheel me in to the ER I get another scare as one doctor says 'He's probably a junky that got messed up in a drug deal gone wrong,' and just before I go out, I can feel an intense pressure around my neck.
That is the story of that evening, two blackouts, stabbed seven times, as I was told, and shot four times. I have a bullet in my head, one in my chest, one that shattered in my hand and one was removed as it was caught in my esophagus. I was out of the hospital in eleven days."
We were hanging out in the room, and there was a loud knock on the door. Everyone was freaking out. I was the most sober (and not doing any drugs) so I went to check the door. It was another guy who lived on our hall. I asked what was going on, and he and a couple people came in the room and began accusing people of stealing his weed.
At this point, everyone in the room is freaking out... because, mushrooms. So I got the people who had just showed up to go out into the hall and talk to me about what was going on. A couple of them left, and just the original guy stayed and talked to me. He was very angry about approximately $30 worth of weed missing from his room. He got in my face and I pushed him against the wall and told him this was done.
At this point, he pushed my arm off of him and made a quick movement. I thought he had tried to punch me in the face so I lunged forward and tried to do the same, but ended up falling to the ground. I fell on my back and noticed blood squirting everywhere. He had stabbed me across my throat and through my cheek. At this point he was standing over top of me with an approximately 12-inch hunting knife that he had hidden under his sweatshirt.
I wasn't able to move much or talk, and was just clutching my throat. He ended up running off, and I was able to slide over and kick the door of one of the nearby dorm rooms. Someone came out and screamed and was able to get others to come out and help. By this point, there was lots of blood that had sprayed a few feet up the wall in all directions and a large pool on the floor. A number of people came out and put t-shirts around my neck and called 9-1-1.
I was in and out laying on the floor of the hall, but do remember people saying that 9-1-1 thought it was a prank phone call and they wouldn't send an ambulance until they spoke with an RA from the dorm. Next thing I know, the RA from our hall (who supplied everyone with alcohol as a side business) stumbled out of his room drunk and told us to quiet down and go back to sleep, oblivious to what was going on.
Eventually, people got a hold of another RA, and 9-1-1 said an ambulance was on the way. Judging by the looks of everyone around me, I 100% thought that that was it for me, and I tried to tell some of the people gathered around what I wanted them to tell my dad, my mom, both of my brothers and my sister. I began to make peace with what was happening.
The ambulance got there and I was laying in the back and remember having a similar conversation with one of the EMTs. The first thing they said to each other was to get the defibrillator ready because I was losing it. One then said to me to stay awake and that they knew I didn't want to have to have my parents and family bury me. Something kicked in right then that I will never forget, and I made damn sure to keep my eyes open, and went from making peace with it to making sure that didn't happen.
I got a blood transfusion at the hospital and was sedated, from what I can remember. I woke up around five that morning with 44 stitches across my throat and 10 across my cheek. My family was all there, along with some friends from college who met my parents over there after they made the two hour drive at five AM after receiving the phone call from the police/hospital in the middle of the night.
The doctors told me that I had lost over one third of my blood, and that by all typical measures, I should have not made it through.They had never seen someone lose that much blood and live. That the knife came within one millimeter of hitting my carotid artery, meaning I would've bled out instantly. I do not know why or how that happened that way, but I feel pretty lucky because of it and it has changed my outlook on life.
This happened the week before exams, and instead of going home and pulling out like a lot of people wanted me to, I went to my exams looking like Frankenstein and passed all of them. I spent the next four years of my college career getting subpoenas every other month for the trial and dealing with a very long, complicated process for what was one of the most violent things that had happened in that area for a long time. Long story short, after four years of back and forth and appeals and an ongoing trial, we let the guy plead guilty to a lesser assault with a deadly weapon charge to be over and done with it. By that point, it was something I dealt with daily and still had PTSD issues and trouble coping with everything that had happened. He went to jail for a couple years, and got a long period of probation, but what happened after that, I don't know. I was just glad to wash my hands of it and put the whole thing behind me."
"To start, I should explain that at the time this happened, I was working as a bouncer, and was used to reacting to physical confrontations. I’m 6’5” and weigh about 225 pounds. I suffer from bipolar disorder, and have been on medications for it most of my life. One afternoon, I was sitting in my counselor’s office getting a prescription refilled. I was sitting directly in front of her desk in a chair that had no arms. Shortly after our meeting started, a woman opened the door and came in. She was in her early-to-mid 40s, about 5’9” and probably weighed about 170 pounds. This was unusual, because those meetings are very private. The door closed behind her, and she pulled out a six inch fixed blade buck knife. If you’ve seen the movie Scream, you know what knife I’m talking about. The weirdest thing flashed through my head at this point. I thought to myself, 'Why is she showing this knife to my counselor?' Then she pointed it directly at my counselor and said, 'I’m gonna kill you bitch!' I took a step towards her in awe. When I did, she pointed the knife at me. I took a step back and grabbed a hold of the first thing I could find to defend myself, the chair I was sitting in. Then she turned around and went to lock us in the room with her.
As soon as her hand was on the lock, I lunged across my counselor’s desk and tackled her from behind. She had the knife pointed up in her right hand, which I had a firm grip on. I slammed her into the wall, and then into a bookcase on the opposite wall. As soon as I grabbed her, my counselor bolted out of the room. Somehow, the woman I was struggling with moved the knife from her right hand, pointing up, to her left hand, pointing down. We continued to struggle and then I felt her force her left arm in a downward motion. As soon as I felt the force, I reacted, pulling her arm back up. She stabbed me about four inches into my left thigh. I knew she stabbed me, but I had so much adrenaline running through me that I didn’t feel a thing. Then I tackled her onto the chair I was sitting in. There I was, hunched over this chair, pinning down this woman who was threatening my life. The knife wasn’t more than six inches away from my face. The only thing I could think to do was to start head butting her in the back of her head. After slamming my forehead into the back of hers four or five times, she started yelling for me to stop. I told her, 'Drop that fucking knife, and I’ll stop!' She dropped the knife, and I rolled her over so she was resting on top of my body, and I scooted up against the wall. I had my arms wrapped around her body as tight as I could hold her, and I just stayed propped up against the wall.
After another minute or two, another counselor came in and started talking to us. She was trying to calm the situation down, but I was already oddly calm about everything. I told her I would not let go until the police showed up. A few minutes later the counselor just pulled out of the room. Then I saw a gun come around one corner, then another. The cops came in and asked where the knife was. I told them it was on the ground about five feet in front of us. They told me to let the woman go and had her crawl over to them. They yanked her out of the room and then told me to lie on my stomach, and put my hands behind my back. I complied, and then told them that I was the victim, pointing out the blood coming out of my left thigh.They instantly let me go, and went and arrested her. After everything calmed down and the paramedics showed up, the police told me they had received a report of a man with a knife, and apologized profusely. She ended up getting charged with two counts of attempted deliberate homicide, but pled down to two counts of assault with a deadly weapon. She got 20 years, 10 for me and 10 for my counselor. I had nightmares for a week or two, but that eventually went away. To this day, I still see the same counselor. She has the only office in the building that locks from the inside, and I make her lock it every time I visit."