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I went out with a friend of mine's buddy. With a name like Hatchet, I should have known better. He picked me up on a motorcycle and said he would have to make a stop before the date. He took me into this neighborhood that looked like a war zone. He said, "Don't worry, I have a gun." He stopped at a garage and came running out. I could hear gun shots. We didn't get out of there quick enough and I made a mess in my pants. He stopped at his house; it was an efficiency full of so many guns. I tripped over one and it went off. I wanted out of there in the worst way. The place smelled. He said he had to use the bathroom. I was scared. I told him I have a headache and the smell was making me sick. He said, "Don't worry about that. It always smells like that." I ran out of there and hitchhiked 3 miles home. Not long after that, he ended up in jail. I wonder how that happened? -- Darlene, 23