William Kellibrew IV begged for his life when at the age of 10, his mother's ex-boyfriend squatted next to him and put a gun to his head.
"Please don't kill me," he pleaded. "I'll do anything."
The man, who had just shot dead Kellibrew's mother and 12-year-old brother in front of him in his family home, said "You can leave," and told him to call the police.
All Kellibrew could say when he banged on the door of a neighbor's house was "my mother, my mother," before he collapsed.
"I lost everything," he recalled. "I lost my mom. I was a momma's boy. That day, I wanted to go with her."
Today, Kellibrew is a nationally-recognized advocate for survivors of trauma. He regularly travels to public speaking events around the country and world, relaying his experience and using it to help audience members better understand victims of violent events.
Kellibrew spoke of his experience to hundreds of medical professionals, substance abuse prevention specialists, educators and others during lunch Tuesday at the Integrated Behavioral Health Conference, hosted by the West Virginia Department of Health and Human Resources and held at the Charleston Civic Center this week.
He said he was unable to speak during the police interview after the shootings.
"I had to draw the scene for law enforcement on what actually happened in that room," he said. "I lost my voice. I lost my choice."
Addressing a roomful of people, many of whom work with survivors of trauma, Kellibrew described how three people became his advocates as he found his voice again.
His grandmother, who took care of him after his mother's death, was one. As a teenager, he didn't quite realize how hard-working and dedicated to him she was.
"To me she was an ordinary person," he said. "Little did I know she would be the extraordinary person in my life."
Another was Charles Christian, an assistant principal who always let Kellibrew sit in his office when he needed some time.
Kellibrew said Christian told him, "You want to come in the office, you can sit. You can sit here and get yourself together. You don't need a pass. Let your teachers know this is your spot."
At 13, his grandma handed him $5 as he left for school, as she always did. She didn't know it was the day he planned to end his life.
"I said I've had enough," he said. "I can't continue to breathe on earth because every single breath was anxious."
He stood on a bridge, preparing to jump, and debated whether he would go to heaven or hell, and whether he would ever see his mother again.
"It was so confusing to me that I guess the best strategy or solution was just to come back at 3 p.m.," he said. "Maybe I'll have a decision about this."
Christian noticed the distress on Kellibrew's face once he got to school. Christian told Kellibrew's grandmother, and they arranged for Kellibrew to have a psychiatric evaluation.
The children's program was cut off at 12 years old, so Kellibrew was sent to an adult inpatient psychiatric program for 30 days. He was the youngest person in the program.
After that, he was referred to an outpatient program, where he met a therapist named Christine Pierre.
Kellibrew remembers starting the session in an office, then moving to the cafeteria, where Pierre asked him "what do you want for lunch?"
He said he thought to himself, "I am going to clean you out," and headed for an ice cream machine to build the biggest ice cream cone he could.
"I don't remember much about what we talked about, but I remember her listening to me," he said.
After five months of therapy, he never saw her again. He also never saw his principal after he left school.
As an adult, Kellibrew decided he wanted to find the people who saved his life.
After tracking them both down online, Christian told Kellibrew he had been keeping up on his success. Pierre didn't remember his name, but she had a vague memory of the time and his face.
She told them she couldn't tell him at the time, because he was her patient, but her mother had died while he was a patient.
Kellibrew said she told him, "When you walked into my office and you shared those stories, those experiences ... little did you know that I was with you."
One of the tenets of trauma-informed care, which Pierre demonstrated when she asked Kellibrew "what do you want for lunch?" involves helping patients feel empowered.
Trauma-informed care also involves creating a safe environment and building trust, like Christian did by providing a safe space, and other principles that ask healthcare providers, educators and other professionals to be sensitive to the effect of traumatic experiences in their approach.
In that phone conversation with Pierre, Kellibrew also found out that while he may have referred to her as his "life-saving therapist," she was actually a first-year social work intern.
She told him that she was the youngest one on the team, and wasn't even an employee.
"I said, well Miss Pierre, you did the job," he said.
Reach Erin Beck at erin.beck@wvgazette.com, 304-348-5163, Facebook.com/erinbeckwv or follow @erinbeckwv on Twitter.