Gunshots. One fired after another. Each of them getting louder and closer by the minute.

I stood paralyzed as the piercing screams of gunfire filled the midnight air. I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest almost to the point where it became near- impossible to breathe. Fear invaded my body and panic ran through my veins until my blood ran cold. My mind began to race with thoughts of death as the gunfire grew in intensity. I could not help but wonder where these shots were coming from, but more importantly, whom they were intended for. It was only after what seemed to be an eternity that they dissipated, leaving behind a symphony of sirens that penetrated the city with its eerie melodies.

It wasn't long before a horde of police and rescue vehicles saturated the streets of the crime-ridden neighborhood, which was about to become my new home. As it would turn out, the gunfire that had made time stand still was nothing more than part of an average night in the new city that my family and I had just moved to. That terrifying night had been my first experience in Charlotte, North Carolina, and was one I would not soon forget. To this day, I cannot think about that night without chills running up and down my spine and the occasional flashback that places me back into the line of fire.

We had just moved to Charlotte from our home in London, England, and had decided to do so on the account that my father's mother was already living there and had requested that we be nearer to her. Back in England, my family and I were considered to be a part of the upper middle class and had been living a comfortable lifestyle.

We had lived in a rather large two-story home, with a huge back yard, complete with swimming pool and just about every toy imaginable. We wore quality name-brand clothes and even drove a stylish car, but this was to be a far cry from the lifestyle we would grow accustomed to in Charlotte.

In England, I had grown accustomed to a particular way of life, one which I had become very familiar and comfortable with. It was a predictable lifestyle, but one that never jeopardized my sense of safety. Charlotte was the antithesis of this. It was a place that had managed to instill feelings of insecurity and fear in me that would become a part of my daily life. I had forever lost that sense of peace and tranquility that I had once taken for granted.

Everything dramatically changed once we moved to the United States. Nothing seemed familiar and I had a difficult time relating to anyone and anything around me. It was as if I had entered a foreign land, one which I knew absolutely nothing about. The dress, the people and even the language, in some respects, were entirely new to me. In Mecklenburg County, which is a subdivision of Charlotte, crime seemed to be second nature. No one else around me seemed to pay any attention to it or the fact that it was practically happening in our own backyards.

Since moving from England, I felt as though my innocence had been taken from me and it was something I could never regain. The more time I spent in Charlotte, the more mature and wise I became. In a way I was forced to give up the latter part of my childhood in exchange for street smarts, a way of knowing that would enable me to survive in the poverty and crime-stricken city that had become a home away from home.

Charlotte was a world I had yet seen or experienced. It was the exact opposite of everything that I had ever known or been familiar with. The difference between the two places was comparable to night and day.

In England the neighborhood that I had grown up in was rich and very secluded. Only a particular type and number of people resided there. My house was rather large in size and was decorated in a way that resembled a page out of a Martha Stewart Catalog. I went to an upscale private school where uniforms were a requirement, and I had both ballet and violin lessons on a regular basis.

Both of my parents worked in order to maintain the lifestyle that they had always dreamed of having. Growing up, I had never given much thought to the endless sacrifices that were made on my behalf so that we could live as we did. But then again, what child is capable of perceiving such things?

My life in Charlotte served as a devastating blow to my siblings and I. We had gone from living the high life in an upscale British neighborhood, to the ghettos of a poverty- and crime-infested war zone. Nothing could have prepared me for the culture shock that I endured after moving to Charlotte. We no longer lived in a chic upscale home complete with pool, two-car garage and lavish backyard. We were no longer proud members of the upper middle class. We had become insignificant parts of a divided community.

We had moved into an apartment complex, which seemed to be the size of our old house. Despite our unit being miniscule, our family of six had managed to fit. The air in Charlotte dripped with the stench of despair, almost to the point where you could smell it. It was a foul scent indeed that seemed to bum the nostrils of all who inhaled. This was a city ruled by devastation and misery, a place where hope and promise didn't stand a chance.

In Charlotte, walking outside your front door was to be considered a high-risk activity. At any given moment you could become the unintended target of yet another drive-by shooting. The things that I had most treasured about England were nowhere to be found in this desolate city. Trees and flowers alike seemed scarce. The sun would occasionally appear in the sky, but it did not shine, for it was blocked out by a seemingly endless collection of skyscrapers. The soothing sound of birds chirping had been replaced with the chilling sound of random gunfire.

To venture outside alone, especially in broad daylight, would be to risk your life. Parks and playgrounds alike, which are supposed to echo the cries of joyous and delighted children, were always empty and silent. This contributed to the overwhelming sensation that hope was nowhere in sight.

I was about 10 at the time my parents decided to move to the U.S. and I can remember being devastated by the news. I could not imagine having to pick up everything and leave behind all that I had ever known. To a 10-year-old, change is like a death sentence, or at least it was for me. I have always been a creature of habit and change has always made me extremely uncomfortable. I already had a school to go to and friends to play with, and saw no reason to just leave everything in exchange for the unknown.

As it would turn out, this childlike perspective would teach me a valuable lesson later on. Adjusting to life in an unknown, foreign environment would serve to teach me some of the most important and meaningful lessons of my life. I had grown up in such a structured and sheltered environment, where I thought I had seen everything. To my surprise, the years I spent in Charlotte opened my eyes to a world that was beyond the dreamlike existence I had once occupied.

I saw and heard things that I pray most children never do. However, there is always good to be found in the presence of evil. It was because of the experiences I had while living in Charlotte that I now have a more open mind about not only myself but also the world in which I live. It scares me to think what would have become of me if I had remained in England and the once-sheltered environment that had given me such a skewed perception of the world.

Life in Charlotte proved that there is a whole world out there that is begging to be explored. At the time, I may not have fully been aware of the power and impact that Charlotte and my time spent there would have on the rest of my life, but it is clear to me now. I was given a rare opportunity to step outside of my life and myself so that I could observe the beautiful and intricate world around me. It is because of this that I now see the world through a much bigger window.

I wouldn't trade that for anything.