Before he left, my mom shouted the usual “Call us if you win the million!” and gave copious hugs and kisses. I, however, was uncertain about my dad’s annual trip to Las Vegas. Fearful thoughts of him getting hurt rested in the back of my head; a premonition, maybe.

On Sunday, October 1, the nation went to sleep, blind to the appalling chaos that flooded Route 91 on the Las Vegas Strip. Thousands of bullets shot from a Mandalay Bay suite window pierced the air in just 10 minutes, wounding hundreds of concertgoers at the Harvest Festival.

Charles Celestina, along with his six brothers and sisters, sat downstairs in the Mandalay Bay Casino around 10 p.m., absorbed in their slot machine play. Once home, he recounted his horrible experience. “Around 10:30, security ran into the casino screaming and demanding, ‘Eveeyone get out of the casino, there’s an active shooter!’” Police officers, a SWAT team, and hotel security escorted everyone quickly to the atrium. My dad continued his story, “We heard loud shots and saw muzzled lights from above. Then the police came over to us with rifles and pointed them at our heads until we laid down.” Celestina and his brother, anxious and horrified, hid behind pillars in the Michael Jackson ONE Theater.

Sheriffs pointed their guns to affirm nobody in the theater had an affiliation with the massacre. Celestina headed through the alleyway between the Luxor and Mandalay Bay in search of shelter only to find himself in the heart of the carnage. “I saw people everywhere with gunshot wounds in their legs and trailers for dead bodies.”

In the Luxor, over 300 people were told to move downstairs. Security informed the cold, fatigued, and scarred swarm of people that they were in lockdown and nobody could leave. Celestina admitted, “We spent six hours in the Luxor. Famished guests emptied the cabinets and bars until nothing remained.” He left around 4:30 a.m. with no room key, no shelter, and no communication with his family. “Nobody knew where to go, what to do,” he observed. “People slept against walls, machines, anywhere they felt safe.”

Each year, my uncle, Joe Celestina, rents a corner suite in the Mandalay Bay. Coincidentally, he was given the end suite of the 32nd floor, down the hall from the shooter, Stephen Paddock. Access to his room was restricted after the shooting because the whole hall became a crime scene. On another floor, Celestina’s brother, Andrew Celestina, was asleep when police in helmets stormed through the door, harassing him with questions while searching his possessions.

Now, two weeks after the gruesome events in Las Vegas, Celestina and his siblings are coping with what they witnessed and returning to their lives in Cleveland. Joe, who was recently affected by Hurricane Irma at his home in Tampa, is staying indoors for a while and enjoying the company of his close family.