Charlie

"Hey!" somebody yells. I'm in the back of my shop, fixing a little boy's bike. The boy left with his mom about fifteen minutes ago; they should be back soon.

When I walk to the counter to see who it is, my greasy rag slung over my shoulder, I see Henry.

And he's holding a bloody knife.

"Where is Claire?!" he yells.

I shrug, "I-I-I have no idea. Please don't hurt me."

He slams me to the ground and holds me there, his knife poised over my abdomen.

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

I start screaming for help, so he slaps me. "Shut up. Only talk when I ask you a question." He repeats himself, "Where - is - Claire?"

"I'm telling you, I have no idea!" I shout.

He stabs me like it's nothing. "I'll find her myself."

I scream at the top of my lungs, "HELP! HE-!" Henry grabs my rag and gags me, but not before a somebody else runs in.

It's Frank.

Frank, from Joe's gang.

Henry runs and grabs him by the hair, "You wouldn't happen to know where Claire is?"

"No," Frank gulps. Henry stabs him as well and all I can do is bleed and choke on the grease from my rag.

"I'll kill everyone she knows," he threatens, then walks into the black abyss in my wall.

I can't save Claire. I need to keep him from her, but I can't.

And that's the last thing I think as my vision goes dark.