2 The End Of The End Is The Beginning

The brown-eyed man stares intensely at Clay. "What's your name Kid?"

He doesn't see a reason to lie to the man. "Clay." The man smiles slightly and it adds a disturbing contrast to the madness in his eyes.

"Is the kid behind you your younger brother?" The man smiles as he tenses and draws himself up a little larger to block them better, his hand tightening slightly on the coffee cup.

"Yes." The man smiles wider as his eyes lighten up.

"You're a good kid Clay, you know what's important, protect your family at all costs, remember that." He nods easily, that is what he knows, that's been his burden all of his life. Clay brushes a dangling lock of red hair out of his eyes.

"That's why you're doing this right? For family?" The man nods fervently and the woman sobs a little harder in his grip as he shushes her and presses the knife closer to her throat.

"Exactly!" He swallows heavily and more sweat gathers on his face. "My little sister is sick, really sick, and no one would give me the money to save her, this is the only way!' Before Clay could say anything else a glass bottle of perfume flies from behind his head and smashes into the man, cutting his forehead and splashing perfume in his eyes. The man swears as the woman breaks ut of his weakened grasp and scrambles out of grabbing range. He focuses behind Clay, presumably to either his brother or the woman that threw it, and lunges forward, blindly slashing with his knife as the teen splashes the coffee into his eyes, further impairing his sight.

After that, all Clay knows is pain sharp bright and potent as he stares up. He can't even breathe and he doesn't remember how he got on the floor, he watches numbly as the man is wrestled to the floor and faces crowd over him, shouting incomprehensibly, especially Nathan, tears stream down his face and splash onto Clay's cheeks and it is now that he registers the fact that he is dying, no ifs and's or buts about it. He wishes with all his heart that he could cry, or scream, or do something. All he could do is all he knew how to do, be calm. He raises a hand as he can feel every bit of himself being drained out of his neck and spots dance in his eyes as they dim and blackness starts to overwhelm. He has no idea how he gurgles his last few words.

"Live…. W-W-Wellll. Lo-ove-e, y-y-yo-yo-ou-u." A hopeless feeling of bitterness swallows him as his consciousness fades, and all he can think is.

-I want to be free….- And then he knows no more. Nothing and nothing, and nothing. Crushing pain rushes the boy and it confuses him as he large and rough hands lift him up. And as he loses awareness again he can almost make out a voice.

-This is your chance….-