Clary's skull was ringing, her vision blurry. She was trying to crawl away. Suddenly, her feet were being lifted off the ground. She was frantically trying to grab hold of anything while being dragged the opposite way. "Let go of me!" she screamed.
"Come here, you dirty little-"
"NO!"
"Stop fighting me!"
"Never!"
"Fine. I'll come back for you later." Out of the corner of her eye she saw him leave. Whimpering, she slowly dragged herself to the farthest corner of the dark drabby room. She leaned against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Maybe if I shrink enough, I'll just disappear, thought Clary. She was exhausted. All of that fear for your life stuff really takes it out of you. Clary smiled to herself. At least my sense of humor isn't broken. At that Clary laid down on the cold concrete and closed her eyes, falling asleep. She woke up a little later to one of his friends placing a plate of eggs in front of her. Breakfast. Clary's stomach churned. They smelled horrid, but it was better than nothing. She sat up and devoured the eggs.
A while had passed and nothing. Generally, either his friends or he himself came in to check on her, make sure she was still alive. She wondered what was going on. She stood up to try the door. It was unlocked which was incredibly unusual. The living room was scattered with beer cans and fast food wrappers. She peeked hesitantly around the corners in the apartment, like a frightened animal, looking for any sign of him or his friends. They must've left and forgotten to lock the door, she thought, this is my chance. She was about to grab a knife, when she realized that a guy like him must have a gun around somewhere. Plus, with a knife, even if she could get close enough to attack, he was much stronger than her. She was rummaging around in the couch when she saw it, a gun. That's when she heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. She quickly scampered into her "room" and closed the door as quietly as she could. She ran into her corner and listened closely. No voices. He must be alone, she thought. She heard him rummage around in the kitchen, and then her door knob rattled. He opened the door and she saw that he was holding a knife. Her eyes widened as he moved towards her. She slowly got up, making sure she was hiding the gun behind her back so he couldn't see it. Then, as he came closer, she drew the gun, her hands shaking. A look of surprise came across his face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared, and turned into a sneer.
"You're not getting away that easy," he barked. He advanced on her, quicker than she had anticipated. He grabbed her arms trying to wrench the gun out of her hands. She fought as hard as she could, and managed to get the gun pointed towards him again. Bang. She pulled the trigger, but not quick enough. He staggered back as her hand went to her side. She pulled it back as it glistened red. Everything felt as if it were happening in slow motion. She looked up at him, and the knife in his hand. The wound in his ribs was bleeding profusely, coloring his shirt almost black. Despite the deep gash at her side, she had to take this opportunity to escape. She dashed out the front door keeping her hand pressed on the source of blood. She careened down the street, and turned the corner, and then another, and then another. She tried to get as far away as possible. Even though she shot him, he was strong, strong enough to come after her.
She ran a little further when she saw it. It was a huge cathedral. She felt as if that was where she was supposed to get help. She moved towards the huge doors, staggering more vividly than before. She pushed open the gates and wobbled up the pathway. She started to ascend the stairs, when she lost her footing. She reached a bloody hand out and touched the doors. They opened slowly. "Help," she whispered as she collapsed into a pool of her own blood.