We were almost home, walking down the alley that led to the house, when someone grabbed my hair, and yanked me backward. Josh turned to find me struggling, and rushed forward to help, but I placed Tia in his hands. Then, I elbowed my attacker's stomach, and tried to make a break for it, back onto the street, so the others could get home safely. Josh had his own key to my house. So I left him with my siblings. I trusted him. And I knew he wouldn't do anything to betray me. "TED!!!!" Josh yelled, but I ignored him. I drew my knife-but didn't open it, as I could stab myself if I did while running-and pretended to be cornered in another alley. The thing is, I knew of a family friend here. So, while I put on my mask of panic, I opened my knife and looked around frantically, as if I were looking for an escape from a murderer. And maybe I was. Whatever the case, I looked into the Bakery on the left, and was glad to meet the eyes of him as I gave a little jerk of my head. Telling him to come outside. The attacker approached. "S-stay back! I-I'm warning you!" I yelled, raising the knife. The man rushed out the bakery, cracked his knuckles, and scowled. "Hey! You got a problem?" This man was at least 6 feet tall, with a tan, and his arms were covered in colorful sleeves that matched the ones on his neck. He was bald, and his dark, black eyes seemed to turn orange and fill with flames from his anger. He knew I was acting, for the attacker's sake, but I knew he was pissed. He might work at a bakery, wear an apron, and be one of the sweetest people you ever met, but he's also the type who, when really angry, will show it. The attacker slowly reached under his shirt, to his left hip, and said, "No, I was just showing this delusional boy back home. He knows me, don't you, Alex?" I bit my tongue. Damn it, he knew my name, how did he know my name? "No, I-I don't. What was you're name again?" The guy smirked. "Round these parts, I go by Snatcher." Then, he pulled out his weapon-a sleek, black pistol. The baker tried to push me into the building, but the attacker-I'm NOT calling him Snatcher, it's so stupid-gripped my arm, and twisted it behind my back, making me drop my knife. He then cooked the gun, and put it to my head, then I realized. I shouldn't be acting. I shouldn't have called on Richie for help. I shouldn't have even tried to distract him from the other three. It was so clear now. The attacker always got his way. And, right now, he had me in his clutches, threatening to shoot me if my friend made one step toward us. It was all real now.