Fingerprints

*Harry Styles* "Hanna!" I screamed, trying to open the door to the black Range Rover. I ran over to the passenger side door that was just being closed, and I ripped it out of the man's grip. "Let her GO," I demanded, even louder now. The guy had tattoos up and down his arms, and a tear drop tattoo on his cheek. What the hell, I thought. A tattoo like that means you've murdered people. Murdered. "Jordan!" I had heard her cry in utter terror. The driver reached back and punched her right in the temple. Before I lost my grip on the door, the last thing I saw of Johanna was her face, filled with fear, mascara down her cheeks, and red, inflamed bruises. The man I was trying to take the door from elbowed me in the mouth, hard, and slammed the door. Moments later, I was sprawled out on the pavement, stunned and confused, until a lady noticed me. "Call an ambulance!" She yelled to another bystander. No. I thought. "No, no ambulance." I got up, and looked around for the car, which was no where in sight, and I had no idea where it went. The lady insisted I stay and get checked out as she pointed to the blood all over my sweater. I looked down, the ground felt shaky under my feet, but I had to get help. I ignored her, and started running, as fast as I could to Harry's house, five blocks away. I started sobbing as I ran. They could have already killed her.