What are you doing? I think. Charlie Sanders runs across the street. I stare I can’t do anything. I shouldn’t care what he does. Then it happens. I most definitely care about what he’s just done.
“CHARLIE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?” I scream.
He lays in the middle of the street. No cars are around. Just him on the ground in his own pool of blood with a black gun in his hand.