Re: Hamartia
He felt like he'd been running forever. He hadn't, of course, but his thighs burned and his eye was bruising so quickly that he could barely see from it, and the boys were hot on his heels. Three of them, the burly brawny sort that threw punches first and mocked later. He'd never met people like them, not at the ballet, and when they'd approached him earlier he hadn't known they meant him any harm. He hadn't realized it, really, until he was curled up in the dirt with a boot kicking his stomach.
He'd only managed to get free because the street lights beyond the alley they'd dragged him into had gone dark, and cars had smashed into one another loudly enough that the boys had stopped. He'd climbed to his feet, and he'd run, but they hadn't left well enough alone. He'd heard them talking, saying something about needing to finish the job they'd been paid for or they'd get killed, but it didn't register, not then, not really.
By the time he grabbed for the door handle at Hamartia's main entrance, it was entirely dark, and a hand grabbed at his hoodie and pulled him back, their dirty words hurting as much as their fists and feet.
He yelled. They were going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it.