"You have to get me in the back of the head," she screamed, hoping her voice was piercing enough to work past the sound of constant fire. With every hit, her fingernails scraped against the ground, her nails bloody with blood that trickled down from her injuries, but also from where they tore with the effort, gradually patching up time after time. "I don't have any work, but there's—"

She knew that she shouldn't have been giving away the answer, the only square inch of her body that could leave her destroyed for good, but with the pain, death sounded merciful. Would this woman take the option? Would the woman torture her instead, try to pull out whatever information she was talking about? Perhaps she was from the Company.

"I'm Claire Bennet, I'm from Odessa, Texas, I'm just a cheerleader."