I see the attacker before anybody else does. I see him even before Johnny sees him. But I'm still not fast enough – if only I could run as fast as I can skate. The terrified screams of fans, the insane laughter of the attacker, the shuffle of feet – all becomes silent and slow as I watch him look down at the knife sticking out of his stomach, his smile morphing into shock, then horror. He falls and I'm finally there, in time to catch him in my arms before he hits the ground, but too late, too late, too late.
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