The next part of my story.
Charlie didn't know what to do. He was frozen with fear as a wave of panic washed over him. Should he stay where he was? Should he go and see where the noise is coming from? Or should he just leap out the nearest window and keep running? He was on the ground floor, so he wouldn't hurt himself. He managed to get to his feet, and he started walking unsteadily toward the door. The scratching was getting more intense. Then he started to hear another sound. Moaning. Like someone was in pain. "Okay," he thought, "this is weird." And with trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob. It squeaked as he turned it, but he kept turning it until he heard the latch pop. The old door creaked loudly as he swung it open.
He looked left, then right. Nothing. He almost had a heart attack when something grabbed his leg. He looked down to see a man, about mid thirties, who looked like he'd been hit by a truck. He was bruised and bloody. One of his pant legs had been ripped completely off, and the shirt he was wearing, or what was left of it, was torn to shreds. "H...h.....hel...Help m...mmm.....me P...PP..PLEASE!!!"
Charlie took him by the arms and pulled him into the room. He sat him up against an old desk and examined him further. He was bleeding badly. Charlie wiped away most of the blood, and as he did so, he saw where the blood was coming from. On the man's chest, where his shirt had been torn, there were four cuts. Deep cuts. Blood was oozing out of them again. He thought for a moment. Four cuts? Wait!!! The only thing that could do something like that were.......................CLAWS!!!
"What happened to you? Who did this to you?" Charlie yelled.
"Y...you wouldn't believe me if you tried" the man replied.
"Try me." Charlie barked back. "I'm having one hell of a night, so I'll believe anything at this point"
"Okay" the man said "But don't say I didn't warn you. Get ready for one fucked up story"