The bell hadn’t even finished ringing when the entire diner went still.

The door slammed open so hard it rattled the windows—

“Hey—!”

The waitress’s voice cut off mid-word as the camera snapped toward the entrance.

A little girl stood there.

Six years old.
Too small for a place like this.

Breathing hard.

The noise in the diner didn’t just fade—

it collapsed.

Forks hovered.
Conversations died.

She stepped forward.

Slow.

Each footstep echoing against tile and metal like it didn’t belong.

Boots shifted under tables.
Chairs creaked slightly.

Every eye followed her.

She didn’t look at anyone else.

Only one table.

Only one man.

The lead biker.

She stopped right in front of him.

Raised her hand—

pointed.

The camera tightened—

tattoo on his arm.

Worn.
Faded.
But unmistakable.

“My dad had this…”

Her voice was soft.

Too soft for the weight it carried.

The biker didn’t move at first.

Then slowly—

“…what did you say?”

Low.

Dangerous.

But not steady anymore.

The girl stepped closer.

Close enough that no one else mattered.

“He said… you would remember him.”

Silence tightened like a fist around the room.

A glass trembled somewhere—

no one dared move.

“What was his name?”

The question came faster now.

Not a threat.

Something else.

Something closer to fear.

The girl didn’t hesitate.

“Daniel Hayes.”

A glass slipped—

shattered against the floor.

No one flinched.

The biker froze.

Color draining.

“…we buried him.”

His voice cracked just enough to betray him.

The girl shook her head slowly.

Took one more step forward.

Close enough now that he had to look down at her.

“No… you didn’t.”

The words landed heavier than anything before.

The camera pushed in hard—

face to face.

Her eyes didn’t shake.

Didn’t blink.

“…because he told me what you did after.”

Everything stopped.

Even the air.

The biker’s breathing hitched—

just once.

And that was enough.

Cut to black.

Deep bass hits.