Seconds later, a mere whisper of sound had sent his heart thumping in its race to escape the confines of his chest. Quickly, he’d moved over to the desk, leaning down only to discover two girls hiding underneath. But it was the realization that one of them was on the phone that had sent him into a full-fledged panic before his natural instincts on the field kicked in, and he’d simply gone with his gut reaction with no thought of the possible consequences.

So now, along with murder, he had two new problems who were currently huddled together in the corner, their hands and feet secured, and their mouths covered with disintegrating duct tape he’d found stashed in the back of the old junk drawer.

While the tape managed to keep them from hitting and kicking and kept their muffled cries to a tolerable level so he could think, it did nothing to hide their wild, fear-filled eyes from following his every movement or their tears from falling every time he shouted. But more than anything else, it was the accusation in their eyes and the dried blood on the side of the one girl’s face shouting Stupid at him that threatened to hurtle him the rest of the way over the edge.

He halted his pacing and planted himself in front of them, jabbing his finger in the air and waving it between the two of them. White flecks of foaming spit flew from his mouth as he roared, ‘You shouldn’t have made that call. Why did you even have to be home? This is your fault, and now what am I supposed to do?’ His hands flew up to yank two handfuls of his hair. Watching the tremors wrack their bodies from head to toe, he knew his unwanted prisoners had no conception that his exploding rage stemmed as much from fear of being caught as it did from anger and frustration – not to mention dreading what might happen if Alex were to find out what he’d done.

With each shouted word, the girls shrank further back, their shoulders inching up around their ears as they dragged their tethered legs up even closer to their bodies, causing his tightly coiled nerves to finally unravel. Unable to stop the eruption of fury, he punched his right fist into the wall already riddled with holes he’d put there over time, ceasing only when the burning pain from his scraped and bruised fist penetrated his brain.

Stumbling backwards, panting, he whined, ‘All I wanted was to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. In and out. I’m supposed to be going pro, not to prison. I’d never survive there. Even Alex said so.’