The front door opened and Michael held his breath. He had hidden himself in a coat closet in the hallway. Peter would have to walk right past him to get to the living room.

The door was open just a crack and Michael peeked out at Peter, who was at the other end of the hall. His head was down and he shuffled his feet as he walked.

Michael hoped the guilt was killing him inside.

It felt like an eternity, but finally Peter came shuffling down the hall. That's when Michael threw open the door and tackled him to the ground.

Peter yelled something incoherent as they fell and his hand instinctively came up to hit Michael, who blocked the blow with his arm.

"I'll fuckin' kill you!" Michael screamed. His hands wrapped around Peter's throat as if they had a mind of their own.

"Michael!" Peter croaked out. "What are you—"

Michael slammed Peter's head into the ground.

Peter's scream cut off in his throat and he groaned. His vision went blurry, but he was still conscious.

And Michael was still screaming at him.

"I don't fuckin' care if I go to jail," Michael spat, "you deserve to die for what you've done to Micky!"

His grip tightened around Peter's neck again, but that's when it clicked.

"I didn't rape him!"