More than Murder

The anger in his booming voice was totally consuming.  The impression he made with his index finger pressing firmly on Peter’s nose left no doubt that he meant business.  Angelo did not intend to waste any more time on this loser.  He made that evident with his tone.  The beads of perspiration rolling across the protruding blood vessels on his temples painted a horrible picture in Peter’s mind.

“So the Hillbilly queers owe you money, huh?” Angelo shouted.  “Well, I guess you need to take a little trip to visit your faggot friends and get it.  I’m going to send Leo here with you, just to make sure you come back.  You get that money and be back here Monday – or Leo will be bringing you back in a bag!”

With that, Angelo stormed out the kitchen door, almost tearing the screen off its hinges.

Tears and perspiration rolled down Peter’s face, bringing back a flush of the color that had drained when Angelo and his friend Leo first burst into his house.  He laid over the table and cradled his head in his hands.  His heart was pounding so hard he thought that his head would explode.  He thought his body had gone numb, but now he could feel his pulse in the bottoms of his feet.  He had never in his life been so terrified.  After a few silent minutes he was able to regain his composure enough to breathe again.