[ WP ] You are in a dark room with a gun held to your head . Describe the events over last 24 hours leading up this point .

Fuck. I wanted more than anything to deny all of this could really be happening. I could ask why me, but that was no good. I couldn ’ t absolve myself of responsibility. I had done things and they had led to this. They say no good deed goes unpunished but that ’ s a shit reason. Really, I had been sloppy; rushing had made me careless and now I was going to pay for it. 
 
 For months I had heard Miriam and her worthless husband Steve having screaming fits. I had heard the smacks and cries of pain. I tried the cops, but Miriam wouldn ’ t admit to being abused and their hands were tied. 
 
 Truth was, I liked Miriam. She ’ d been my neighbor seven years, and it had gone too far now. She had once been so different. We used to talk. Sit by the pool and drink sweet tea and just talk. Now she avoided me. That last time we ’ d spoken, they ’ d had a fight when Steve came home from the bars. Next morning I caught a glimpse of a bruise as she tried to hide it with turtleneck sweater. 
 
 They were fighting when I came home early yesterday from the office. Maybe it was the fact I had only ever heard those smack while I was in my room. Something there, some psychological reason that prevents one from leaving their home maybe. Home is safe, and going out there is not, so maybe some base instinct takes over and we stay where we ’ re safe. Not this time. I was walking by their door. 
 
 This time I stopped and knocked roughly on the door. Steve answered, his v-neck shirt stained with alcohol and some mustard. It was an old ratty thing, filled with all sort of holes, started small and grown as the material stretched over his growing girth in the last few months. His breath smelled of tobacco and whiskey. 
 
 I threatened him, and when that didn ’ t stick, I got fed up and shoved my way into the apartment and roughed him up a bit. On a normal day, a fight with him would have given him even odds, but he was drunk and slow. His anger also threw him off. When we were done he had a split lip and I ’ d broken two of his fingers and had him in a lock. 
 
 I made it clear he wasn ’ t to leave and never come back, and if he tried, I would kill him. I explained that with all the reports the police probably would hardly investigate if I claimed self-defense. Bullshit, but he did n't seem in a condition to realize it. 
 
 I thought that would be it. Years ago, I would ’ ve known better. You humiliate a man like that, he only gets more brazen. You wound an ego and you ’ re asking for trouble. 
 
 Now, here I was, the cold double barrel pressing against my temple, in the janitor ’ s closet. He ’ d taken me by surprise when I ’ d come home from my evening jog. With two more guys with him, and without my advantage of his drunken stupor I hadn ’ t stood a chance. I thought it was likely I had a few cracked ribs, and my wrist hurt when I twitched my fingers, which were rapidly feeling thick and cold. Those were really the least of my worries, though. Fucking hell. 

