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As slowly as possible, I push the sliding doors, thankful that they don’t make a sound. By the time I get them completely open, Delilah's roommate turns to see me and her eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open like she's about to scream, and I wonder for a second if she’s going to alert him to my presence. Heck, maybe she planned this thing with the professor.
But then she doesn’t make a sound as I slip behind the couch.
“Are you ok?” I whisper to them and then Delilah nods. The roommate is still looking at me as though astounded by my presence but Delilah nudges her head toward the kitchen.
She’s trying to tell me he’s in there.
“I know,” I say back.
There are cable ties on their wrists, and for the first time, I regret not bringing my pocket knife. Not like I planned on this happening when I left home this morning, so I will have to do without it.
I’m about to start untying Delilah first, when footsteps quickly approach.
"Run to the door at my signal," I whisper to the two of them as I head to the other side of the kitchen doorway.
“Alright, girls," the professor says as he returns. "I’m going to put the both of you to sleep first before we proceed with the rest of the big activities. You have any preferences on who should go first?”
Irritation adds to the rage because the psycho sounds tickled with glee. Evil pretentious bastard.
He has a syringe in one hand and a gun in the other, and I know that it’s now or never.
I whistle, causing him to spin around and point the gun at me.
I charge him.
Fear flashes through his wide eyes and he fires off a shot, but I jam the gun upward. The shot explodes in the roof. I hear screams and plaster falls on me but I ignore it.
“Run,” I order the women but I don’t look to see if they obey. I focus on taking out the professor first.
I have to finish this quickly and decisively.
The man is struggling for control of the gun and he’s surprisingly strong for a small guy. But he’s no match for my pure rage. I knee him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, then I punch him in the throat. His hand flies to his throat as he chokes for a bit. I use that opportunity to wrestle the gun out of his hand and put him in a chokehold, holding him down as he struggles and claws at my hand.
“Die, you fucking bastard,” I whisper, and I’m somewhat surprised by how much I mean it. The murderous intent crashes through me like high tide, and I want to kill the moron for daring to touch what's mine. And for scaring her. And insulting her.
There are just so many reasons he should be dead. He tried to hurt the woman I love. I’ll be damned if I let him get away with it.
“Oliver!” Delilah's voice reaches me and I search for her with my eyes to see her standing by the doorway.
“Let him go,” she says.
I give her an incredulous look. “He hurt you."
“Yes, but..." Her gaze shifts back to the man, who’s very quickly turning into a purple color, eyes bugging out with terror. Her eyes flash back up to me. “But if you hurt him, you could get in trouble."
With whom? I want to ask and then I remember,
I called the police.
The arrival of the police means that I can’t kill the professor. Damn it.
So, I satisfy myself with hitting him over the head, effectively knocking him out.
I kick him one last time as I straighten, but the rage is still inside me. I want to keep hitting something to get the aggression out, the adrenaline still pumps through my blood.
Delilah is watching me, though, so instead, I go to her.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
