They say we all have the capacity within ourselves to lose control--- to result in the shedding of blood, to commit an act of violence we never thought possible.

It's the rage born inside us, unleashing itself in a power of hostility, that I saw in Peter's eyes as I was prepping to close Mocha Daze. He was silent as he watched me wipe down the counter from the other side of the room, waiting for the last customer to walk out the door. But the customer lingered, so Peter crossed to the internet computers--- seeing the 4 sale sign above them.

He pushed at the keyboard, his mannerism of defiant anger obvious.

"Can I help you with something Peter?" I asked.

He looked at the last customer, who still lingered at the milk station, meticulously adding his Sugar In the Raw to his double capp--- swirling it with the precision of a scientist. He sipped it, moving towards the front door and crossing outside.

"Yes, you can help me," Peter responded. "I need help with my anger. Because I know you killed Barbra."

Oh, here we go again, I thought. When is this pathetic little man going to get over the fact that I DID kill his sister--- my wife--- and get on with his life?

"Peter, what do want from me?"

And I could see it in his eyes--- the rage of someone losing control--- of someone at their wit's end. He picked up one of the computers, struggling to carry it as I ran towards him.

I struggled for it, trying my best to grab it from him as he pushed me back.

"Stay away from me or I swear to God I'll throw this across the room!" threatened Peter.

"Peter," I could tell he was a goner. "Just put it down. What's this about, money? You need some cash?"

"This isn't about FUCKING MONEY!" And with that he threw the computer into the air, letting it go. I reached for the bulky square of plastic as it ricocheted off my arms and moved towards the floor. I continued to reach for it, grabbing hold of it as it hit my legs, using my feet as a cushion.

The feeling shot through my feet like a violent splinter, rising through my body in a wave of numbing pain.

I had saved the computer--- barely, but as I realized this--- I saw Peter moving towards the other monitor. I left the computer on the ground and jumped him, knocking him to the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I yelled, grabbing the little twerp by the collar.

But he was silent as he continued to struggle against me, until he murmured, "You killed her. And I liked you."

Is that what all of this was about--- love? So we had sex, big deal, but perhaps it was the idea of knowing he was intimate with a killer?

I pushed him back to the floor, "STOP IT PETER!"

But he continued to push against me, the tears beginning to fall. "Why'd you do this?"

I had nothing to say, when he managed to grab hold of my hair and SLAM me into the wall. Suddenly, Mocha Daze began to spin, and I saw him moving closer to me.

He punched me across the face, the room now vertical as I tried to stay conscious. He had scored! He was actually in control.

In that moment, I saw him grab the computer, bring it closer to me--- and raise it above my head. I tried to move out of the way but my body was immobile--- frozen--- staring at the heavy machinery now dangling above my bleeding skull.

I looked at Peter, his eyes wide, about to drop the computer into my face.