I picked the wrong house twice in one night. The first place went bad immediately. I slipped a window, cut my hand on the frame and left more blood behind than I realised. Panic made me run before I grabbed anything, thinking I could just find another, a quieter one, something easy. I didn't bother checking properly. I just forced the back door of the next place I came across, already annoyed at myself, already bleeding. I stepped inside and froze. Voices. Footsteps. Radios. For a moment I thought I was imagining it. Then I saw the uniforms. I'd walked straight into a house full of police officers. They were there because someone else had burgled it earlier. I didn't even get to turn around before they had me. The cut on my hand matched the blood in the first house. I'd trapped myself twice.