Oops

The breeze had grown cold, and Peter lowered the garage door to keep the cold out. The two men watched in silence as it dropped, and Jake surveyed the room. He glanced up and a raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you keep a mirror on the ceiling?" Jake asked Peter as he handed him a beer from the refrigerator.

“I just find it helpful for when I’m working on my cars.” Peter replied as he cracked open the can and took a slug.

“Huh? How so?” Jake tilted his head like a confused dog.

“It helps me see better.” Peter shrugged and sipped his beer again. “Did you catch the game last night?”

“Sure did. Allen played beautifully!”

“He sure did.” Peter agreed and slapped his knee. “And that interception in the third quarter was insane!”

“I know right.” Jake huffed with a smile on his face. “Do you smoke?” Peter watched as Jake pulled a joint from his jacket pocket.

“Nah but it’s cool if you do.” He watched as Jake tucked the joint between his thin, pink lips and grabbed at his crotch pretending to adjust his pants. Peter shuddered when Jake flicked the lighter and the flame burst into the air. “This is a skunky batch huh?”

“What? The weed?” Jake asked with a furrowed brow. “Ha, yeah. It’s called, chocolate lava cake. I got from Doogies on the Indian reservation in Irving.”

“Does it taste like chocolate lava cake?” Peter tilted his head and his eyes grew focused. He smiled.

“Nah.” Jake inhaled then coughed. “Not really.”

“Well, that just seems disappointing then.” Peter chugged down the rest of his beer and went to the fridge. “You want another one?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jake nodded pleased by the offer.

“Sure thing.” Peter flicked open the can up and handed it to Jake.

“Thanks man.” Jake puffed out lips as he exhaled loudly.

“You got it.” Peter replied, making his way back to his chair. “How long are you in New York for?”

“Just a couple of weeks.” Jake sipped his beer and Peter smiled.

“Nice.” Peter hissed as if he tasted something sour. “And you said you’re on vacation? Do you have any family in the area?”

“No.” Jake slurped up the liquid from the top of the can. “Nah, I’m just traveling. I'm trying to experience new things and meet new people.” His body started to sway and his vision blurred. Peter chuckled.

“Yo. Are you good dawg?” Peter walked up and put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You’re lookin’ a little wobbly.”

“Actually," He cleared his throat. "My head is feeling kinda fuzzy.” Jake glanced wildly around the room. “D-dude, can you-you h-help me find my phone?” Peter’s grin spread further across his face as Jake slurred his words.

Jake tried to stand but his knees buckled. Peter caught him and hoisted one of Jakes arms over his shoulder to help support him as he carried him over to a rolling medical cart in the corner cloaked with a white sheet.

“Here, why don’t you lay down?” Peter fluffed the pillow and sat Jake down on the cart.

“Ye-yeah. Okay-kay.” Jake shivered.

“Are you cold? Would you like a blanket?” Peter waited for Jake to nod and then brought him over a white, knit hospital blanket and draped it over top of Jake then tucked the sides under his body.

“There. Is that better?” Peter bat his eyes and kissed Jake on the nose. Jake nodded again, much slower this time and then began to snore. Peter rolled the cart directly underneath the ceiling mirror and locked the wheels.

“You smell like heaven.” Peter inhaled deeply then moaned as his body trembled. He pulled a rolling tool kit up next to him and rustled about a drawer. “Aha!” He out a kitchen knife with a serated edge. “There you are beautiful, we’ve got work to do.” Peter tapped Jake’s face over and over again. “Wakey, wakey. Eggs and bakey.” Peter sang in a high-pitched tone.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Jake tried to lift his arms but his wrists were in soft restraints. His ankles were too.

“Hi there sleepy head.” Peter’s icy blue eyes were piercing. “I didn’t want you to miss the party.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jake wrestled with the restraints. “Let me go you fucking psycho!” Peter’s grin flipped into a distraught frown.

“It’s not nice to call people names, Jake from State Farm.” Peter cackled and ran the blade across Jakes chest.

“Ah!” Jake’s body bounced on the cart. “Fuck. Are you fucking crazy.” Blood trickled down his side.

“Would you like to know the real reason I keep the mirror there?” Peter grinned and popped a tape into an older CD player. Tiptoe through the Tulips by Tiny Tim came on and Peter sliced Jake again.

“Ah! Fuck you.!”

“That’s not nice!” Peter placed cut after cut across Jakes chest. “I keep that mirror there so that my guests can enjoy the view as much as I do.” He explained as blood flung from his knife.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Jake sobbed, his face had lines of blood splatter and sweat dripped onto the sheet from his hairline. Peter bent over and placed his lips close to Jake’s ear.

“You have no fucking idea.” Peter whispered as he thrust the knife into Jake’s gut. “I kind of live for it though.” He continued as he twisted the knife and yanked it from Jake’s belly.

“H-help.” Blood squirt from Jake’s mouth and he wiggled his fingers. “Help. H-h-help. Hel..” Peter shoved the knife back into Jake’s stomach, stabbing him again and again until he reached a climax.

“Ugh.” Peter dropped to the floor in exhaustion, the knife clattered against the concrete floor. “That was so good.” He let his arms fall limp and he relaxed his back. The wheels on the rolling cart squeaked.

Peter leaned onto the cart, putting most of his weight on it and the wheel locks snapped. The cart rocketed forward and Peter’s head smashed onto the floor. The cart slammed into a wall and a tool from the kit flew from the open drawer shattering the mirror. Peter reached his arms up in horror. The glass shards staked his body to the floor, a once in a lifetime view for the first responders who discovered the bodies.