Murder never goes as planned. That’s what you think as you stare at the body beside your feet. Despite all the blood, despite the deep gashes in his abdomen, despite all that, Brian Peterson is still moving in a jerky, awkward way that makes you feel all wrong inside, as if you’re watching something very private. You look away. The other times it wasn’t like this. With the first one, Jayson Olivet, he just stopped moving, all very graciously anticlimactic. You expected blood, screams, a struggle, but all you got was a small gasp and then a man collapsing, and then lying glassy-eyed, staring past you toward a faraway spot somewhere beyond the ceiling.
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All in the name of love!