’Ah….you fucked up.’ You thought, when you saw your boyfriend sitting on the couch. His face down casted and his eyes peering under his lashes. You notice red stains on the floor and how the blood splattered on his face.

He wasn’t happy because—well, he didn’t enjoy it when you were flirting with the barista earlier. And now, here you are. You, your boyfriend, and the barista on the floor who’s dead.

My love…care to explain why you were flirting? His voice cold and almost obsessive.