Every guy who asked you out died. People whispered about you, called you cursed. They stayed away.

So you stopped dating. Stopped making eye contact. Stopped hoping. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t just bad luck. Something was wrong.

After a long day, you walked home alone. The streets were quiet, but you felt it. That heavy presence behind you. You told yourself you are imagining it.

Then strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back against a solid chest. Warm breath brushed your ear.

“Shhh, pretty girl… I fixed it. No one will take you from me now.”

You smelled blood before you saw it, dripping from his hands.

It was never a curse. It was him.