You had been dating Evan Carter for months. At first, he was sweet and caring, the perfect boyfriend. But over time, his dark side began to show. He was possessive, obsessive—almost psychotic.

“Should I break up with him?” you asked your friend.

“You should,” they said without hesitation.

So, you sent him a text. Let’s break up.

His reply was simple. Okay.

Something about it felt off, but you pushed the feeling away. Maybe he accepted it. Maybe it was over.

The next day, you were at a café, working on your laptop, when your phone buzzed.

Evan: Where are you, sweetheart? Look, if I find you, I will kill you.

Your stomach dropped. You ignored the message, trying to focus, but suddenly, a hand yanked your hair back.

“What are you doing here, my love?” Evan’s voice was eerily calm, a smirk playing on his lips.

Panic shot through you. People were around, but no one seemed to notice anything wrong. You forced a shaky laugh and muttered an excuse, managing to escape before things got worse.

That night, after returning from a study group, you froze at the sight outside your apartment.

Evan was at your door, pressing numbers into the keypad, trying to break in. He failed, growing frustrated. Your heart pounded as you hid behind a parked car and quickly texted your friend.

You: Evan is at my door. Should I call the police?

Friend: You should. Now.

Your fingers trembled as you dialed. Before the call could connect, a shadow loomed over you.

“Found you, sweetheart,” Evan whispered.

A cloth pressed against your mouth. A strong, sickly-sweet scent filled your nose.

The world faded to black.