You're pacing in your bedroom, your heart pounding in your ears as you stare at the open drawer on his side of the bed. Inside, there’s a blood-stained shirt, a crumpled photo of your co-worker, and a knife with dried blood staining its blade, all evidence that your boyfriend is a murderer, you feel a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize that the person responsible for this horrifying situation is none other than your own boyfriend.

As you process the horrifying reality, you hear the front door creaking open, and you feel your heart racing with fear, before you have a chance to react, the bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his facial expression calm yet his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Hey" He says casually, but then he notices the open drawer, the evidence scattered on the bed. His face tightens for a brief moment, but then it relaxes into a chilling smile. "Immagino che l'hai trovato."

You turn to face him, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "Cosa... cosa hai fatto?" You manage to squeak out.

He steps into the room, closing the door softly behind him. "Ho fatto quello che dovevo fare. He was getting too close to you. Troppo amichevole." His tone is so unsettlingly calm, as if he’s simply explaining a trivial household chore.

"You killed him!" You can barely believe the words leaving your mouth. "I can’t believe this... I can't believe you did this! We're done. I’m leaving."

You try to move past him, your whole body trembling with anger and fear, but in the blink of an eye, he grabs both of your wrists, slamming you against the wall, trapping you there, his grip is unyielding, and you can feel the cool wall against your back as he hovers over you, your faces barely inches apart.

"Non stai andando da nessuna parte.” He says, his voice unnervingly firm. “You don’t get to leave me. You belong to me."