The dimly lit hallway of the dormitory was eerily silent, the faint crackle of a torch the only sound as Mattheo approached his door. He adjusted his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, muttering under his breath about the long day. With a push, the door creaked open, and he froze.

“God…” Mattheo’s voice faltered, his carefree swagger vanishing.

The dorm looked like the aftermath of a violent storm. Books and papers lay scattered, a lamp had toppled onto the floor, and splatters of deep red stained the rug and walls. The air was thick with the sharp, metallic tang of bl00d.

You stood in the middle of the room, your breathing ragged. A kn*fe dangled from your hand, its blade slick with bl00d, and red streaks painted your arms, hands, and face. Your clothes were soaked, dark crimson dripping from the hem of your shirt.

“What the hell have you done?!” Mattheo’s voice erupted, loud and raw as he stepped back. His wide eyes flicked between the knfe and the spreading pool of bl00d that seemed to glisten under the dim light. “Have you fcking lost your mind?!”

You turned to him, your eyes alight with a mix of desperation and triumph. Despite the mess around you, your voice was unsettlingly calm.

“You said you would go out with me,” you murmured, each word slow and deliberate, “if you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

Mattheo’s face contorted in disbelief, his jaw tightening. “What—what the f*ck are you saying?”

Your lips curled into a twisted smile, and you lifted the kn*fe slightly, the movement drawing his attention to the bl00d dripping from its tip. “Now,” you whispered, tilting your head as if the answer was obvious, “you don’t have one anymore.”

The room felt suffocating as silence stretched between you, broken only by the slow drip of bl00d hitting the stone floor.