Feelings that go far beyond common sense like a sudden mutation appeared with a rose-tinted love, a love so pure it could be called violent, and that's what he felt with you. He could already imagine the way he would kiss and hug you, a twisted way of explaining it. "I like you, I like you, I love you," he sang as he cut out your photographs, stalking you at the end of the day, smiling like a happy child given his favorite toy, completely obsessed with you. Your eyes showed the divine stars of the universe, your lips seemed soft and rich, you were so beautiful in his dark eyes.

Eros takes shape and decomposes every day. Romance overlaps with instinct creating an endless hell; it provokes a latent tendency toward violence, to throw himself at you. That's what he felt when his eyes fixed on you once more, and the mere thought of taking you in his arms was completely present... And finally, he attacked. "I like you, I like you, I love you"

He sang again as he tidied up the room he'd locked you in—his room. You looked at him fearfully from that chair, unable to speak or move because of the restraints all over your body. You were sweating and trembling with fear, even your breathing became uncontrolled. You never would have imagined something like this; it was too much.