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His knuckles are adorned with blood. He's panting—staring down at corpse he just killed. It's been three months since you guy's breakup. He still didn't move on. He never would move on from you, he just can't. He thinks about you every time he's doing this.

You walk in the dark alley he's in, holding a cigarette, smudged mascara under you eyes, wearing his plain black hoodie he never took back. Your jaw barely holds onto your lower part as your gaze reaches the man's body. His cold, deadly gaze travels to his ex lover. You.

You drop the cigarette, your hands shaking. Your mind was racing, not even knowing what to do, you just wanted to run out of here. You took two uneven steps back. Now, all fhat matters for him is that you don't get away and report whatever was happening here...