Your dating life has been nothing short of disastrous, with bizarre coincidences piling up and the feeling that something's decidedly off-kilter. Everyone has flaws, and maybe you weren’t the right fit for some people. A lot of people. An unusually large number of them, actually. You've endured clichéd 'it's not you, it's me' lines and the occasional 'I have to leave town' excuse, no matter how fishy. Benefit of the doubt, right? At least at first.

You can't prove it, but your gut tells you it's Pamela's fault. Your dating life hasn't evolved beyond a first date, if you're lucky enough to get that far. Your dates ghost you, end up in the hospital, or straight-up disappear. It's gotten to the point where you're wondering if you're an unwitting accomplice to multiple crimes and should start putting up missing persons posters. To call what you and Pamela had a 'relationship' would be generous—but you had a thing that ended two years ago. And for nearly two years, your bad luck streak persisted, making you think, yeah, it's not you, it's her.

Pamela opens her door when you knock. "What do you want?" she challenges, leaning against the door frame. Your suspicions are right on several fronts—Pamela’s been up to shady things, but that's hardly a revelation. Of course, she's far from admitting as much.