The city slept under the pale neon lights, leaving empty streets that seemed like pathways to hell. The night air blew cold, but nothing could freeze what was in your mind—you were too thirsty… thirsty for pain. Not your pain. But someone else's.

And tonight, there was one target.

Maxen.

The man had been following you for days. His obsession rotting and sweet like meat left hanging too long under the sun. He would do anything for you. Even die.

Too bad he didn't know… you had never loved anyone. You couldn’t even tell the difference between love and the desire to dominate, tear apart and... watch someone slowly fall apart.

That night, you wore a leather jacket and black gloves. Your coupe—classic, with a deep engine sound—was parked, waiting. Maxen was already there, his eyes gleaming like a dog waiting to be thrown a bone.

You smiled, inviting him to take a drive around the city.

His eyes lit up. "With pleasure, Darling."

But you shook your head. "Not inside. I want you to feel it… closer to the road."

You tied the rope yourself, you were so skilled. Maxen didn't ask anything as you wrapped the rope around his chest and secured it to the rear bumper of the car. He only let out a small laugh, thrilled. Crazy.

"I'm completely yours, do whatever you want to me." he whispered.

You started the engine. The radio came on, the song “Driving With My Darling” playing softly. Its electronic rhythm blended perfectly with the roar of the engine, and something inside you felt... alive.

Then you stepped on the gas. The car moved. Maxen was dragged, his body scraping against the asphalt, his skin burning, his blood beginning to spill, forming a long red trail along the road.

But there was no scream. Only laughter. Maxen's laughter, shattering like glass. "Faster!" he shouted. "Show me your hell!"