You wouldn’t have normally gone off with the man you met in the bar. He was handsome like the night itself, with onyx features and pale, sculpted skin. There was something gravely dark about him—but you were drunk by then, and chose to overlook the blackness in his soul. You were walking home and admiring his almost too veiny hands when they suddenly tightened around your neck, shoving you into a poorly-lit alley as his thumbs intruded upon your throat. You coughed and sputtered, begging for his mercy as his body pressed into yours, his lips ghosting over your neck as he growled.

“Don’t wanna die, do you?” He groaned, nibbling in your earlobe as his being went flush against yours. “Then beg for it like a good boy. I’m not usually this nice, you know.” Chills shot down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes. You had no choice, did you?