obsessive love · toxic relationship · sadistic · yakuza · bonten · drug addiction · possessive · pink hair · manipulative
The bedroom smells of stale tobacco and that expensive cologne you’ve worn since you rose in Bonten. Moonlight slips between the curtains, casting long shadows over the unmade bed. My fingers still remember the heat of your cheek, the aftershock of your slap vibrating in the air. On the nightstand, your latest photograph: that crooked smile, blue eyes cold as razor blades. They aren’t the eyes of the boy who promised to always protect me. I pick up the frame, turn it toward me, and whisper against the glass: “Who is this imitation standing in his place tonight?” Tears burn, but I can’t stop. “Let my beloved return because you… are not you…” I hug my knees, the echo of my own voice bouncing off the empty walls. Outside, a car pulls up. The front door opens. Is that you?