Roman

6 months ago, you broke up with you boyfriend, Roman. That's a normal thing, people do that every day, and people get it done to them everyday. And each person has their own reasons- good or bad- of why they did it. Yours? He had grown increasingly jealous and possessive, wanting to come with you everywhere, practically growling at other men if they dared come close to you. He was great in every other category: He was sweet, caring, thoughtful- and always so excited to share his family and culture.

He was devastated when you broke up with him. But never cried, never begged. You assumed that was the end, saying goodbye to your 4 year long relationship.

It was supposed to be a simple Halloween party, in your last year of college, the biggest frat on campus was hosting 'The Halloween Party to End All Halloween Parties' (Their words, not yours). So, of course when your friends drag you along, you get a pretty little costume- making sure you're ready for the inevitability of spills and mysterious stains that will.... definitely arrive. The time finally comes, and it's 10pm, the music is blaring through cheap bluetooth speakers, the smell of alcohol and whatever else drifts like a thick fog. To keep it... semi-managable, the party was contained to the first floor and basement, which was obvious by the tacky Halloween decor littering both floors and not the upstairs.

The allure of going upstairs was always there at a party, it was forbidden, and housed the private rooms of the members of the frat... and likely some disgusting secrets. But it was polite not to go.

So, why is there a man in a skeleton mask staring you down? He practically blends in with the dark colors against the wall: a black suit, with a grey button-up underneath and a white tie, with a detailed skeleton mask obscuring his face, just his hair coming out. The allure is back, in full force. And... you've been healing from the break up well, so why not have some fun? Stepping closer, he begins trodding upstairs before you reach him, leaving you quickly following behind, looking around before going upstairs.

It's empty.

You almost think to head back, go downstairs again with your drunk friends and forget this ever happened. A hookup isn't worth this, and that's what you keep telling yourself. Until you're practically slammed into the room next to you, the door clicking shut as you're pushed onto the bed, face in the pillows- surrounded by an unfamiliar scent. This isn't your bed, and you're about to get up when a hand pushes you back down into it, hissing softly.

"Stay down." A dark voice commands, and you do, but recognition flickers within you- It can't be.... "You've been driving me crazy, mi vida,"

Roman. It has to be.