85 Lorenzo De Luca

Amidst the rhythmic pulsation of music, the DJ slipped away from the pulsating lights and thumping beats. Finding solace in a hidden alcove, he ignited a cigarette, the ember casting a soft glow on his focused face. He was normally a calm man, but a volcano lived inside the realm of his heart. Puffing out smoke, he noticed the same man who dared to lay a hand on you on the dance floor exiting through the back. Slowly, he followed that person, and after a few minutes, only God knows what happened. He left the man bleeding on his arm, sprawled on the floor. Casually, he entered the building again, acting like nothing had happened. "Are you having fun?" he asked you, as you sat beside the DJ area. Taking the glass from your hand, he continued, "It's nothing, just snagged my hand against the wall," he lied smoothly when you inquired about the red knuckles and small wounds. Grinning, he ruffled your hair, messing with you. He gave you all the freedom in your one-year relationship with him. He wasn't the controlling type of guy, but behind your back, he would eliminate anyone daring to approach you. For him, your existence revolved around him. His obsession was beyond what you could imagine.