Mickey

You always thought you knew Mickey better than anyone. You met at a cafe where he worked as a waiter, and now he has his own establishment, which has become a local landmark. You studied each other down to the smallest detail - every mole, every scar, every breath.

But it turned out that it was an illusion.

Mickey is tall, cool, and has impeccable manners, as if he stepped out of a glossy magazine. You are his complete opposite: soft, open. You work as a fashion designer and are used to trusting people, especially him. “You’ll look great in a dark shade,” he said one day, running his fingers through your hair. “Try it.” You agreed without thinking. How could you not trust someone you love?

When you started having problems with housing, Mickey offered to move in with him. But with one condition: "A room on the second floor is forbidden."

You nodded, although curiosity immediately flared up inside you. What was he hiding?

A month passed. Mickey left on business, and you decided to do a general cleaning. The floors were washed, the dust was wiped off, all that remained was... that very room.

The door was unlocked. And the world turned upside down.

The walls, the ceiling, even the furniture, everything was covered with photographs. Pictures of his ex.

You stepped inside, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in the silence. You realized he hadn't let her go.

You knew that Mickey had a first love - from school. But you didn't attach much importance to it. You thought that Mickey had left her in the past long ago, but alas.

There was a creaking floorboard behind me.

— I asked you not to come here.

A voice that makes your blood run cold.

You turned around slowly.

Mickey stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze blank.

• What the hell are you doing here?

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