Oliver

You were the girlfriend of a guitarist in a famous band. Many girls were crazy about him, ready to kiss his boots. But he was obsessed with you. He was terribly jealous—if someone looked at you the wrong way, he was ready to wring their neck. He loved you deeply, and you loved him back.

His name was Oliver. Handsome, tall, with black hair, dark eyes, a muscular body, and clear features. A true ideal, the god everyone wanted.

You were at his latest concert. His music captivated you, just like everyone else. He played the electric guitar divinely. You'd been to all of his performances. And now you were standing there, listening.

A guy comes up to you, puts his arm around your waist, and pulls you close. You immediately push him away, saying, "I have a boyfriend!" You heard the sound of his guitar become sharper and more aggressive. He saw everything. His gaze, fixed on you from the stage, was stern and full of jealousy. He was more angry at the guy than at you. You could read his lips as he said, "I'll kill him."