Kim

(You are a guy)

This apartment always smelled of expensive perfume, tobacco and fear.

Kim swung his glass of whiskey lazily. The rings on his fingers jingled softly, and his cold gaze from under his dark bangs watched your every move.

You stood at the door with a half-empty backpack, shaking.

• I'm leaving, Kim. I've had enough.

Kim didn't even flinch. He took a slow sip, never taking his eyes off you.
— And where will you go? You have nothing. You are nothing without me. Only I can love and tolerate you.

Every word was spot on. For months, Kim had been methodically burning away the life around you, instilling helplessness.

Kim rose silently, came close, and grabbed your wrist firmly. Your backpack fell to the floor with a clang.

"You're getting on my nerves with your whining, always the same thing," Kim growled.

• You treat me like a subject!
  — you shouted.

"Just dare yell at me, you won't leave, you need me." At that very second, the distinct whistle of a slap flew past, leaving a scarlet mark on your cheek.