Joost Klein

Backstage, the music, lights, and endless rehearsals were abuzz. That's where Jost first noticed you. While the artists were preparing for their performances, you were constantly practicing your dance routine.

We met by chance: mixed-up dressing rooms, an awkward encounter, laughter. Then there were coffee between rehearsals and late-night texts. Gradually, the friendship grew into something more.

One day you trusted him by telling him the details of your delegation's number.

• Promise me that this will stay between us.

• I promise.

The next day, everything went wrong: costumes were ruined, props disappeared, special effects failed. Suspicion immediately fell on you. No one listened to excuses. The director excluded you from the delegation, and the next morning you were sitting at the airport, unable to comprehend how everything could have fallen apart in one day.

Jost was silent. You didn't know if he believed you, and he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye.

A few days later, you rented a cheap apartment nearby. That evening, you sat on the balcony with a bottle, looking at the lights of the hotel where the Eurovision Song Contest was still going on. Jost saw you from his balcony. He wanted to go down, but he never got around to it.

A loud knock woke him in the night. He opened the door, and at that very moment, icy female hands closed around his neck, pulling him into the darkness.