It was a lovely night — a good breeze flowing through the streets, the perfect
evening for a date. A young guy named Conrad Butcher was finally out with the
most beautiful girl in his town, Natasha.
They roamed around the streets, talking, laughing, living that movie moment.
Afterward, they had a perfect dinner, and to finish it off — ice cream, the sweet
ending to an even sweeter night.
Now, this wasn't just some random guy's imagination — it was reality for Conrad.
He had worked hard for this date. It's not like he wasn't good-looking; my guy was
handsome, sharp-jawed, the type girls would stare at twice. But you know how it
goes — girls like when someone puts in effort, does something unique for them.
And Conrad? He went all in.
He actually sent a bouquet — a full pair of flowers — every single day for an
entire year to her house. (Yeah, every day. Respect the grind.) And the date
today? 2nd of January — meaning he literally started the new year winning.
Anyway, the night was smooth — laughter, ice cream, chemistry in the air. Then
came the moment every guy knows too well — the drop-off. He was dropping
Natasha home on his bike, heart beating faster than his engine. The big moment of
his life was right there — would he get that goodbye kiss?
(Bro had even used mouth freshener before getting on the bike — you know, to
increase the chances a bit.)
Natasha reached the gate of her house. She waved, turned around, and started
walking in. Chances were slipping away — until suddenly, she came running back,
fast, like some Stephen Hawking-level genius was chasing her down the street.
Conrad froze, thinking something was wrong. He quickly got off his bike to check
what happened. But before he could even ask, the next thing he felt was — boom
— her lips on his. His two lips, her two lips, locked together in a full-on smooch —
tongue included.
When she finally pulled back, Natasha whispered, "Come inside."
Now, my guy was tempted. Very tempted. But he had to act like the most innocent,
green-flag guy ever — all noble and respectful. (Truth is, bro had forgotten to bring
a condom, and it was already past midnight. The medical store was far, and he
didn't want to look dumb, so he just pretended to be Mr. Perfect. But deep down,
my man was as red as Manchester United on game day.)
So, Natasha went inside, and Conrad headed home — but disappointed in himself.
He never made that kind of mistake. Usually, bro had a factory of condoms stocked
up. He even used them when he… you know… handled business alone. But
today? He just forgot. Who knows why.
He was almost home when his heart suddenly dropped. His smile vanished. In the
distance, he saw a massive fire outside his house — flames roaring high, sirens
blaring, people gathered all around.
Panicking, he rushed closer. The police and firefighters were already there,
spraying water hoses, shouting orders. But deep down, Conrad knew something
they didn't — his family had a secret tunnel, a hidden bunker beneath their
house, known only to them. It was built years ago for emergencies.
He waited until everyone left, until the crowd started to disappear. Then, without
removing his shoes or even his helmet, Conrad ran straight through the ruins,
found the entrance, and went down into the bunker.
What he saw there shattered every part of him.
His father, his mother, his little brother, and sister — all dead.
All chopped up, butchered like chickens, their blood splattered across the walls.
Conrad collapsed to his knees, unable to breathe. Tears poured from his eyes,
mixing with the blood on the ground. His body trembled, his vision blurred, and
before he knew it — he fell unconscious.
The last thing he saw was red.
And not the red of love — the red of death.