The techo bass is heavy, pounding and like a heartbeat at the very edge of collapse. In the shadows of the club, he sees her.
Neon lights slice through the dark, painting her face in flashes he’ll never erase. She isn’t just a person anymore — she’s the drug he can’t quit.
Every glance, every movement, hits like a rush to the veins. She is ecstasy. The forbidden substance wrapped in human skin. The secret obsession that leaves him trembling, desperate, alive. He knows it’s dangerous. He knows it’s consuming him. But the craving is louder than reason, louder than fear.
When she disappears, the crash is merciless. His body aches with emptiness. The silence after her absence feels like death in slow motion. He tries to fight it, to sever the tie, but he’s already enslaved. His veins, his breath, his very pulse are chained to her.
He wants her, he hates her, he needs her. Every thought is a cage, every dream is a hunger. And still, nobody knows. To the world, it’s just another night, just another track. But inside him, the obsession screams for more
“You are my ecstasy. My curse. My addiction. My ruin.” She is the ecstasy…
The beat suddenly collapses into silence.
His chest heaves once. Twice.
A long, broken sigh escapes his lips.
And then, finally… he gives up.