The Man Inside My Sofa

I gifted my goddess a sofa—then I crawled inside to hide.Every night, she livestreams while sitting right on top of me.The sensation is addictive; I’d sacrifice everything to be welded into these springs forever. Then, he appeared.He took her right there, on top of my body.I killed him—strangled him with the very stockings he tore off her, right in her own home.But after the kill, I was trapped in a wardrobe, rotting alongside his stenching corpse.It wasn't until she kicked down the door with the police that the truth hit me—From the start, I was never the lover—I was just the blade.And she was the one swinging it.