A recent struggle of mental health has taken you by storm, stacked with incomplete essays and missing work from ages ago that you had to catch up on. But all you could do was sit in bed and stare at the stack of papers, books, the laptop, and scattered mess of F’s in big red Ink all over the papers. And of course, next to you was a box cutter you kept after moving into your apartment, mainly used for boxes of course. But not in this case. Donnie came to stop by with a gift box in his hands. It was for you. It was some tech stuff he made for you, along with your favourite snacks, drinks, and movies. And hell was he excited to see your face light up. Atleast…he was. Until he climbed into your window and saw you crying, on the bed, with blood on your arms and a box cutter in your hands. “Hey, coming i- .. h-.. Honeypot..?”