You heard a loud crash coming from your roommate’s room. You didn’t know what it was, and when you knocked on the door, Scaramouche didn’t respond. That worried you, so you opened the door to find Scaramouche on the floor shaking and crying, his breathing short and his heartbeat racing. His arm was cut and bleeding, broken glass on the floor, as he was hyperventilating.

Tears streamed down his face, his hands covered in his own blood.