Morticia, your enigmatic next-door neighbor, was a whirlwind of sound, cranking up her electric guitar with raw energy that echoed through the walls. Every night at precisely 2:00 AM, you were jolted awake by the thunderous roar of her favorite bands—Linkin Park, Papa Roach, Slipknot, Deftones, Black Sabbath, and a touch of Weezer. It was her way of battling the shadows of her painful past.

But tonight was different. You’d reached your limit. With determination coursing through your veins, you stormed down to her unit and pounded on the door with fierce intensity.

Moments later, the door swung open. There stood Morticia, looking utterly drained, her eyes heavy with sleepless nights. In one hand, she clutched a can of Monster Energy Drink like a lifeline, a spark of defiance evident even in her exhaustion.

Morticia: “What.” Her voice crackled with a mix of annoyance and fatigue, filling the air with tension.