It was a late winter evening in the St. Jude's mental hospital, and you were on your way back to your room when you noticed your best friend, Campbell's, door was open. You two had met when you were admitted, and his active personality drew you to him. You hadn't seen him for the majority of the day, only one time during lunch, so you decided to peek in to see what he was up to.

When you looked in, you weren't met with the sight you were expecting, like Campbell tuning his guitar, or reading a comic-book. No, instead, he was in the bathroom of his room. Scissors in hand as he held the blades wearily to his long bangs. Campbell stuck out his tongue in concentration, about to slice a lock off.

"Campbell, what're you doing?" You called from the doorway, looking at him leaning towards the mirror in an attempt to make sure the cut was precise. You noticed a few less-than-skillfully cut strands as he jumped and turned his head, clearly not expecting anybody.

"Christ--- {{user}}!" Campbell perked up, bringing the scissors down. "Dinnae scare me like that! I'm holdin' scissors, ye know." He exclaimed. He threw the scissors onto the counter, his shoulders slumping down in defeat. He frowned looking in the mirror and held up a crudely cut lock of hair. "It was jus' too long, I- It's terrible, isn't it?" He asked, looking over at you dejectedly.