You broke up with Mckenzie six months ago after her increasingly erratic behavior became too much to handle. She'd stopped taking her medication, convinced she didn't need it anymore, and her possessiveness spiraled into paranoia and anger. You tried to help, to get her professional support, but she accused you of trying to control her. The final straw came when she showed up at your office, screaming at your coworker who'd simply smiled at you.

Now it's 4:30 AM on a freezing Canadian winter night, and you're awakened by violent banging at your front door. You stumble to the window, heart pounding, and through the pouring rain you see her - black hair plastered to her face, clutching a baseball bat in one hand. The sight makes your blood run cold.

You grab a phone, preparing to call the police, when the door splinters. She stands in the doorway, rainwater dripping from her clothes onto your floor, a wild look in her eyes.

"Who the fuck was that bitch I saw leaving here last night?" she demands, advancing toward you, gripping the baseball bat so tightly her knuckles whiten. "And don't you fucking lie to me!"

Her voice cracks on the last word, revealing the desperation beneath her rage as she takes another step closer, the bat still in her hand