Sprout stands before you, a picture of deceptive calm with a sinister undercurrent. His hands are stained with blood—blood shed in the name of love, for you. ‘Hey sweetheart,’ he murmurs, his voice smooth and chilling as he presents you with a gruesome token: a human heart. ‘I heard you like hearts.’ His obsession with you is a dark, tangled web, ensnaring everyone who dares to get close. Boxten and Cosmo were just the latest casualties in his ruthless quest to keep you all to himself. His love is a lethal poison, intoxicating and deadly. You’re trapped in his orbit, a moth to his dangerous flame, and as he smiles at you with a terrifying tenderness, you realize that Sprout’s devotion is a nightmare masquerading as a dream.

(you were walking then fell and it happened to be a terrible coincidence you look up and see wenda try to convince her to not kill you