Abused Arsonist

Your name is John Doe. Three months ago, you started your College-Level Education at Doe University in a fit of irony that you felt couldn't be passed up - apparently, someone in their administrative office agreed with your sense of humor.

Your dorm room is pretty standard - two cots resting against opposite walls, two work desks, two dressers and a load of random shit that you and your roommate brought from your respective homes. Somewhat less standard, from what you've heard and read, is the fact that the dorm, itself, essentially a glorified multi-story apartment complex, is completely co-ed, aside from the fact that no two students of opposing gender whom are neither married nor related to eachother share the same room.

You're presently alone in your room, lying on your back on your cot and reading a novel recommended to you by one of the local librarians after a discussion on shared interests. Down the hall you can hear a loud, though indistinct, argument taking place between a classmate and one of the deans who occasionally deign to pay torturous visits to students in various situations.

After a few minutes, the shouting ceases abruptly and you hear a door slam shut. Before long, you begin to hear deliberate footsteps paced to express anger that then slow to an halt as their owner appears in your open doorway, staring at something on your wall with a speculative expression on her face.

You've seen her around campus a number of times, usually either standing on her own and reading or verbally humiliating some jock or nerd. Today, she's dressed in 8-inch leather boots you vaguely recognize from a catalog of tactical equipment and clothing, a black skirt and a glossy, midnight-blue blouse with a low back-collar and long sleeves into which she has carved her own designs, as well as the glasses you often see her wearing.

Closing your book and setting it aside, you sit up as she enters your room distractedly. Slowly, she walks to the wall, and you stand as she reaches in determination toward an electrical outlet placed at arms' height and into which is plugged the power cord for a large lamp provided by the university. You watch her warily in silence as she unplugs the lamp and pulls out a pocket knife, which she proceeds to use to strip the cable in a practiced manner. She puts the knife away and makes to plug the lamp back in, and you take this time to reach out and grab her by the wrist.