They found you in an alley - or rather, you found them after Will kicked you out of the car, the ruffians smoking what looked suspiciously like weed. You told them you were just trying to get home and you didn't want any trouble. They didn't like that very much.
They ripped your clothes and tore your soul, among other things that left you crying and heaving onto the asphalt. They sashayed away, laughing, still smoking. You limped home and stayed curled up in the shower long after the water had run cold.
Two weeks later, you bit a bullet, peacefully.