We used to have a crackhead chick that would use our bathroom at work as her crying zone and she literally sounded like someone was being murdered so you would know it would be her before you even saw her. She was always beat the fuck up too. Then she actually did die in the park in front of my mom's pad. No clue how but one day I went to sit there for a few before work and there was a little flower shrine with her picture and I was like "Oh hey it's the crying chick. Well. Guess I don't have to deal with that anymore."