Off topic but where did you get that scar from Patrick?
I didn't think anyone would notice. No...of course someone would. I guess I just didn't think anyone would be crass enough to bring it up.
I suppose it is relevant though...considering Habit gave me this scar. Well...sort of. I'll tell you what happened.
It was back when I had sought Habit out for the first time, not long after Shaun's death. The first time was supposed to be the last time, for me at least. I wanted to put an end to my misery and give the rotten bastard a spit in the eye on the way out.
Only Habit didn't let me drown in that tub. At the last second he pulled me out, and though I could barely see anything through my wet hair and oxygen-deprived eyes...for a moment I swear Habit looked rather spooked at his own apparent mercy.
The moment didn't last long, obviously. In the next, Habit was grabbing me up by the shirt and he pulled me to my feet. He looked angry now, as angry as he had been just minutes ago, after I mentioned the doctor he hates so much.
I remember Habit saying, "GOD YOU'RE PATHETIC."
But whether he was talking to me or to himself was unclear. He wasn't really looking at me, seemingly preoccupied with shoving me through the house and towards the front door. As we neared the threshold, I tripped over Habit's foot, which sent him tumbling over as well. Lemme tell ya...hardwood floors are unforgiving.
Anyways, I rolled onto my back as I tried to get my wits about me again, but Habit was quick to pin me down. He had a knife out now, pointing it threateningly in my face. I just smiled at him. I mean, I came here to die right? Why not smile at a second attempt on my life?
Except Habit was hesitating. It was a little annoying, actually.
"Well? Do you need permission or something? Come on, I gave you that already."
Habit brought the knife closer to my face, just short of touching anything. I grabbed his hand, and forced the blade to the skin of my cheek. I guess I nicked myself in the process, seeing Habit's eyes widen as he glares down at me. I was getting a little fed up with this.
"Do something, damn you! Do what you were made to do!"
Habit snarled ferociously. I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the void.
Instead, Habit swung his arm up and out with another growl, leaving a nasty gash in my face. And before I could even cry out in pain, he started yanking me to my feet again. I heard the knife clatter to the ground as I'm shoved out of the front door - tripping over the steps in the process, of course. The door slammed shut again, and everything was quiet.
To say I was left stunned would be an understatement. Habit had spared me. As I sat there on the sidewalk leading up to the porch, staring back at the door I just fell out of, the question of why? burned hot in my mind, hotter than the burning cut on my face that was steadily gushing blood. I still don't know the answer to that yet.
Gotta say, I'm kinda surprised Habit glossed over this detail when he recounted the same event not too long ago. Then again...he seems remorseful over his decision to come here in the first place. Surely there are more regrets he rather not mention.
