Mercy

Patrick #2 cuts himself and Mercy has always known this. When they first met it was endearing, like something she could just break him of, like something he did to be charming, like buying flowers only these petals scabbed over, became bruises, became scars.

Patrick #2 started out by just making intricate designs in his skin when he was upset, but into high school and into young adulthood it had grown into a slash habit, as many times, in as many places, there was no more discretion.

So, it comes as no surprise, then, that Mercy was never eager to fight or make him upset. Unfortunately, though, everything upsets Patrick #2. He no longer drives a car anymore, he no longer has a cell phone, he stays up all night on speed and plays the acoustic guitar and make stencils with an X-acto knife and manilla folders. He made Mercy one that said Gustave Flaubert once in Old English Letters. Just dab a cotton ball with paint and put it on something, it'll look sweet, he told her but she never did, it sits in her desk, he looks at it from time to time.

Patrick #2 has not stopped cutting himself, Mercy is staring at him expressionless from across the table. Here is where she always ends up, across the table from people. She is across the table with her back to the door, a rarity. She doesn't like to sit with her back to the door, she likes to see who is entering behind her, if she is going to be murdered she would prefer to see her killer's eyes. The same reason why she goes to the OBGYN in October above all months, in case she is dying, she can die in Fall.

She is across the table with her back to the entrance in a cheap but clean diner across town but in the middle so neither of them had to go all the way across town to see each other which means no sex because what was the point in meeting in the middle if all they were going to do was go to one of their houses far away?

Patrick #2 has blood under his fingers.