For months it has a never-ending cycle.

Every day you spent in this house, was another day that was the same as the last. Just a constant repeat of: waking up, digging through the cabinets for some expired snack the mice hadn’t gotten into yet, maybe staring silently into a mirror—before killing the rest of the hours of daylight with sleep.

What else were you supposed to do?

You couldn’t leave. You had tried everything for days—weeks, for everytime he left. But, nothing changed. You hadn’t even made so much as a dent in the slight possibility of escape. It was like every window was sealed shut by some force..? Every door was too.

Even that tiny bathroom window, the one you swore you could squeeze through if you just held your breath was sealed tight.

So eventually? You stopped fighting.

You told yourself it was fine. That this was enough. That Habit—that sick bastard had given you enough to live: food, shelter, something that almost looked like purpose. Even taken you from a home that had already burned itself into your nightmares and promised you something better. Something different.

And you believed it—because he told you often enough that you should.

But that only lasted so long as he stayed.

Because when he was gone? Left you alone for days, or weeks with nothing. Only the silence sinking under your skin until it pulsed in your skull—until you couldn’t tell where your mind ended and the house began.

That's when it happened. Thats when—without thinking—without even realizing you snapped.

Everything you could reach, was thrown. Smashed. Ruined. Those glass plates from the previous owner? Now were all shattered across the kitchen floor. That TV in the living room? Shoved to the ground and kicked until the screen turned to static. God, even that chair. The creaky wooden one, still dark with dried blood by the sofa, you had hurled it at the nearest window.

But—only after that, hearing that unexpected crashing noise echo through the house and glass shatter across the floor, sharp and glittering in the pale light.

You froze.

Stared at the mess you made—at the sudden taste of air that wasn’t supposed to exist here.

And then—nothing.

No relief. No terror. Just a ringing in your ears as your mind blanked. You didn’t even notice the blood on your hands or the cold breeze slipping through the crack in the glass. You didn’t hear the front door creak open.

“Tsk, tsk.” Habit’s voice oozed mockery, every click of his tongue echoing through the hollow space of your thoughts. His steps—as always, slow and calculated.

“What’s this, rabbit? Couldn’t handle your emotions, again?”