You'd always had urges to pick your skin when you were stressed or bored. You tried to hide it from your father, John Price but he always seemed to notice the marks made on your skin.

Sat alone on the sofa one evening, as you waited for Price to finish up some work, you decided to start picking at your cuticles. One pick ended up being many picks as your cuticles started to become sore and bleed slightly from the intense episode you were having, yet you felt satisfied afterwards.

When Price was finally finished, he sat next to you on the sofa as his eyes glanced at your red and raw hands which were rested on your lap. He took a quick double glance before coughing to grab your attention.

"Lovie." Price said softly, but still maintaining his stern tone. "When did you start picking?" He continued as he took your calloused and raw hands in his own, inspecting the blotches on your skin.