Mercer Thorson’s childhood was not pleasant. It wasn’t “happy”. It wasn't “cool”. What it was, was different.
Mercer didn’t have time for fun. In fact, that's the only funny, ironic
thing about his life. It wasn't even ha-ha funny. It was “wow, that
sucks” funny. The fact that, even now, when time was a pointless, trivial
thing to him, he had never had time for fun. He hadn't had a Father,
his Mother was schizophrenic. He was holding the house up, but his
strength was dwindling.
When
Mercer was four, his mother had been brutally murdered. He had been
walking home from school when the screams started. He ran home as fast
as he could, and saw his house in flames. Through a window, he saw a
dark figure alighting through the main bedroom. He was taken to social cervices, where he bounced around from Foster parent to Foster parent.
One day, somebody took Mercer from his current Foster family. He woke
up in a pitch black cave. He lived in that cave for years, a voice
telling him how to survive. His eyes were pointless, so he just bandaged
them and forgot about them. Every day, the voice trained him. How to
survive, how to hunt in the darkness. How to use the darkness, to live
with it, how to fight with it.
After years and years of darkness, he walked outside, and saw nothing.
His time with the shadow voice had changed him. He was blind, but in a
way he saw more than other people. He could feel the darkness. It was
inside him. It was him. He was darkness.
Mercer was a different person. He never had any fun, but as his life
shows, he was vary different. He was blind, he was in orphan, and he
lived in a cave. How much more different can you get!