Huntyr Mercer |CB| Wanderer -FIN-

I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready for this. The way they whisper, hushed voices like deep groans from beyond the grave, tugging at my soul, my heart. Thousands of gasping, screaming voices choked by the morning smoke drifting gently across a horizon marked with a blood red sky.

I used to live in Three.

I think I left ten years ago yesterday? Or maybe tomorrow? I left just before my sixteenth birthday. Not because things were bad, no, but because I had never seen the ocean. School textbooks sing magnificent sonnets of poetry, about the sweeping caress of the waves, of the spray in your face, of the scream of the gulls overhead.

Obsession.

My need bordered on obsession to see the damn thing spreading for vast miles on either side. I've seen none of it, but I swear I'm close. So close I can almost taste the bitter salt in my throat, feel the weight of the air on my chest forcing, pushing out the entirety of my existence.

I'm skinny now, far more so than I used to be. I was always on the bulkier side growing up, and my parent had money. We were on the richer side of our district, we never had to worry about what we ate. Mother worked in a factory as a supervisor while my father was an inventor. Ultimately, my brother pushed me over the edge. "Don't let your dreams be dreams" or something like that.