Wapun Meadow bébé ils ne veulent pas de toi

merrick grinned wickedly. "they're all like me, in that they're a bit ... off." an island of misfit toys, and he their clown prince. "but yes. we're all seeking our way here. some heal. some fight. others listen to the spirits in the land. we share what we have, and we keep no secrets."
or so he assumed.
she would discover the second meaning of his words soon enough.
"give it time, phoebe," the boy murmured, his jaunty smirk fading to something more wan and matured, for a moment the glimpse of the many traumas that had stamped merrick suddenly visible upon his face. 
"you will hear it in your heart. and when you do, tell me."