"I don't think they knew I'd be a gunslinger, they just gave me away. I had two options, an orphanage or slinging. At least they had enough brains to know where I'd do better, at the sacrifice of their spines. All I knew about them was that they were pathetic, worthless junkies. Burning out their ambitions and aspirations just to get a cheap high off the residue. They fucked one another stupid until one day I came along."<br/><br/>Terrence was looking off into the other direction as he spoke of it. They weren't pleasent memories to revisit but he liked to think he didn't carry on any of that angst, though there was always anguish, buried underneath layers and layers of falseness.<br/><br/>"The other kids saw their parents every seasonal break. But not me. I got the fascinating task of staying back at the camp and cleaning the barracks, cooking the meals and marveling at what is and what isn't."<br/><br/>Despite the contempt he felt towards his early stages of life, Terrence understood all too well that the abyss in his life and the neglected, unsheltered life of which he had become accustomed to was what made his such an ambitious student and then an accomplished Gunslinger. Like a mercenary taking sides, he fought the small dangerous wars, and he lived to never breathe a word to another soul, alive or dead.