A 25 year old Merritt McKinney sighed as he walked through Central Park. It was an iffy day for the mentalist. His brother – his jackass brother – had run off with all his money. His entire life had been stolen from him in just one day. He had left a note though. I'm not sorry. So yes... not a good day for Merritt McKinney.

He knew he had nothing left and he knew that his glory days were over. He knew that he had no more TV specials, no more tours, and no more home. So he took a few moments of tranquillity before the shit storm hit.

He wandered Central Park, scanning the crowds and using his talent. Mentalism. Not a proven science, but it sure as hell was magic. With one glance, Merritt got at least a basic glance at a person's life. Widowed doctor. Getting a divorce. Mother of four. Grieving husband. Twins, no... triplets. He could read a person just with one glance. He loved his gift, his gift he'd had from a young age. A talent that he and his brother saw as an opportunity. But his gift had its downsides. He saw a glance... and then he wanted more, but then he didn't always like what he found.

Like now for instance.

He was walking by the Lionel Shrike tree but didn't spare it a glance. He'd seen it before, though he did smile a small smile when he passed under its branches. He went to keep walking as he passed under the tree, or at least he would've if someone in the corner of his eye hadn't caught his attention.

The boy was 8, no, 9 years old. His brown hair was dirty and matted, hanging limp on his head. The jagged edges would suggest that the boy had cut it himself. He sat with his knees curled up to his chest, his arms hanging limply by his sides and he had a small backpack on the ground next to him.

Merritt stopped in front of him, but the boy didn't notice. His bruised and injury filled face with lifeless brown eyes was simply staring ahead, not paying any attention to his surroundings. In turn, no one paid any attention to him. Merritt could see the boy was glad of that as he glanced and got a basic reading.

Tired. Un-healthy. Under fed. Catatonic. One abusive parent. That much was obvious.

"Mother or father?" His voice was quiet and had the boy's eyes slowly gaining a glimmer of life as they slowly looked to the man in front of him.

The flinch was barely imperceptible, but it was there. "Ok so father." Merritt wished he could take his need for knowledge and suffocate it, but he just couldn't.

"Mother. Divorced, working, missing, dead, abandoned-" He flinched

"You never knew your mother." The boy's eyes were filled with sadness as he simply looked at the man who was reading his life.

"So you're a 9 year-old boy with no mother and an abusive father," Merritt shook his head. "Jacob? James? Jake? Jack...Jack?"

The boy gave a small nod and Merritt sighed.

"I feel sorry for you kid." The statement had a frown on the boy's face.

"Why?" The choked whisper was quiet and Merritt barely heard it. The boy's voice was young as he was forced to grow up so fast; he really hadn't grown up at all.

"Because no one deserves this," Merritt explained but before he could say anything else there was a shout from across the park.

"BOY!" Merritt stepped back and looked at the man who was storming his way through the crowd to the kid. He quickly analyzed him. Drunkard. Mean. Unclean. Hates kids.

"Where have you been?!" The man staggered towards the boy, drunk as anything, "What the FUCK are you doing here?!"

"I-I-I," the boy sputtered as he was picked up by the collar of his shirt. How thin he was became painfully obvious to Merritt.

"I told you to wait for me over there!" he hissed at the cowering boy. He then grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him closer to him. Merritt watched on silently, looking between the kid and the man.

"We are NOT done talking about this," he hissed, taking note of his surroundings. "We will continue at home!"

Jack nodded vigorously, trying not to upset the man who was currently cutting off the circulation in his arm. His father let go of his arm with disgust and spun around and stormed off, clearly expecting the boy to follow him.

Jack followed but not before looking up at Merritt and issuing a quick goodbye.

Merritt's eyes followed the kid. He knew what happened when an abusive parent came into the picture. The kid would either commit suicide or run away. Jack was going to be killed on the streets. Absolutely killed.

But then he saw the kid reach into the pocket of a nearby bystander and pull out a wallet, quickly slipping it into his own bag. Neither the man nor his father noticed this quick exchange.

Merritt smiled as he walked away. The kid was gonna be just fine.