She was shy, but like most kids at that age she tried to gravitate toward someone of her age-group. Daxton back then, however, was an aloof boy, a real loner who didn’t seem comfortable with anyone. At the time, Quincey never realized that he was going through something very similar to her own situation. To her, he was just there, and that meant she was supposed to be there with him… plus he was strange. Quincey couldn’t help but be curious about the boy.
She’d never met someone who didn’t have eyes before, and Daxton seemed distressed by it. She didn’t understand as a kid how Daxton’s STOP allowed him to see, and she definitely didn’t understand why sometimes Daxton’s fathers would take the STOP away from him for a while and try to acclimate him to life without sight. Whenever they did though, Quincey watched the worst of Daxton emerge from that quiet canine shell of a boy. He became helpless and scared, even when his parents were right there with him trying to ease him into simply walking or crawling around without being able to see.
Quincey felt so sad watching that. The memory of her sadness was crystal clear, unlike most things from her childhood. She hated watching Daxton struggle and she wanted so badly to help him, but she couldn’t budge from her spot on the sidelines; she was too scared to. Eventually she turned five, barely getting to know Daxton in the almost two years she lived with his family. She’d grown to like Edward and Eddie, but Daxton maintained a role as a grumpy brother who wanted nothing to do with any of them. There was just one thing that changed all that…
