It had been three weeks since Stick left, and Matt felt like he had lost the closest thing to a father he was ever going to have. He remembered the overwhelming feeling of loneliness and sadness that came with his father's death, made even worse by his heightened senses causing him intense agony.
Once Stick came in, he taught him how to control and use his abilities to his advantage, effectively helping him overcome his blindness. In fact, Matt's senses became so attuned that it was almost like he could see again. His senses of smell, taste, touch, and hearing helped to create a "visual" image of the world around him, the only downside being that it looked like it was on fire.
But now, Stick was gone, driven away by Matt showing affection towards his mentor. Sometimes he would mentally curse himself for attempting to give Stick that bracelet, because he knew that a hard-ass like him would have never accepted something soft like that. It was clear that all he wanted was a soldier for this "war" he kept rambling on about, but never got around to explaining. Matt only wanted a father, someone who would care for him and look out for him when times were tough.
Now, instead of intense sadness, Matt merely felt intense anger at himself and Stick, and also came to the realization that he was completely alone, now more than ever.
When he returned to St. Agnes, things continued as they normally would, albeit easier because now he could control his senses. Still, while at the orphanage, he remained alone, not even attempting to start friendships with anybody because no one wanted to hang out with the blind kid. He remained alone, either in his room engaged in his studies or sitting on the bench in silence during recess. Some of the nuns came and tried to offer Matt support and kindness, but it just wasn't enough to overcome his deep-rooted feeling of isolation.
One day, school had let out for recess sometime around noon, and while the other kids played kickball or tag, Matt sat alone on the swings, moving his fingers across the braille text of his book. It was a book on Thurgood Marshall, whom he had come to idolize for his belief in the justice system, and how every citizen deserved the same treatment when it came to a court of law.
"In recognizing the humanity of our fellow beings, we pay ourselves the highest tribute."
Suddenly, Matt tasted salt in the air, and a certain moisture accompanied it. Concerned, he tried pinpointing the location using his hearing, and he heard the barely audible sounds of someone sobbing on the other end of the playground. From what he could tell (no, knew), the cries were coming from a girl, one who seemed unfamiliar to him. Perhaps she was new here, and that's why she was crying.
Detecting the surrounding area, Matt noticed that no one was trying to comfort her, not even the nuns. She just sat there on the ground, her head buried in her arms. How anyone could sit idle while someone was distressed was beyond him. It just wasn't right.
Matt then closed his book, picked up his cane, and began walking over towards the girl. When he was about two feet away from her, he opened his mouth and asked, "Are you okay?"
Head still buried in her arms, the girl bitterly asked, "Do I look like I'm okay?"
"Uh-" Matt said as the words registered in his mind, "Well, the thing is, uh, well, I can't actually see you."
"What do you-" she began, but as she looked up, she saw Matt's cane and blood-red glasses.
"Oh, I'm so, so sorry! I- I didn't notice!" the girl said, color rushing to her cheeks and her heart rate increasing.
"It's fine, really. Don't apologize, it's okay," Matt reassured her, and the girl stood up, wiping the tears off her face.
"So," Matt began, "Are you alright? Because I heard you crying and thought that I could help."
"No, I'm fine," the girl said, sniffling. She then faced towards Matt, and said, "I don't think I know you. What's your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Matt Murdock," he said, extending his hand out to shake.
The girl then hesitantly shook Matt's hand, and then said "Mary Sue Poots. I know, don't laugh."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Matt replied.
"Why? Pretty much everyone else makes fun of it already. Heck, I hate it," Mary Sue scoffed.
"Isn't that the name your parents gave you?" Matt asked.
"No, the orphanage gave me that name. I don't even know who my real parents were," Mary Sue said bluntly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Matt said.
"That's okay, because I don't either," she said, sniffling again, "All I know is that I have this stupid name and I keep having to go from foster home to foster home, never staying in one place for too long because all the families hate me."
"That can't be true, can it?" Matt asked.
"It is," Mary Sue said. "I just got back from this one family, the Brodys, who I hoped would really like me, but then they just send me back here like I'm nothing." She then began crying again.
"I'm so sorry, Mary Sue," Matt said.
"Please, don't apologize, and just call me Mary," she said. Once she regained composure of herself, she said, "Anyway, enough about me, what's your story?"
"Well, when I was nine, I was blinded in a car accident, and a few months later my dad was shot," Matt stated matter-of-factly, "Now I'm here."
Mary's eyes widened at this news, and she said "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."
"Eh, it's fine, I'm over it. The blind part, anyway," he said, giving a sheepish smirk, "But what I found out is that it's best to just move past the bad points in our lives and appreciate the good ones."
"That seems to be a nice outlook on life," Mary said.
Matt then took careful notice as to how, beneath her crying and upset, her voice was soft and genuine, almost like something out of a dream. There was innocence to that voice, in addition to youth, so she must've been around one or two years younger than him. Something about her just seemed so pure that Matt could barely think about much else in that moment, and it was just an odd feeling that overtook him.
"Come on, do you want to go on the swings together? So that you don't have to be alone?" Matt offered.
"Sure," Mary said, going to join him.