profile on DR. AMELIA MERCER, THE BUTCHER
age. 38 \ pronouns. she/her \ fc. jenna coleman \ career. doctor at family medical
001 . An estrangement between siblings is by no means uncommon, so as a young child Amelia thought nothing of her mother screaming at her strange, unkempt uncle. They visited him in a small town in Indiana with a name that a five year old would giggle at - Bone Gap. It sounded like something from her storybooks, where a villain may have hailed from, but in reality, it was a rundown spot in the middle of nowhere.Ā Ameliaās nose scrunched up, hand grasped tightly in her motherās, as they walked up onto the porch of what could only be described as a dilapidated shack. The three corpses of rusted cars picked clean of parts sat abandoned in the yard; trash cans were overflowing and newspapers lay uncollected; the wood of the porch groaned beneath their feet, warning them of rot. Amelia couldnāt understand at all why theyād come all the way here from Baltimore. She wanted to be tucked into her canopy bed with her stuffed animals strewn around her and a storybook in her lap. Instead, she hid herself behind her mother when the door creaked open. An unfamiliar face peered through a small crack, a chain preventing it from opening all the way. It shut again, then opened fully to reveal a man who may have looked like her mother once, but the resemblance had long since faded. Her mother was always poised, with expensive well-pressed clothing and hair smoothed into some sort of elaborate style. This man had dirt stains and holes in his t-shirt, a beard that grew in all different directions, and a distance in his eyes that Amelia would never see in anyone else. ā This is the final straw. ā Her mother made no attempt to keep her voice down as she argued with her brother. Amelia sat on the rotting porch, drawing in the dirt with a stick, while she listened idly. ā Iām telling you Monica, stop worrying about me and stop nagginā me. This is where Iām meant to be! ā There was so much conviction in his words, but Amelia couldnāt understand why he had such a grip on such a tragic place. Eventually, the yelling stopped and her mother emerged in a rage sheād never seen before. They left, and Amelia never even learned her uncleās name.Ā
002 . Study harder. Work harder. Be better than you are. No matter how many awards she won or tests she aced, her parents always wanted more from her. They wanted to brag about their successful child, and they wanted her to be beyond comparison. Mistakes were punished harshly and victories were dismissed. How else was one supposed to treat themself, if that is how they were treated?Ā
003 . At Johns Hopkins, she was no longer top of the class. There was a field of others who were just as intelligent and just as talented. It festered jealousy within her, and a resentment that she could not contain. Her greatest competition was diagnosed with ALS in their final year. Part of her felt relieved that, finally, she could be the best once again. But witnessing his downfall, a spiral into an incurable illness, brought out compassion that had been foreign to her until then. They grew close, and he encouraged her work. She foolishly told him that he wouldnāt die. He did.Ā
004 . Doctor Amelia Mercer. An award-winning brain surgeon researching a cure for ALS. Are they proud now? Is anyone proud now? Is anyone watching, does anyone care?Ā
005 . There was comfort in opulence. Gucci shoes and Dior suits; Le Labo perfume and $600 hair appointments. She would go on vacation to expensive resorts and pay for friends to come along. ( But were they friends, or simply a paid company? Would they hold her through tears, or wait for her credit card to make an appearance? ) More than one luxury vehicle was totaled, of no consequence to her bank account. The dealership expected a purchase annually. Her townhome was large and empty and lonely, but the art on the walls cost thousands per canvas. Was this the future her parents pushed for?Ā
006 . There are no mistakes in the medical field. Especially not while someoneās skin is splayed open, revealing the center for their thoughts, their motions, their soul. There was liquor on her breath that day, but no one dared say a word. It was a known habit of hers - one drink too many with no regard for the time of day. No one dared challenge her on it, though. It hadnāt been a problem thus far, so the scrub nurse kept her mouth shut that day as she slipped gloves onto Ameliaās waiting hands. [ REDACTED ]
007 . When did alcohol become such a problem? Was it watching her father with his bourbon? Her mother with her wine? Or back further, with her nameless uncle reeking of beer? It coursed through Ameliaās veins in the most pleasant way, silencing all the anxiety that she refused to acknowledge. She told herself that she worked better buzzed, too. One drink before surgery steadied her hands, but three led to the death of a patient. It was alcohol, with its sweet relief, that allowed her to temper her tantrums of guilt and depression following the death. Episodes that no one would ever know about. A crack in a delicate mask, repaired at the door and fastened tightly in public.
008 . Doctor Amelia Mercer mysteriously left her position and research behind, in a shocking turn of events no one saw coming. Her career was her entire life; why would she suddenly disappear? The answer was quite simple - she wasnāt given a choice. Officially, she did not [ REDACTED ], but the board knew differently. She was a liability and had been for a while now. This was their excuse to get rid of their shining star, who was dying out rapidly before their eyes.Ā
009 . Where could she go? Where would no one know her name? [ REDACTED ]
Ā Bone Gap, Indiana. A name left in the far reaches of her memory, symbolized by a hoarderās lawn and a screaming match between siblings. Maybe she should run there - a place loathed by her mother, but cherished by her uncle. Her life had been haunted by that nameless man. Fueled by curiosity and fear, Amelia left her mistakes behind for the bare necessities of the midwest.Ā
010. The townsfolk werenāt used to the same luxuries that were common in her circles in Baltimore. People often stopped to take pictures of her Porsche or commented on her perfume. At first, people would offer to have her over for dinner. How lonely did she look to them? But the offers petered out as no, thank you became the expected answer. They were kind, yet irritating. This wasnāt true kindness, not that sheād known much of that herself. These were saccharin, cloying niceties that seldom felt genuine. Bless your heart, theyād say, but sheād lost hers long ago.Ā
















