Eddie pressed his lips together and set Ivan’s latest drawing in front of Alessia.

“Dark, twisted, suffocating… That’s a lot of negativity for a seven–year–old. You must be a little unnerved too, right?” Alessia just glanced at the picture.

She’d seen Ivan’s artwork before–she knew it all too well.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? He’s not like most kids on the spectrum.”

“What do you think?” Instead of answering Eddie’s question, Alessia tossed out her

own.

“If

you ask me, it’s less autism and more like… he’s been through something–some kind of abuse, maybe? He’s on guard, always, but at least he’s willing to leave the house. He talks to people, so he can’t be doing too badly.”

Eddie propped his chin on his hand, long lashes casting shadows under his eyes as he pondered.

“But if, as you say, he barely sees anyone outside and his family is so protective…

he have been

Exactly–where?

she refused to say anything aloud, no

Eddie shot her a

turned to Ivan. He’d finished eating and,

time to time? It’s not healthy for a kid to be cooped up in his room

anyway, but

himself in would only shrink his world smaller and smaller, and that won’t

bleak, sure, but I actually like the style. If only I could get a little closer to him.” She thought of how she’d once needed saving herself–and now wanted

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as distant with you as you fear.” Alessia’s gaze lingered on Ivan for a moment before drifting away, her words hinting

encouragement.

and walked over to

together, Ivan no longer shied away from him, though he didn’t exactly acknowledge him either. He just stared at the spines of

adult’s patience is tested–Ivan was quiet, gentle, even when sick, never

up for grabs, you

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