Justine's smile was sad as she listened to Alice. She pulled the thin sticks out of her hair and let the long white fall of it down, letting the wind carry it out of her face. "It took a long time for him to let me help. Years. And even then I had to figure out how his mind works," she said, staring out into the night. "The fact that you got him here at all without having to resort to tying him to the back of the bike says a lot."

She fell silent, thinking, staring at her gloved hands. Thomas wouldn't like her talking about him like this, laying him open, but someone needed to take care of him. Someone who cared, and Alice was here, while the others weren't. Her words were soft but came easily, betraying the amount of time she'd thought about them. "He thinks he needs the pain, to remind him that he loves people. And maybe he does. Maybe that pain keeps him from becoming like his family."

Justine laughed a little, sad and quiet. "And he won't ever talk about it, about being in love. About caring for people. Because he thinks it's a weakness. It hurts him and has been used against him too many times. I hope you won't blame him for feeling that way."