"Eight years old."
"You look more like five or six."
"It's 'cause I was a preemie. My mom was on the run when she had me. Then we hightailed it abroad, that's when things got a bit safer. That's when the autism kicked in. What about you?"
"How'd you guess I've been through that?"
"I can tell. Sullivan, sometimes you get this far-off look in your eyes, like you're trapped in your own little bubble. But you're really something, you know. Just like your acting, you can switch it on and off so easily."
"If you make it to my age, you'll be able to do the same."
"I dunno. With Rebecca out for my blood, surviving to grow up is still up in the air."
"Don't you have a whole crew looking out for you? Isn't that enough?"
And yet she still felt so unsafe.
He knew what it was like to be that age and already understand the true depths of despair and utter loneliness.
Every kid with autism is either a savant, a genius, or a simpleton.
Apart from the simpletons, they're born with a sharper wit than most, more aware than their peers.
Otherwise, they wouldn't be so sensitive to retreat into themselves like that.
Average children wouldn't have a clue about shutting the world out, wouldn't even be able to do it if they tried.
Emily said they had that in common. He got it.
"But they've got their own lives. Sullivan, do you have someone you'd look after for a lifetime?"
"I do."
"That's a shame. I was kinda hoping you'd be the one to guard me! I've got this feeling, if you wanted to, you could keep me really safe."
Sullivan scoffed, "You're giving me too much credit."
"The person you protect, what are they like?"
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