His words are tender as he explains his situation in a way no-one had before, Alexander going from villain to somewhat sympathisable, but not quite.

I stare at him, my eyes burning up, willing to scorch the earth he stands on, but he has the trump card, my mother, and so I can’t, I stay with my head bowed as he explains again, gentle, as though his past is my present, but then again, as though his past were worse.