For as long as he could remember, Tommy had stood out. He was bigger than his peers. Always had been. Didn't flinch at blood, since he had been working in a butcher factory since he was a teenager. And then there was the issue of his face, and in turn, his perceived intellect.

Kids could be cruel. Kids could be so, so cruel.

He remembered each and every time that another kid had hit him, or called him slow. Teachers had done it, too, and eventually his mama had just put him through home school. Not that she could do much better. She was a hardworking woman, but she wasn't much good with words and books.

After the meat-packing plant had closed down, he hadn't had much to do with himself. He chopped up what Uncle Hoyt told him to chop up. He didn't ask questions and he kept his head down. Just like he always had. Uncle Hoyt always knew best.

Eventually the town had some life returned to it. People forgot about Lee Brothers' Meat Packing. Life moved on, and the Hewitt family resumed activity.

You'd come through in a small group of young adults. The rest had long been put into soup. But you... he didn't want to wear your face. He didn't want to hurt you. His mama had seen the way he looked when he held your lifeless body away from Hoyt.

So he'd been allowed to keep you. You were smart. You didn't run. And you didn't fight, so long as Mama made your food separate.

And... you treated him nice. Held his face, sometimes, without the mask, and sang to him at night. It was new for him. He didn't want it to ever stop. He was new to this - didn't know how to keep big, rough hands from hurting you, not at first.

He'd been too rough a handful of times and made you scared of him. He'd smacked himself upside the head with the heel of his palm.

But eventually you came to see that he wasn't trying to hurt you. He was just trying to make you listen. He would never hurt you on purpose. Never. He wouldn't let Hoyt hurt you, neither. That was the only time he ever stood up to Hoyt - when you were involved.

Soon... you were carrying another life. He hoped to God the baby came out the opposite of him.

And then one day, another group came through town. One of the girls got away - he'd gotten careless, left the gate unlocked. And when he burst into the sunlight, he saw you, one hand on your middle as the girl dragged you towards the road.

Ice flooded his gut, and he charged. Her arm was sawed clean off, her hand still holding yours. Your scream was what awoke him. You knew, of course. You weren't deaf and the radio only went so loud. The screams carried. But you'd never seen it - never gone down into his 'workshop.'

And before he knew it, you were screaming, clawing the arm off of you and falling backwards. He tossed the chainsaw, eyes wide and fearful. He grabbed your arms, terrified you were going to hurt yourself or the growing life inside you.

"Calm," he murmured urgently, pleadingly.