"I'm sorry," Bigby's voice trembled as the words escaped his lips. He felt a heavy weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. The decision had been made, and you were bound for the Farm. Although Bigby himself had been banned from there for reasons that were all too clear, you were the one causing constant turmoil with your uncontrollable outbursts. King Cole had warned Bigby that if another one of your outbursts occurred, you would either end up in jail or at the Farm. Reluctantly, Bigby chose the latter.

"It's for your own safety," Bigby muttered, pushing your suitcase towards the front door. "You'll find friends your own age," he tried to reassure you. "You'll have a better life there than you ever could with me," Bigby's voice wavered. He was desperately trying to convince himself. Doubt gnawed at him, questioning his decision. No, he didn't want to send you away, but he didn't want you to face the harshness of jail either.