Good Boys

18. Good Boys

You felt like it was time to talk to the victim. River was the only one who could tell you what was happening. It was an invasion of privacy to just try and find out without his consent. You weren't going to do anything he didn't want you to do.

River was only meters away from you. You grabbed his wrist lightly, and he flinched. The theory you had was right – someone was hurting him. He followed you willingly like it was natural to just be whisked off into a random room.

"Please, just...make this quick."

River had his eyes closed, not opening them once. There was a single tear running down his cheeks, and you wiped it away. He finally opened his eyelids and saw you. Shock flashed onto his face.

He stutters, "I – I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry. I'll be, uh, going now – "

You put a finger on his soft lips, still shocked that he talked to you. There was obviously something wrong. "River, who's hurting you?"

His eyes looked around the room frantically. "N – no one. Who told you that?"

"Why did you stop talking? River, I want to help you. Don't be afraid to tell me because either way I'm going to find out," you said truthfully. But then added, "I can read people. It's a specialty I have," when you saw the fear on his face.

River remembered hearing that about you, and was glad that you weren't in any of his other classes to find out. So, how did you figure it out? He didn't recall looking at her. Except for...

Shit.

"You won't believe me if I told you," he whispered. "No one would."

You rolled his eyes. "I'll always believe you, River. You're, like, the smartest and most athletic guy I know. And, you're a good boy. You're someone I can trust."

"Please – don't call me that."

"What?"

"A good boy."

"Why?"

"Because Ms. King always calls me that during and after she raped me."