A Good Kid

She was a good kid. The statement was so common to her ears that it washed over as nothing but a well-known, worn out phrase to describe her. She was a good kid, she supposed. She attended class regularly, she listened well to her elders, never talked back, did her work, scored well, obeyed curfews… She did what she was supposed to. Never stray from the path, they said, or you’ll end up falling down a rabbit hole into a world you never thought or dreamt of.

They were right, she was a good kid and followed the rules… and then everything changed. She fell down the rabbit hole, all right. And what she found was a world that she couldn’t escape.

She should be getting home soon, she remembered. She sighed, her breath puffing into the cold early winter air. It was around the time where the exam pressure was beating down on poor university students like her, and she spent most of her hours cooped up in a small study carrel in the library, intensely taking notes and staring at her books hard until the words blurred and her hand was stiff from holding her pencil for so long. It was normal, and was expected at this time, she supposed. However, her college’s library only stayed open until two am, and resulted in her walking back to her apartment complex well into the dark hour.

She made her way along the cracked sidewalk, feeling comfortable under the street lamps that lit her path. This was normal for her; she’d done it before. No one was out at this point, which made her small five-minute night walk quiet, but she didn’t mind. As long as she made it back to her apartment, all was well and she could slip into her bed without disturbing her roommates.

She should’ve kept walking. It wasn’t her business; she couldn’t have done anything anyways… Then she’d still be back in her college, suffering through exams, information heavy lectures, and living her normal, undisruptive life. But life sometimes has a funny way of disturbing your idea of life without you even noticing.

Thump.

It was a solid sound; happening right as she stepped in front of one of the alleyways she passed before reaching the complex’s gate. She would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already known she didn’t step that hard. She paused, the dim light of the streetlamp above her illuminating her figure and a bit into the alleyway.

She should’ve kept walking. She didn’t know what was going on, and the probability that it wasn’t anyone she knew in the alleyway was relatively high. She took another step forward, mind half made up to keep walking.

Thump. Again, only this time it was followed by a pathetic, quiet, “H-help…” that she would’ve missed once again if she had earphones in. But she preferred the noises of the night to a heavy bass ringing in her ears on her walks home. She paused once more, this time actually looking into the alleyway.

There was a vague outline of a person near the wall of the area, if she squinted. They were alone… Her face twisted into a torn expression.

It wasn’t any of her business… But she shouldn’t leave them there hurt and alone. If the person died and appeared on the news, then police would look into the death and might find surveillance tapes and come question her. That was more trouble than helping them to the emergency center.

“Is anyone there?” It was a dumb question, she knew someone was there, but if they didn’t respond, then that meant they didn’t want to be found and she could continue on her way regardless without a guilty conscience.

“H-here…” Was the same pathetic voice, and she breathed out, watching her breath dissipate before heading towards the alleyway’s opening. While the streetlamp’s light helped from a distance when standing at the mouth of it, she couldn’t see a single thing past that, barely making out the slumped outline of a boy against the wall. She pulled out her phone, using the flashlight tool to illuminate the darkness.

She in a breath through her teeth when her phone’s light landed on the person calling for help. It was a young boy, younger than she was expecting, a mop of roughed up black hair blending into the surrounding darkness, falling over his forehead and into his face, dressed in ratty, torn up and… was that blood on his clothes? She swallowed at the thought, observing the way in which he was hunched over, obviously in pain and gripping his side tightly. What exactly happened to him?

She pushed the thought aside, the main priority was to get the boy out of the dirty alleyway and then go from there. She approached the male, bending down to his slumped level, trying to inspect the damage. He blinked up at her, hissing at the sudden light shined on him. She lowered it enough so it wouldn’t hurt to look at her, but she could still get a clear view of his face.

A black eye with a scratched up and swelling right cheek, split bottom lip, and drying blood from his nose. He had definitely been in a fight. She tentatively reached out a hand to see his side, and he immediately withdrew from her touch, eyes wide and gripping his side even tighter. He was terrified.

“I’m going to help you.” She said quietly, trying to assure him that she was of no threat to him. His wide eyes met hers, and she managed a small smile. “I need to get you out of this alleyway, you can’t stay here.” She reasoned, and while he was distracted listening to her words, she had placed her phone on a box with the light facing up so she could still see, her hands now free so she could help him stand.

He still flinched as her hands rose towards him. She sighed, it was to be expected, he had just been beat up, after all. He might have gotten a concussion and be confusing her with his assailant. “Hey hey, it’s okay. I need you to trust me. I will not hurt you.” She said in the best soothing voice she could manage. He looked long and hard at her, never breaking her gaze, searching for something, anything to give him reason to doubt her words. She kept her gaze just as steady, wanting to make it clear her intentions were not harmful.

He sighed, and she took that as a sign of agreement and consent as she reached out for him again, prying him off the wall as gently as she could. The pained groan that came from him made her wince, but she continued.

“Is it okay if I put my arms around you to carry you?” She asked once getting him into an upright position. A small nod came from him and she sighed.

“Please be verbal. I need you to tell me what I can and can not do.” She insisted.

It took a few minutes, but it felt like hours and she was scared that he had fallen unconscious. “It’s okay… to touch me. It just hurts.” He mumbled, head hanging low.

“Doesn’t surprise me with the visible damage. You’ve got to bear with it a little longer though, I’m sorry.” She apologized, before trying to find a place along his midsection where he wasn’t bruised to adjust and get him off the ground. He hissed and moaned in a few places, and she muttered soft apologies to make up for the excess pain she was causing.

Finally finding a place to grip without causing too much pain, she smiled at him once more. “Okay, I need you to work with me for a little, try and push yourself up. I’ve got you, you won’t fall.” She said, and when the boy nodded once more the first attempt was made to get him standing.

It ended with her nails digging into his skin (she felt bad, she had had them done recently and they were a bit long and probably left crescent shaped marks into his already purple and blue skin) and a now busted up knee on her end. She drew in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the pain. What kind of help would she be if she gave up because of a hurt knee? She swallowed back the pain burning in , focusing back on the groaning boy in her arms.

“Sorry.” She offered once more, earning a snort from the boy. She looked at him.

“You apologize a lot.” He pointed out, shaking his head.

She huffed quietly. “Do you want my help or not?” A hurried nod and a small utterance of ‘sorry’ was heard, and she shook her head. If the situation were different, she might have made a remark along the lines of “who’s apologizing now” and . But it was late, and the hours of studying and trying to lug up a boy who was at least 58 kg was hurting her own fragile and very much out of shape body. It didn’t help that he could barely stand on his own too.

“Once more, okay? We can do it.” She encouraged softly, counting to three before trying once more. The attempt as more successful, ending up with her leaning against the opposite alleyway wall with him leaning heavily against her, breathing hard.

“Okay… okay.” She nodded, trying to think through the rest of the poorly constructed plan in her head, “Do you think you can walk with my help?”

“Y...yeah.” He managed out, his head hanging on her shoulder.

She managed to upright them both in the alleyway, shuffling off towards the sidewalk and streetlamp’s light. It took a while, and the boy’s knees gave out every so often, almost making her collapse under his dead weight, but he quickly righted himself with her help and they trudged on. It felt like hours from when she first entered the shady back way, so the illuminated streetlamp, however dim, was a small relief to her as they approached the sidewalk.

“Now let’s get you to the emergency clinic—“

“No!” He interrupted her, shaking his head against her neck. She paused, craning her neck to look at him as best she could.

“No?”

“N-no. I can’t – Please don’t.” He pleaded, his breath hot and wet and she was feeling really uncomfortable with the amount of moisture gathering on her neck and with just how much he was pleading for her not to take him to an emergency clinic.

She looked around, not surprised to find no one else around the abandoned streets in the early morning hours but a little disappointed. She was at a loss of what to do. “What do you want me to do then?”

At that, his pleads fell silent. She shuffled her feet, her knees beginning to go numb from holding him up. She could just drop him and leave – no, after all of this effort she was going to at least make sure the kid was safe.

She sighed. “I’ll take you back to my apartment and clean you up. But if I find reason to take you to the clinic, no complaining. I won’t have someone die in my home.” It was a rather morbid attempt at humor, she knew, but feeling the male smile a bit against her neck assured her that it wasn’t unappreciated.

A lot of stumbling and a couple of stops for him to throw up a mixture of bile and blood (to which she did not like the look of, but he insisted that it wasn’t internal bleeding… she didn’t believe him, but she’d ignore it in favor of moving again and not falling over trying to keep both of their balances) and an interesting tango to get her key card and keys out of her jacket pocket to get into the complex, they finally were leaning against the wall next to her apartment door. She had never been more grateful of being on the first floor of the complex than at that very moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she looked at the door, keys loosely clutched in her hand and hot, heavy breathing from the boy next to her.

“Ready?” She whispered, dangling the keys in front of her. The boy, even with sweat matting his hair against his forehead, gave a small grin and nodded, almost immediately grimacing when she moved forward and he had no choice but to follow with their arms still being intertwined.

“Remember to keep quiet. I can’t have my roommates waking up and finding me sneaking in a boy.” She chided, her volume low and blinking as they entered the apartment, the only light welcoming them was the low light nightlight they had in the living room to comfort their youngest roommate who was still afraid of walking in the dark at night.

“Been caught before?” He mumbled, seemingly disgruntled but amused. If she were a little meaner she’d elbow the boy for his slight at her.

She settled for rolling her eyes and tumbling into her bathroom, turning on the light and locking the door behind them. “None of your business.” She bent down to open the lower cabinet, taking out the first aide kit that was always needed with her roommates’ stunts, including an incident with a stolen grocery cart and a late night fast food drive thru. The boy had settled himself on the edge of the bathtub, peering at the kit in interest.

Holding a pad doused in disinfectant, she turned to him, and blinked a couple of times. In the bright lights of her bathroom, she could fully take in the boy’s features…

And he really was young. He had round features all around, from his eyes to the shape of his face, and his hair falling into his face only added to his youthful appearance. His hoodie was disheveled and hung off a shoulder, his oversized white t-shirt stained with dirt and blood. She swallowed the burning in once more, trying to ignore how her stomach churned at the sight and now smell of blood that flooded her senses. He peered up at her with wide eyes, eyeing the pad with distaste.

She edged towards him, “This will help. Trust me.” He scooted further away; obviously not trusting whatever was in her hand. She sighed, following him to the other end of the tub. “You can’t keep scooting, the bathtub’s only so big.”

As he tried to make a face in protest, his busted lip started to bleed again, and she rushed forward to press the towel against the reopened wound. “That had to hurt…” She grimaced, seeing the pain flicker in his eyes. A small whine left confirmed her suspicions.

“Hold that.” She instructed, before leaving him to retrieve another swab to clean up his other facial injuries, bringing the bottle with her.

She motioned him to lean forward, and he mumbled against the cloth on his mouth as he did so.

“Hm?” She hummed in curiosity, but held the boy’s face firm as she started to look at the extent of the damage on his face. The one on his cheek would most likely scar, she could patch it up for overnight but he’d definitely have to see a professional about getting it sewn up. It wouldn’t heal right otherwise.

“Is it going to hurt as much as my mouth does?” He managed to get out, and she had to bite back a laugh. For someone who looked like he had just taken on five guys, he sure acted like a child.

“A bit, after all it’s supposed to help heal, and healing’s not always a painless process.” She shrugged, dabbing his cheek and tightening her hold on his face when he squirmed, more soft whining coming from him.

She shook her head, “It’s not going to go faster with you squirming like that. I know it hurts… Just try and stay as still as possible, this’ll be the worst on your face.”

He looked up at her, “Promise?”

She simply nodded, softening her hold and going back to dabbing the solution on his cuts, taking care around the black eye. It was starting to turn an ugly dark purple; it wasn’t going to heal anytime soon. Once everything was cleaned, she let go of his face and began shuffling for gauze and medical tape to fix up his cheek.

“What’s this?”

She turned to see him eyeing the disinfectant bottle curiously. Her brow furrowed. “Can’t you read? It’s disinfectant.”

He got quiet, head bowing and lowering the bottle so it rested on his knees. “…No.”

It took a moment for her to understand the ‘no’, but when she did, she felt awful. 'Oh.' Was all she could think, words weren’t escaping her. She went through the rest of the treatment silently, guilt sinking in as he kept his gaze fixed on the bottle. She didn’t know, how could she had known… She sighed through her nose as she finishing taping the gauze to his cheek, looking at her handiwork. Now for the more delicate part.

“Shirt up, boy.” She instructed, almost taking amusement in how his face went from processing the statement to a bright red.

“W-w-why??” He stuttered, fingers already clutching the threadbare ends of the shirt, tugging it down lower to cover himself up more.

“I have to check those ribs of yours, to see if they’re broken, fractured, or bruised.” She said, motioning for him to lift his shirt. Truthfully, she was in no way qualified to tell the difference between the three, but between her hospital soap operas and that one Anatomy class as her science credit, she should at least be able to make sure nothing’s broken.

The boy was almost shy as he lifted his shirt up, showcasing a rather thin torso that gave her an almost maternal urge to feed him. But she shook that off, taking the ugly bruises on his side as a top priority. As she bent to get a closer look, he stiffened a bit.

“Calm down, I’m going to apply pressure, okay?” She assured him, explaining what she was going to do to his body. “If it hurts, don’t scream or thrash around, just rate your pain from 1 – 10. 1 for I’m fine, 10 for I’m holding back the screams kind of pain, okay?” She looked at him for affirmation. He nodded shyly, not making eye contact with her.

Starting from the lighter bruises, she gently pressed down. “2 because of your nails.” He quipped, and she rolled her eyes, continuing onto the darker areas towards his ribs.

“4…”

“A-a-7.” He gritted out, clenching his teeth. She nodded, removing her hands and letting him put his shirt down. From what she could decipher, there was just really bad bruising and possibly a fracture on his right side. But he was still able to speak.

Well, she wasn’t a medical expert, but he should hold overnight. Speaking of which…

“Where are you staying tonight?” She asked, working on cleaning up her own knee as she put things back into the first aid kit. He shuffled awkwardly, still holding the bottle of disinfectant.

She turned to him, bending down to gently pry the bottle from his hands. “Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

A small nod came from her patient, and she bit her lip. Her roommates would kill her if they found him for sure, but what was she going to do? He couldn’t very well just get up and leave if the struggle to get through her door was any indication of his current walking ability.

She could’ve told him to go. She could’ve called a cab and told him to go wherever he wanted.

“You can stay here, come on.” She tugged gently at his hoodie’s sleeve, hoping to get a reaction, a confirmation of some sort. Their eyes met again and she just couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. He just looked… so young. She pushed those thoughts aside; the affects of half dragging him over the apartment on top of a long study day starting to wear down on her. So with another tight grip on his waist, they stumbled into her cramped room, tripping over discarded clothes and their shoes crumpling papers strewn across the room.

She wasn’t known for her cleanliness, after all. Unlike her roommate, her bed wasn’t lofted, so the boy flopped down onto the mattress, and if she had been listening a bit closer she would’ve heard the small giggling noises he made as he curled up, ignoring the throbbing and protests his bruised and battered body made. It looked like he hadn’t slept on a real mattress in a while. Realizing that wearing her boots to bed wouldn’t be the best idea, she stooped to unlace and remove them, wiggling her socked toes after putting them next to the door.

A soft snore alerted to her that the boy wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon. She shook her head, finding the sprawled out figure of the young man almost endearing. As she approached the bed, she found that he hadn’t even taken his own boots off. They were ratty and mud spattered, the laces coming undone. She sighed, something that had become a bit of a habit around the boy, bending down to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t scuff or stain the bed sheets or wall that the bed was pushed against.

As young as the boy looked, he had taken up a majority of the bed, and she just wasn’t all that comfortable with sharing the bed with a complete stranger, no matter how harmless he could be in this state. She silently thanked that even though it was an infuriating process to bring in and build, her roommate convinced her that getting a futon for their room would be a good idea. She could sacrifice her bed for one night, she thought; wrapping one of the blankets around her and curling up, sleep overtaking her rather quickly. She could deal with the aftermath of her decisions the next morning. For now, she would try to get as much sleep as she could after a long day.