#kid steve

Steve’s face flushed a further shade of red and he quickly averted his eyes from the other boy to the forest floor. Steve could feel the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was just the embarrassment of the situation or the fact that he’d stupidly allowed himself to hope that there was some way to escape his parent’s indifference. The other boy must have sensed his destress because the laughing suddenly ceased. When Steve peeked up tentatively through wet lashes, he saw the boy had edged closer; a look of concern etched behind the dirt of his face.

“Hey? Are you okay? I won’t hurt you, I promise,” the boy cajoled. He was only a step or two away from Steve now so he could make out the boy’s features more clearly. He looked to be about Steve’s age, just a little taller maybe with the most striking big, brown eyes Steve had ever seen now they were no longer crinkled with laughter. Something about them made Steve feel instantly more at ease and ignited a warm sensation in his stomach. He briefly thought the boy might be pretty underneath all the layers of dirt, before his father’s voice in his head began yelling at him that he’s not supposed to think boys are pretty. Steve made that mistake once, and his father made sure he never made it again. He took a deep breath and fought back the remaining tears, reminded that his father wouldn’t like that either. Crying was for girls and pansies, not for tough boys like Steve. So, he pushed it all down, buried it somewhere deep inside, and responded to the boy.

Steve sniffed, “S-sorry, I just thought…you know…you were-”

“Some jungle boy,” the boy interjected with an eyebrow raised, and Steve cringed at the accuracy, “like Mowgli or something?”

The boy was still smiling and didn’t look offended like Steve would have been if their rolls had been reversed. If anything, a twinkle of amusement shone in his eyes.

“I don’t know what a Mowgli is but, yeah, I guess,” Steve shyly admitted. There was no point in hiding it. Steve was a bad liar anyway; it’s why he got beat so often. “Sorry,” he added again.

“It’s fine, I get it,” the boy shrugged it off like it happened often. “I’m Eddie by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Steve, and I’m seven and a half,” he replied enthusiastically, forgetting himself now that Eddie had shown him what seemed to be genuine kindness and interest. He relaxed more into the conversation with his potential new friend; all apprehension quickly forgotten. Steve somehow felt like he’d known Eddie his whole life, at least that’s how Eddie looked at Steve, like they were already best friends.

“Wha’cha doing all the way out here by yourself, Stevie?”

Stevie? No one had ever called him Stevie before. It was strictly Steven at home, and Tommy and the others called him Steve for short, but never Stevie. He thought he kind of liked it if the increasing warmness in his stomach was anything to go by.

“Just playing. My house is just over there by the trees,” Steve pointed back over his shoulder to the way he came through. It occurred to Steve suddenly that he hadn’t seen Eddie at school before. Hawkins was a small enough town that it had a single elementary school. The school was big to little Steve but he was sure he would have spotted Eddie a mile away if he was there. He was kind of hard to miss. He looked nothing like the other kids at school. He decided to ask. “Are you in the same grade as me? How come I haven’t seen you in school?”

The boy, Eddie, suddenly looked a bit forlorn; the sparkle in his eyes clouded over and his smile dropped a little. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Actually, I just turned nine and I- I don’t go to school here,” he said vaguely before quickly regaining his sunny attitude again to compliment Steve. “I really like your costume. You look rad.”

Steve, a little caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, looked down at himself. That’s right, he was wearing an Indian costume. Recently, Steve had gotten really into watching old Westerns on TV and was delighted to find that when his father discovered his new hobby he was met with encouragement; a ruffle of his hair and a ‘That’s my boy. We’ll make a man out of you yet’, rather than the usual belt across his rear and sneer of distain over Steve’s prior interests. Steve had never been so happy to have his father’s attention like that, to have anything at all in common with him, something to share with him; he was ecstatic. He looked forward to Sunday afternoons when his father was home because there was usually an old John Wayne Western on the local channel that meant his father would watch it in his den, where he’d sit back in his recliner and nurse a brandy or two after a long week of business meetings and trips. When he realized Steve had an interest in Westerns, he began to allow Steve into the den to sit on the floor next to the recliner and watch with him as long as he stayed silent and didn’t touch anything. Those moments to Steve were like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one, but they were becoming increasingly rare lately. When there weren’t any Westerns on TV, Steve spent his days after school entertaining himself in the woods behind his house by playing what he called ‘Cowboys and Indians’. Of course, his father made it known that he was not pleased when his aunt appeared a few weeks back with a Native American costume in tow for Steve instead of the preferred cowboy one, but he’d yet to take it away from Steve.

“Oh, thanks!” Steve replied, suddenly buzzing with excitement and bending to pick up the discarded bow and arrow and dusting it off. “My aunt Patricia bought it for me. She always brings me presents when she visits. She’s super nice, but she lives all the way in Chicago, you know, so I only see her, like, once a year. I like watching cowboys and Indians on TV with my dad so that’s how she knew I’d like it. Do you like playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’?”

He’d paused in his spiel to catch his breath and to listen for Eddie’s answer when noticed the look of surprise painted across the other boy’s face. You see, Steve was a chatty child by nature. Add to this the fact that he spent most of his time playing alone and staying out of his parent’s way, it made sense that he was easily excitable when someone directed their attention to him. But Steve was old enough to realize that this was exactly the kind of thing that drove his parents and the people around him to shun him, after all ‘Children should be seen and not heard, Steven’, and now he feared he’d lose his new friend because of it too.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve rushed to apologize. He couldn’t help the sound of panic that seeped into his voice. “I know I’m not supposed to talk so much. I won’t do it again. I’ll shut up; I promise.”

The other boy’s eyebrows disappeared further into his messy bangs at Steve’s frantic apology, but it quickly morphed into something Steve couldn’t quite read. All he knew was that Eddie was watching him intently. It kind of felt like he was staring into Steve’s soul or trying to read his mind. Steve waited with baited breath for the strike that inevitably came when he spoke out of turn. It didn’t come.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say sorry to me. I liked hearing about your aunt. She sounds great,” Eddie beamed at Steve, and it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket with a hot cocoa on a cold day. “And I do like playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’. It can’t be much fun playing it on your own though. It’s getting kind of dark now, but how about I come back tomorrow and we can play together? I’ll be the cowboy and you can be the Indian.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t believe his luck! The boy still wanted to play with him, even after hearing him ramble excitedly. His friends at school laughed at him when he asked them to play ‘Cowboys and Indians’ with him and called him a baby. But now, finally, Steve had a playmate that was interested in the same things as him, and he was an older boy too! This moment, rivalled the Sunday afternoons spent with his father; fast becoming like Christmas and his birthday and Easter all at once.

“Wow! You have a cowboy costume?!” Steve asked in wonder at the chances.

“No,” he shrugged, turning back to grab a long stick laying against the rock Steve hadn’t noticed before. It was a really nice stick, the kind Steve or any child with an active imagination would have hours of fun with. “But, whatever, I’ll figure something out. See you here tomorrow then?” Eddie asked, swigging the stick over his bony shoulders.

Steve nodded; his smile wide.

“Cool! See ya later, Stevie!” Eddie called out as he walked deeper into the woods.

“See ya, Eddie!”

Steve watched as Eddie battled his way through the undergrowth, beating back the brush with his trusty stick until he disappeared into the evening gloom, and wished like crazy that it was tomorrow already.

***

As soon as school finished the next day, Steve rushed home, not stopping to chat with Tommy or the others when they called out to him. He wasn’t sure what time Eddie wanted to meet him and Steve didn’t want to accidentally miss him. He had a gift to give his new friend after all.

He carried the precious cargo in a box to their meeting place in the woods wearing his full costume with his bow and arrow slung over his shoulder. It wasn’t far to the big rock from his backyard, but it took longer than usual for Steve to maneuver his way through the overgrown path with the box obscuring his view, much to his annoyance.

The niggling part of his brain that had tormented him all day, telling him Eddie wasn’t going to come and hang out with a baby like Steve, was finally silenced when he spotted the boy lying on top of the rock with one arm behind his head and the other playing with something shiny in the other, glinting in the afternoon sun beating down on him through the gaps in the trees. Little Steve thought he looked less like the wolf-child he had mistakenly thought him, and more like a mystical forest fairy this way, almost ethereal in the way the light caught his pale skin. Steve’s heart leaped in his chest and he fumbled with the box, almost dropping it. The rustling grabbed Eddie’s attention. He sat up and peered over down from his perch at a flustered Steve.

“Hey! Stevie!” he greeted loudly, pocketing his shiny toy and quickly jumping from the rock to the ground. “Whaddya think?” he asked, spinning in a circle to show off his ‘cowboy’ outfit.

Eddie still wore his ripped and dirt-streaked black jeans from the day before with a toy gun shoved into his right front pocket, but up top he wore a white button-up shirt and what looked to be a black vest from a three-piece suit like the ones his father often wore, both of which were a number of sizes too big for Eddie’s scrawny frame. Steve also noticed that Eddie had at least attempted to clean up a bit since they last met. His face and hands were mostly free of dirt, but his clothes and hair remained largely in disarray. Steve still thought he looked great, like the real rugged cowboys he’d seen in the movies, all he was missing was the hat; which reminded Steve.

“Oh, you need a hat! All cowboys have to have a hat. Close your eyes and no peeking,” Steve instructed, setting the box down at his feet. Eddie hesitated a moment, eyes darting around the clearing before grimacing slightly and squeezing his eyes shut which Steve briefly thought was odd but was too caught up in excitement to really take notice.

Steve didn’t have a cowboy hat, but he remembered last night that his father had a big, black-rimmed hat that Steve had seen him wear once when his father and mother went to a formal ball for some big charity event. His father had never worn it again and it sat in a hat box in his parent’s closet gathering dust. Steve figured his father wouldn’t miss it, and with Steve’s boyish imagination, he could easily pretend it was a real cowboy hat. He moved towards Eddie and rose on his tippy-toes to place it on his new friend’s wild, dark curls. Eddie flinched slightly but didn’t open his eyes.

“Okay, you can look now,” Steve announced.

The other boy opened his eyes and felt for the object placed on his head, laughing when he realized it wasn’t a typical cowboy hat. Steve’s self-consciousness returned at hearing his new friend laugh at his childishness, prompting him to begin again with the apologies.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid. I just thought we could pretend or something … I dunno,” he mumbled, knowing there was little point in explaining it to Eddie. It had never stopped his father or his friends from ridiculing him before; in fact, it often made it worse. “Sorry.”

“It’s perfect, Stevie. Thanks!” Eddie said, patting him on the shoulder lightly, surprising Steve with his kindness. Eddie was always surprising Steve with his reactions.

“So, you ready to play?”

***

Eddie was everything little Steve could have wished for in a friend, and then some. He never laughed at Steve, only with him; no matter how stupid Steve felt for not understanding something Eddie was passionately discussing with him and asking endless questions. Steve worried that Eddie would become quickly annoyed by him like everyone else in his life, but in fact the opposite was true. Eddie seemed to be delighted by it and enthusiastically explained it in more detail, his face lighting up and arms flailing in broad gestures as he did so, making Steve’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Thanks to Eddie, Steve learned more in his short friendship with him than the boy ever had from his parents or school friends, and now he had a pretty in-depth knowledge about all kinds of cool things. Eddie knew everything! He learned how to skip rocks so that they bounced more than twice. He learned the best way to catch frogs and bugs at the pond. He also learned the names of plants and animals from Eddie as he pointed them out. He even learned how to identify and avoid poison ivy and some other dangerous plants after Eddie saved him from walking straight through a thick patch of it. He learned how to find himself a cool stick to use as a sword or a staff while off on one of their adventures after he complimented Eddie on his; the older boy helping him choose one and whittle away the unwanted twigs with a small pocket knife. Steve always wished he could repay Eddie in some way, but Eddie was a big boy and there wasn’t anything Steve could teach him that Eddie wouldn’t already know.

They quickly became an inseparable duo; a team. Steve really looked-up to Eddie, until he wasn’t just Steve’s friend; he was his hero.

Never once, in the entire time he knew him, did Steve feel anything but welcome and cared for in Eddie’s presence. He felt like what Steve imagined a real home to feel like, a real family who were always looking out for one another, and he was addicted to it. He sought out Eddie every day after school, and hung around by the big rock from early morning on the weekends hoping that Eddie would show up. Sometimes he didn’t. On those days, Steve was left to play alone in the woods behind his house, afraid to go any deeper without Eddie there. Usually, he’d be back by the next day in his waist-coat and top hat ready to play ‘Cowboys and Indians’ with Steve again, but sometimes he was gone for a while and when he came back, he came back different; subdued and very un-Eddie-like. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, there were physical differences too; faded marks or bruises on his arms and face that looked suspiciously like the marks Steve was often left with a few days after his father gave him the belt. Whenever Steve asked if he was okay, Eddie blamed his lack of coordination and spatial awareness, dismissing it as a fall down the stairs or walking into a door. And Steve had no reason not to believe him. On days like that, the boys didn’t stray far from the big rock or play games really. Eddie usually sat there in silence while Steve saddled up right next to him and tried to fill it with jokes and stories from school. Eddie was the best story-teller ever, and nothing Steve told could compare, but he always tried his best to cheer Eddie up. It was a huge achievement for Steve anytime he manged to get him to crack a smile.

One afternoon, a couple of months into their friendship, Steve finally gathered the courage to ask Eddie outright about it after he came back after a particular long stint away sporting a couple of small, angry-looking, circular red marks on his right arm. Usually, whenever the topic of conversation came around to Eddie and his life in general, the boy would flip the conversation back on Steve. And Steve, who loved nothing more than to talk, was easily distracted. And so, Steve honestly knew very little about Eddie, whereas Eddie pretty much knew all there was to know about Steve. Now that Steve was on to Eddie’s tactics, he was determined to get to the bottom of it this time because if Eddie was hurt and sad, Steve was hurt and sad. Eddie always looked after Steve, and Steve really wanted to show Eddie the same kindness.

“Where were you? It’s been a whole week of school. You’ve never been gone that long before,” Steve commented, careful to keep his voice light. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie’s hand stilled where it was doodling with a twig in the dirt. His whole body tensed.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a- a family trip out of town is all,” Eddie answered, not meeting Steve’s eye. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

“What happened to your arm? It looks sore. Did your parents take you to get it checked?”

Eddie looked down at his arm where Steve was gesturing, brows drawn and mouth opening and closing in false starts. He seemed to be struggling to come up with a valid excuse and running out of time to make it sound natural, and so Eddie tried to laugh it off instead, though it sounded a little shakily to Steve’s ears.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. I don’t even remember how I got it.”

That was probably the most blatant lie Eddie had ever told him in their short friendship. If Steve had an injury as raised and angry looking as that, he would absolutely remember how he got it. It would be seared into his brain, not just his arm. Steve thought this situation seemed awfully familiar. It wasn’t much different to how Steve acted at school that one time his teachers asked him about his sudden limp the next day after getting a note home about being disruptive in class. Eddie appeared to be afraid of something, or more likely, someone. Steve trusted Eddie with his life, and he wanted Eddie to trust him in return.

“You know, sometimes my dad gets really mad at me when I don’t do things exactly the way he wants me to or talk too much about things I like.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at Steve’s confession.

“Sometimes he just grabs me real hard and yells at me, but when I’ve been really bad, he takes off his belt,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know you can tell me anything, Eddie. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Eddie remained silent for a moment and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said, pulling Steve to his side in a one-armed hug. Steve snuggled into the older boy’s side, always relishing in the affection Eddie gave so freely. “Your dad’s a piece of shit for doing that. I guess, both our dads are,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“Is he the one that did that to you?”

Eddie nodded solemnly, his expression slowly hardening. Steve had never seen Eddie angry before. It kind of scared him.

“Fuck!’ he yelled, releasing his hold on Steve. “I can’t fucking wait ‘til I’m bigger, ‘cause when I am, I’m going to make him wish he was- he was- ugh!” Eddie threw the stick he was holding and let out a sigh of frustration. “I didn’t do anything! It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!”

Steve always thought he’d deserved it when his father got angry. If he just behaved normally and kept his mouth shut it wouldn’t happen. ‘Why can’t you be more like the Hagans’ boy, huh? You’re an embarrassment, you know that?’ But maybe Eddie was on to something. Hurting people was bad. At least, that’s what his teachers always said, and the thought of hurting any of his classmates made Steve feel sick. Could his father have been wrong all along? Did Steve not deserve to be hit after all for sharing his thoughts and having the interests he had? Eddie definitely didn’t seem to think so, and Eddie is always right. Eddie always looked after Steve, and never laid a finger on him, even when he said something that would send his father into a rage. He felt safe with him, and would stay with Eddie forever if he could.

That gave him an idea.

“Maybe we could run away!” Steve said suddenly, his face lighting up in hope. “We could live out here in the woods and no one would ever find us! You know a lot about plants and fishing and stuff; I bet we could do it! We would be outlaws like real cowboys!”

Eddie chuckled fondly at Steve, but Steve’s optimism and excitement was absent in Eddie.

“Sounds great, Stevie. Maybe someday. After all, us outlaws gotta stick together, right?”

Deep down Steve knew it wasn’t really an option for them, but it didn’t stop them fantasizing and talking about it from that day on. On particularly difficult, lonely days, it was all that kept Steve going; that there would eventually come a time that he could escape the pressures inflicted on him by his father, and that Eddie would be there with him every step of the way.

Gradually, since that faithful conversation by the rock, Eddie opened up to Steve about his homelife, but only when outright asked and under the pretense that Steve promised never to tell a soul about anything Eddie said. Over time, he learned that Eddie was raised by his grandpa, his mama’s daddy, for the first few years of his life. His parents came and went during this time, and his grandpa was his best friend. It was from his grandpa that Eddie learned all the cool things he knew and passed on to Steve. It was also from his grandpa that Eddie received his most prized possession; a gold pocket watch that Steve had only caught glimpses of before then. He learned that after his grandpa died when Eddie was seven, his whole life came crashing down. His parents sold his grandpa’s house, pulled him from school and all his friends, and moved him to Hawkins to his father’s long abandoned family cabin in the woods.

His responses were still a little vague at times. At first, Steve was worried that Eddie didn’t trust him, but started to think that maybe there was something else going on, stuff happening that Eddie didn’t even understand himself to be able to tell Steve. He learned that Eddie’s parents were often sick, and when they were sick, they forgot Eddie existed, leaving him to fend for himself. When his father was well, he would take Eddie on trips out of town, usually to the city, and make Eddie do what Eddie called ‘bad things’ and beat him if he refused to do it. His parents usually became sick again after this, and Eddie would do his best to look after them and himself with the little resources they had. Steve was surprised to learn Eddie didn’t have hot water, or heating, or much food, or warm clothes. Steve couldn’t imagine a life like that, and his heart broke knowing that that was Eddie’s life; his bestest friend in the whole world Eddie.

As winter set in, and the first flurries of snow began to fall in Hawkins, Steve made it his mission to share with Eddie some of the things he took for granted. There wasn’t much little Steve could do about the lack of hot water and heating, but his house had an overabundance of food that his parents wouldn’t notice was missing, and Steve had an old winter coat that didn’t really fit him anymore that Eddie could use. Eddie had straight up refused to accept any food at first, but he gratefully took the coat that offered much better protection against the cold than a ratty t-shirt or thread-bare sweater; even if it was far too short in the arms for Eddie’s gangly limbs, it zipped up just fine. It meant they could play for longer, too. Steve tried a few times in vain to get Eddie to take food home with him; nothing fancy, just a few tin cans that were lying around the pantry within Steve’s reach and some bread or cereal, but he continued hard-headedly to refuse. So instead, Steve took to packing snacks and drinks in his bag for them to share while they played. Eddie seemed much more receptive to that, though he didn’t take much. As the weather turned colder, Steve became brave; spurred by the knowledge that he found a way to look after Eddie like Eddie did for him. He’d sometimes ask his mother to make him some sandwiches and hot cocoa to take with him for the afternoon. At first, she’d been suspicious about his request of two sandwiches and two cups, but Steve sadly knew the best way to appease his mother was to disappear, and so, he’d told her he would be outside playing longer so he needed an extra sandwich. It was enough of an incentive for her to drop the questions. It didn’t hurt as much as it used to now that he had Eddie, but it still made him a little misty-eyed. He wished his mother would dote on him like his classmate’s mothers did when they picked their kids up from school; ruffling their hair and asking how their day at school went. Some even went as far as to hug their kids at the school gate. Heck, Steve just wished his mother would look at him with a warm smile rather than the look of pure distain that seemed permanently etched on her pretty face anytime she was reminded of Steve’s existence.

A few months later, in early spring, Steve learned to view his mother’s indifference as a blessing rather than a curse. His father had returned to Hawkins for a week after a prolonged absence. His father was promoted yet again not too long ago and he had been transferred to the company’s main office in Chicago, meaning he spent the majority of his time there in a rented apartment and only returned for a few days every couple of months at his mother’s insistence. Steve hadn’t seen him since Christmas. Steve’s frequent ventures out into the woods immediately caught his father’s attention. His father only asked him once.

“Where do you keep running off to after school?”

“Nowhere. Just playing in the woods, sir,” Steve answered innocently, hoping his father would appreciate that he didn’t forget to be respectful, and decide to leave it at that. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

“With who?”

The answer to this was what his father was most concerned with. He had always taken a keen interest in the type of people young Steve surrounded himself with. If they were not to the Harrington’s ridiculously high social standards, then they were quickly ousted from Steve’s friend group. Steve wasn’t sure what his father said or did to achieve this; all he knew was that his friend would suddenly start fearfully avoiding Steve at school. The friend group he had now was small and carefully selected by his father, and Steve found it difficult to connect with them. If his father knew of Eddie, then Steve knew their friendship would be over and Steve would lose the best friend he’d ever had; the only friend he had that was his.

“No one, sir.”

“Is that so?” his father replied dangerously. “Then who is this Eddie I’ve been hearing about, hm?”

Steve’s heart sank like a stone into the pit of his stomach, and his blood ran cold. How could he possibly know? Steve thought he was being so careful. He was panicking now.

“No, sir, I swear, I just play out there by myself.”

“Funny. I was over at the Hagan’s place the other day and little Tommy had a lot to say about your mysterious new friend. He said you don’t play with him much anymore after school.”

“No, there is no new friend. I- He-”

“Are you calling Tommy a liar?” his father cut in, a warning in his voice for Steve to tread carefully. “Are you calling me a liar? Because I saw you with my own two eyes, boy, out there fraternizing with the scum of Hawkins!” his father yelled, nostrils flared and a wild anger in his eyes. It was over. His father saw them together.

Steve knew it would make it worse but he couldn’t help the wracked sobs that escaped him, snot and tears trailing down his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please,” Steve begged though his sobs. The ‘please don’t beat me’, and more importantly, ‘please don’t take Eddie away from me’, went unsaid.

A knock on the door saved Steve from being berated for crying.

“That’ll be the police. Steven, go to your room,” his father commanded as he went to answer the door.

The police!? A fresh wave of panic overtook Steve. He promised Eddie not to tell anyone about him and now the police were involved. On top of losing his friend, Eddie was going to be in big trouble, and it was all Steve’s fault.

“Officer Jim Hopper, Hawkins Police Department. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Harrington?”

His father moved away from the door to allow a burly man with a thick moustache enter their home.

“Yes. My son is being harassed by a no-good brat and I want you to tell that delinquent to leave my son alone.”

“Okay,” the officer replied carefully, his eyes quickly taking in the scene and lingering a moment longer on Steve, “and what is the nature of this harassment?”

“No, sir, please. He’s my friend-” Steve begged through his tears, stepping forward and pulling on his father’s suit jacket.

“Quiet, boy,” his father admonished sharply, swatting him away and turning back to the officer. “This delinquent is an older boy that has been hanging around my son and being a bad influence on him, perpetuating bad behavior at home. I want him away from my son.”

“That’s not true, sir, please. It’s not true. Eddie is my friend.” Steve was almost hysterical now and struggling to articulate himself clearly so his father and the officer won’t take Eddie away from him.

“Olivia, get your son upstairs and to his room,” his father barked.

His mother hurriedly snapped into action from her spot at the dining room door and grabbed Steve roughly around the arm.

“Come along, Steven,” she said with faux concern, dragging Steve toward the stairs as he struggled against her. Her long, manicured nails digging hard into his arm leaving blood-red marks in their wake.

“Mr. Harrington, I understand your concerns but it doesn’t sound like any crime was committed to me. Have you spoken to the parents of the child in question and tried coming to some agreement?” the officer sighed, sounding done with the conversation despite parroting the polite formalities required of his profession.

Steve struggled against his mother’s hold on the stairs, his free arm gripping the banister of as tightly as he could, and ignored her quiet coaxing. He was thankful in that moment that her fear of making a scene prevented her from yanking him too hard and yelling at him in front of the police. He tried his hardest to stifle his sobs so he could hear what was happening. Maybe he could somehow warn Eddie in time. Or maybe they could run away for real like they always talked about before Eddie could get in trouble.

“Look here, Officer Whatever-your-name-is. I don’t care what it sounds like to you. I pay my fair share of taxes just like any good law-abiding citizen. Those taxes keep you in donuts to protect us from trash like them,” his father spat, by now enraged. “So, you go over there this instant and tell those low-life Munson’s to keep their no-good spawn away from my impressionable son!”

The officer’s impassive face at his father’s rant suddenly morphed into confusion.

“Wait, wait, back up. Did you say Munson? The Munson’s have a kid?!”

“I followed that little shit back through the woods to the old Munson cabin last night. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that that filthy brat is one of them. Despicable, the lot of them.”

The officer’s face noticeably paled.

“Thank you, Mr. Harrington,” the officer said, schooling his expression and picking the formalities back up. “We’ll follow up your claim with the Munsons and ask them to keep their son away from yours. Have a good evening.”

The officer tipped his hat and left, speaking hurriedly into a radio on his shoulder as he briskly walked back to the patrol car.

It was over. There was nothing Steve could do as tears silently streaked down his face. The police would get Eddie before Steve could even try to escape. His mind began to spiral at all the possibility that he’d never see Eddie again.

His father stood affronted momentarily at the officer’s clipped tone and hasty departure. He slammed the door shut, shocking Steve back into his body. A loud, hiccupping sob escaped Steve and he started crying again.

“I thought I told you to take him upstairs,” his father snapped at his mother. “Put him to bed. I’ll be in the den.” And with that, his father walked away.

Steve allowed himself to be pulled harshly into his room and deposited on the bed where he was left to cry himself into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares of Eddie being taken away from him.

***

In the days and weeks following that night, Steve snuck out of the Harrington house and into the woods as often as he could. He waited by their rock for hours each time, hoping Eddie would appear with his boisterous laughter and wild hair, but he never did. And with each failed attempt at meeting, Steve silently cried himself to sleep - worrying about him; missing him. It hurt so much – too much; more than anything he’d felt in his seven years of life. More than that time he fell off his bike and broke his arm, and more than the beating he got from his father the day after his father confronted him about Eddie. He’d take any number of beatings if it meant he could see Eddie again and know he was alright.

As the weeks rolled into months, the hurt and hopelessness became too much to bear for little Steve. His memories of Eddie and the time he spent with him gradually became foggy. So much so, that Steve was having a hard time determining whether it was real or if Eddie had been a figment of Steve’s imagination – an imaginary friend he was growing out of. When he’d asked his mother for confirmation, she denied Steve ever knowing anyone called Eddie. He was too afraid to ask his father. He didn’t even have anything to remember Eddie by, so how could he possibly know for sure.

His father made sure to keep a closer eye on Steve and bullied his indifferent mother into doing the same, much to her reluctance. He was always under someone’s gaze; be it his parents, his teachers, his friends, or even his friend’s parents – every little thing Steve did was noted and reported on and if his father heard something he didn’t like when he was next in town, Steve would be punished, harshly. Any fight Steve had left in him to continue being himself was steadily being beaten out of him, both mentally and physically. He grew colder and uncaring – both about himself and others. Eventually, he sometimes joined in with Tommy when he started wailing on other kids in the playground after school. He started insidious rumors about his more quiet and vulnerable classmates, and slapped books from the hands of kids in the hallways as they walked to their classes if they happened to remind him too much of himself before he stopped caring. The friends pre-approved of by his father encouraged him, egging him on, giving him a celebratory thump on the back and a “nice one, Harrington”. Gradually, Steve began to fit in with those around him and all it took was for him to stop fighting, to stop caring – to adopt the same indifference his mother exuded when he was in the room with her.

In time, Steve forgot Eddie completely. He forgot the things he’d learned from him. He forgot imagination and warmth and happiness and kindness – everything Steve was.

He forgot himself.