“Can I ask…”

“Why I’m here?” Eric said answering his question. “I’m not really sure. But I don’t really like the way they treat you. I’m guessing they don’t feed you very well considering how skinny you are. I brought food!” He told him, his eyes alight. “Not very much, but it’s all I was able to sneak away.”

Eric helped Ash to sit up so that he wouldn’t choke on his food. There was a little bit of bread for him, and there was a little bit of dried beef: meat was not something he had ever remembered getting.

Against his will, Ash started to tear up. “What’s wrong?” Eric asked in a worried voice.

Ash shook his head and muttered, “Thank you.” Before he bit off a tiny piece of the meat. It was the best thing he had ever remembered having.

Eric reached back into the crate to give him more water, and Ash gladly drank it. When he was finished eating, Eric asked him, “So what did he do this time?”

“What? Who?”

“You know what I’m talking about. As much as the other kids don’t want to admit it, we can see the bruises… the cuts… the pain. So, what did he do to you.”

“It wasn’t him per se.” Ash said beating around the bush.

“Okay, then what did the other person do. Besides the obvious.” He said gesturing to his bloody matted hair and the bruises and cuts on his face.

“It’s nothing. I’m used to it.” He said shrugging and then wincing because of the pain.

Eric huffed and then something dawned on him. “Show me your back.” He demanded.

“What? Why?”

“You winced twice now, and it was either when I was touching near your back or when you shrugged, moving your back. So, show me your back.”

“No.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just see for myself.”

“What? No! It’s none of your business!”