Page 3 of River Wild

“Do you pinkie promise?”

“I pinkie promise. So, what’s the game called?”

He starts to unbuckle his pants.

I turn my face away. I stare at the picture tacked to the refrigerator. I drew it at school on Friday for Mama. It’s a picture of a puppy.

I really want a puppy.

I hear the clang of his buckle. The zip lowering.

My body starts to tremble.

“River.”

Please don’t make me do this.

His hand takes hold of my arm and pulls me to him.

His usual stench of beer and sweat hits me. I feel sick.

“Look at me, boy.”

I force my face his way. I stare at the wall behind him. I can’t look at him.

“We’re going to do something different today. You know how, when you’re a good boy for me, Daddy gives you that special treat.”

I shut my eyes.

“Well, you’re going to do that for me.”

“P-please … I-I d-don’t want to,” I whisper.

He slaps me across the face.

I start to cry.

He slaps me again, harder this time. He grabs hold of my face, fingers pinching my cheeks.

“Open your eyes, boy.”

I do as I was told. Tears run down my face.

“Stop fucking crying. Only babies cry. Are you a baby, River?”

“N-no.”

“Then, stop acting like one.” His face is bright red. His eyes are bulging. His fingers squeeze my face, hurting me more. “You will do as I tell you, boy. Because, if you don’t, you know what will happen.”

“I-I d-don’t want to play this g-game anymore,” I whispered. “I-I d-don’t think I like it.”

“Do you know what happens to little boys who break their promises, River?”

I shook my head.

“They go to jail, and they never see their mamas again.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! Please don’t take me to jail!”