The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl

Ville hadn't told the police anything. He just kept teasing them, giving them the same cryptic clues that had made Bam so angry with him. Bam had remained true to his word despite the fact that his mother had threatened to keep him from visiting the hospital if he didn't come clean with everything Ville had told him. Bam told her that what Ville had said didn't include who had hurt him. This time. he thought, tears leaking out of his eyes as he made his way to Ville's room.

The nurses twisted visiting hours for him, considering Ville was slightly better after he saw Bam. They promised not to tell when he skipped school, but called his mother as soon as she was out of sight. April Margera always promised to deal with him when she got home, but never did. "Ville's more important than school right now. Just promise me you'll catch up with all your classes when things get better." And Bam would give a nod, not really hearing what she was saying.

On this particular visit he slipped Ville a pack of cigarettes he had been begging for. "Don't let them know you got them." he said. "They'll kill me and then my mom'll chase my ghost down and kill that, too."

Ville gave a smile and a soft laugh. "I'll smoke 'em in the shower, Bam. I want to see you just as much as you're here." Just as much as I think you want to see me. He tried not to say words like that, tried not to give his young angel more than he could deal with at the moment.

Bam smiled, setting the backpack he had brought in next to bed. "I got more clothes before I came. And eyeliner. Special out of my shoplifting drawer, just for you."

Ville laughed, obviously fighting back a tidal wave of tears this time. "Bam . . . they said they were going to send me to the fucking mental ward if I didn't tell. They said I'm 'psychologically traumatized' or some bullshit like that." He blinked, looking down.

"Then tell." Bam said.

Ville looked up at him, scoffing. "It's not that easy. You think I like having those fucking cops in here everyday asking me stupid questions?"

"If you tell then they'll lock him up."

"Them. Lock them up." Ville said. He'd found out it was easier to talk to Bam, if he only mentioned details that would never point out who had given him the concussion from the headboard of his bed, who had raped him to the point of blackout.

"Lock them up then." Bam said. "Just tell them what they want so you can get out of here. You can stay with me. Mom said it was okay if the cops said so."

"I don't know if they will."

"Ville . . . can't you tell me who hurt you? It's just me. I won't tell, I swear." Bam didn't know if he was lying or not. Maybe Ville didn't know. Maybe that's why he hadn't said anything.

Ville swung his feet slightly, the toes of his socks running across the floor. "Promise?"

When Ville looked like that Bam just wanted to reach out and grab his hand, kiss him. Watching the boy who had been forced to lose his childlike innocence and pretend he was okay with acting like an adult . . . watching him act like the scared kid that he was made Bam want to cry. But instead he simply promised, waiting for Ville to tell him.

"There's one." Ville whispered, still looking at the floor. "Connor. He's . . . he's th-the Y--"

But Bam cut him off, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "The youth minister down at the Lutheran church?"

Ville bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "And . . . and . . ." He looked up at Bam, tears and terror in his green eyes. "B-Bryce."

Bam nodded, hands shaking. "They're never going to hurt you again, Ville. I promise." he murmured, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the green eyes boy's cheek.

Bam left at five, promising to come back at seven. "Eat something?" he asked before he left. Ville just waved him off, smiling for real when Bam rushed back into the room to give him a quick peck on the lips.

Bam was treating Ville like he might break at any second. Terrified that if he grabbed Ville's hand or whispered any term of endearement the other boy would fly into hysterics or something of the sort. But Ville wanted Bam to grab his hand and kiss him. It reminded him that God hadn't managed to fuck up his life completely.

* * *

He was shaken awake at eight by April Margera who was frantic and accompanied by a nurse. He sat up, confused. "Wh-What's wrong?" Instantly his thoughts flashed on his blue eyed angel. "Is it Bam?" he asked, his voice just as panicked as April's face. "Did something happen to him?"

"He didn't come home." she said in a choke voice. "I thought he was here but he calls and . . . and he didn't and they said he left at six and--" Her voice cracked and Ville wanted to reach out and grab her hand, but couldn't will himself to move.

"Did he say anything?" the nurse asked. Ville shook his head, trying to remember anything. "Did you? Did you say anything that may have made him go somewhere?"

"Where did you check?" Ville asked.

April wiped at her eyes. "The skatepark. And Ryan and Chris' houses. The Taylors'."

Ville's eyes widened with realization and fear. Would he? Would he be that fucking stupid? "H-He said . . . I told him who hurt me and he said he'd make sure it didn't happen again, but I didn't think he would do that, April. I swear, I didn't! I never would have--"

"Tell us who." the nurse said, trying to be gentle and forceful at the same time. It didn't work, but Ville didn't care.

"Connor something and Bryce. Bryce Taylor that I live with. I don't know the Connor guy's last name but he works at the church." Ville said it quickly, not caring that his week of alluding the cops was now worthless. "You've got to find him quick. They said if I told that . . . they said they'd hurt him. You've got to find him." he repeated.

Another nurse appeared in the room. "The police are here, Mrs. Margera."

Bam's mother nodded. "I'll let you know." she told Ville before she hurried out of the room.

Ville looked at the nurse, nose stinging with the threat of tears. "Go." he said, not even caring if he sounded like a complete prick, just terrified at the thought of anyone other than Bam seeing him cry. She hesitated for a minute, then nodded and disappeared through the door.

Ville pulled his knees up to his chest, tears streaking down his cheeks as silent choked sobs left his body. Why did I tell? Why did I say anything? Just let him be all right. Please don't let them hurt him. He doesn't look like me. He shouldn't get hurt. It's not fair. Don't let him get hurt.

* * *

Ville sat like that for an hour before anyone else walked into his room. When they did, he looked up, hoping to see the face of the blue eyed boy, even though he had half convinced himself Bam's parents would never want them to see each other again.

He turned away quickly when a woman in khakis, a button down shirt, and a blazer entered the room. He wiped his eyes on the back of the comforter despite the fact he knew no one would be fooled.

"Ville Valo?" she asked. He nodded. "I'm Detective Wilts. I'm with the police department."

No shit. "Bam? Is he all right? Did they find him? Did--"

"He's fine." the detective assured him, tucking her brown hair behind her ears as she fished a notepad and pen out of her pocket. "He's answering some questions and you need to do the same before you can see him."

"What happened?" Ville asked before she could stop him.

"We found him outside of Connor Davis' home. We were told what you had said and both Mr. Davis and Mr. Taylor are currently in custody."

"What happens to me?" Ville questioned, looking at his hands.

"Mrs. Margera is insisting you be released to them but until either the county or your parents give permission you'll be placed in--"

"I'll give you my parents phone number." Ville said. "But you can't tell them what happened."

"It's illegal for us to with hold information like that, Ville." Wilts said. "Your parents are going to have to be informed of the situation."

"Can you tell them not to come here?" Ville pleaded. "Just tell them it's all okay and not to worry about it?"

The brunette paused for a moment. "We can tell them that their statement and presence will do nothing for the case." she said. "But if they want to come here that's their decision. They can't take you out of the state." she assured him. "Until the trial you're required to say here, considering that you're a minor."

Ville nodded. "Okay. So what questions do you need to ask me?" His feet scuffed the floor again.

"How about that phone number first?" Detective Wilts asked. When Ville gave it to her, she flashed him a small smile. "I know we know who attacked you, but I actually need you to give us the names."

"Bryce Taylor and Connor . . . what did you say his last name was?" Ville asked. "Davis? Connor Davis?"

"And what do they do to hurt you?" she asked.

Ville ducked his head, his face flushing in shame. I'm not supposed to look like this. Why are they acting like this? Why is she being nice?

"Ville," the detective said gently, "you have nothing to be ashamed of. They hurt you. You did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing."

I look like a girl.

"I can't." Ville said. "What if they get out? What if they hurt him?"

"We will do everything possible to make sure that doesn't happen." she assured him.

"And what if it's not enough?" Ville shot, head snapping up to glare at her. "What if they get out anyway? What if they can pay your stupid bail or whatever the fuck it is?"

"Then will position police to keep an eye on both you and Bam. And his family. We'll make sure nothing happens to any of you."

"Swear it."

"I swear we will not let allow anything to happen to any of you." she promised. "Can you answer the question now?"

Ville looked away again. "They fuck me." he said, just loudly enough that Wilts could hear him. "Bryce the most. Connor only comes over sometimes. But it's worse with him."

"Can you tell me what they do to you?" she asked gently.

"They fuck me." Ville said. "They tie me down on the bed and fuck me. And they hit me with these things and Bryce cuts me so that I can't do anything without hurting. And they just . . . they fuck me." Because I'm pretty.

"Where does he cut you?" she asked.

"Here." Ville said, making an X pattern on his side. "And he cut my feet once. They kept bleeding all day. The cuts would close and then they'd open again."

Wilts made some notes. "Ville, do you know how you got your concussion?"

"I was screaming." Ville said. "And I was fighting and I tried to get up an he pushed me down and then I hit my head on the back of the headboard and I think I blacked out because when I woke up he was already . . ." His voice cracked, but he fought against the tears.

"Do you think that's enough for tonight?" came a voice from the doorway.

Ville looked up to see April Margera, looking at the detective pointedly. Wilts looked at Ville. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Ville."

I don't care. "Okay."

April waited for the detective to leave before sitting down in the vacated chair. "Bam's okay." she said. "He's just finishing up. He'll be in a few minutes." she promised. "Ville, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. We don't blame you for anything." April reached out and gently patted his hand. "I am so sorry for what happened to you. I never . . . I should have known what was going on in that house. I wouldn't have let--"

"It's okay." Ville said. "I-I didn't want anyone to know. I guess I did a bad job, huh?"

April opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by her son entering the room. "Hey." he said, smiling at his friend.

"You stupid fucking son of a--" But Ville stopped as soon as Bam sat down beside him, throwing his arms around the blue eyed boy. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I didn't go." Bam said, hugging Ville back. "I was only trying to scare you into telling. I thought you might if I--"

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" Ville said, not letting go of the other boy. "I hate you."

"Hate you more."

April had moved out of her chair and was in the doorway when she looked back to see Bam and Ville sharing a light kiss. She was smiling softly as she walked down the hallway, signing the papers to release Ville into her custody.

Bam and Ville separated, resting their foreheads against each other.

"You mad at me?" Bam asked.

"You have no fucking clue."

"You're coming to stay with us. They called your parents and they sent back the fax form like that." Bam snapped his fingers, causing his forehead to smack into Ville's who shoved at him.

"I've still got a concussion, dumbass."

"I didn't mean to, you Finnish fuck."

"I hate you."

"Hate you more."