RUN LIKE A RIVER.

PROLOGUE

The sunlight that spilled through the gaps of the curtain greeted him most mornings, usually without fail. When he woke, November 9th 1981, he was faced with a seldom palpable silence that settled heavily in his room. The familiar bangs and clangs of pans and kitchen utensils were absent that morning. The house was dead still.

In that fall, Post Falls would forever be inflicted with irreversible grief and tainted with an unspeakable crime. The boy, however, would be relocated far, far away into a variety of different foster homes and to never speak of that day again. Although whether or not he recalled the events that occurred that day was unknown. He would never speak.

In the Winter of 1991 in Silver Spring, Maryland, River sat silently in an office he revisited weekly. His eyes hidden by dirty blond curls spilling across his forehead, wavy and loose here and there. A woman in her mid 40's stared at him wordlessly. She took in his scrawny appearance and his lifeless complexion. Yet, he had gorgeous big green doe eyes and a deep hinge of a jaw.

"What's his name?" A woman asked, her lips pulled into a thin line.

"River. He has no recorded last name," A young man answered, he had been attempting to give the boy a family to stay with for the past three months. River never remembered his name despite the amount of times he reintroduced himself.

"How did that even happen?" She asked, disbelief in her tone.

"Not sure, ma'am. His birthday and previous family members are also unavailable or lost in the system."

The woman sighed, her eyes landed on the boy pitifully. "How old is he?"

"Not sure, we've estimated around 12."

"I'm sixteen," The boy spoke. They both went silent, not expecting the deep voice that escaped the boy's lips.

"You know how old you are?"

"I'm not brain dead," He replied, his speech slow and careful. The young man's eyes widened, his features drowned in guilt.

"Of course not, sir. Do you happen to know any other information that's missing from your file?" He asked hesitantly, almost treating the boy as a dangerous creature not to be reckoned with.

River didn't say another word.

Over the following weeks, the young man who River learned his name to be Adam, had been trying to obtain information from him ever since he knew of his ability to speak. It had been put in his records that he was in fact, mute. Although, it had become apparent that he wasn't mute due to trauma or any medical cause; He was just unwilling to speak.

"River, there's a family interested in taking you in but I need some information from you for your profile," Adam pleaded, a few days after he turned 17. River knew he would only have to stick it out for another year until he was unqualified to be in the foster system and Adam was very aware of that fact. River remained silent.

"River, we may have information on your parents if you just cooperate with us," Adam said. River knew he was trying to manipulate him, and that only made him angry. A pool of heat brewed in his stomach as his knuckles turned white, his grip on the arm chairs tightening. River knew exactly what happened to his parents, he saw his whole world fall apart right in front of him. He was only 6-years-old. His childhood became a repetitive cycle of moving between houses and different, unfamiliar faces.

"Do you know your parents?"

"Do you know where you're from?"

"Do you remember your life before the foster system?"

"Do you know who you are?"

Adam had become insensitive with his questions, River's silence only caused him more frustration and alas, he had no empathy for the boy. He had a job to do and River was unwilling to make it any easier for him. Months would go by and not a single family had wanted River. Adam would occasionally lie about a family who was interested to create a false sense of hope, but River knew better than to trust that man. He found it difficult to trust others as it is.

It was 1993 when he was let out. Although they didn't know the exact date he was born, they came to the conclusion that he would have already turned 18 by the time he was released. River felt something he hadn't experienced before. It was like a rope that had tied his arms together, that restricted him and held him hostage had been cut off and he can finally move again.

Then, the days multiplied since he got out of foster care. It was dark, and River felt like he's been awake for weeks. His eyes ached, and his head pounded. Everything felt very far away and shockingly close and real at the same time—The foster homes, and his family, and the memories. It all felt like it happened years ago, and simultaneously like he was about to get sucked back into it at any second. Like it hasn't actually ended. And River wanted so desperately for it to be over.

None of it felt free. It was lonely, it was unfair. Silver Spring seemed endless and it was unclear where it began and where it ended. He doesn't know how he wounded up asleep beside a 7-Eleven but he does remember the jolt he felt in his chest when a hand gripped his arm and he was met with a blurred unfamiliar face staring down at him.

"You alright?" The deep voice asked. River blinked a few times, trying to regain his vision. River noticed their skin was darker than his own but their eyes were an even darker shade of brown.

"Huh?"

The voice laughed and then River saw it, a smile. Toothy and charming as ever. "I'm Eliot Eastwood, and you are?"

River knew that name. Everyone knew that name, especially if you live in Silver Spring. He was the town's Golden boy. His Dad was a politician and he was an actor in which had starred in several hollywood films. River felt insignificant in his presence. He felt small.

"River."

"River? Just River?" Eliot asked amusedly, his dark hair fell over his eyes as stood up.

He smiled without realising. "Just River."

Eliot gripped his bicep, hoisting River up to his feet. He asked him where he lived, River just shrugged. Because only a week prior he was kept within Foster Care and then it was gone, just like that. "Do you really not have a last name?" Eliot asked as they walked along Georgia Avenue. River shrugged again; He didn't feel like being some celebrities charity case.

"I might. I just don't remember what it was."

Eliot smiled to himself. "Maybe we could give you one?"

"We?"

Eliot laughed and pat River's shoulder. "You'll see."