“I can't believe you talked me into going to the hospital with you. Do you know how long it took me to get to the police station?" Benjamin whined for the hundredth time as he drove up the road.
“How old are you?" I asked him finally.
His whining reminded me of someone even younger than seventeen and I found myself dying to know.
“I am eighteen," he said so indignantly it was obvious he was lying.
“Okay, now tell me the truth," I said to him.
His face flushed for a moment then he looked over at me before finally answering. “Sixteen."
I nodded not shocked by this revelation. “Where are your parents?"
His eyes misted over, and I had my answer. I put my free hand on his shoulder while the other one kept the towel on my leg.
“I'm so sorry, Benjamin."
He nodded and kept driving.
