Previously on Sleepwalking Hunter…
"Where do you think you're going, buddy?"
"I'm an idiot. He told me. I'm his son!"
"No, Shawn! Wake up. You're dreaming, buddy."
He turned around, finally, his face blotchy and his eyes swollen and red. "What do you wanna talk about?" Shawn asked to Jonathon's annoyance.
"Where'd the blood come from?" He moved Shawn's hands again just to have them rise back there to the centre of his head. "Buddy, c'mon. Just..." Realization struck Jonathon like a bolt of lightning. He budged the boy's hands away once more, this time Jonathon's own hands gliding through Shawn's thick brown hair. He pushed handfuls apart until he found what he was looking for. A scab, the size of a finger, claimed the boy's scalp just a centimeter away from his part. "Ah, kid."
"Because I love you, Shawn."
"He saw me leave. He was drunk, though, he didn't know what he was doing! I just shouldn't have left."
Shawn stood up abruptly, stepping close to the older man, glancing up at him threateningly. His jaw was set, but his eyes were blank, as he brushed his hand across his forehead and lifted his bangs to reveal yet another ugly cut along the length of his temple.
"My dad tells me he cares about me too, Jon! You don't know him like I do. He's not bad all the time!"
"Well, hi there, Teach. Wasn't expectin' to get you on that end."
Shawn held eye contact with Jonathon, unblinkingly staring at him like he was trying to understand him too. He whispered: "He's my dad, Jon."
"Shawny? Shawn, I gotta tell you something, boy."
Jonathon sighed. "Your dad sent me adoption papers."
"How could you do this to me?" He was fighting him with all he had, punching his chest and pushing him, but to no prevail. "I hate you!"
"Okay." Nicky picked up a pen. "So your pops knocks you around?"
"My dad didn't rape me!" He yelled at him, making a b-line for the door and slamming it as hard as he could behind him.
"Just bring him home." He sighed, walking out into the hallway and disappearing.
"Someone's abusing this kid. Whether it's Hunter or Turner or both, I'm gonna figure this out. But I'm telling you right now, buddy, something doesn't smell right."
"You know what makes you such a terrible teacher?"
"He hit me." Jonathon repeated for probably the 12th time to an impatient Mr. Feeny.
Nicky grabbed Jonathon by the throat and swung him up against the wall, pinning him. "What are you doing to him, you sick fuck?!"
"He just keeps on yelling! It's like he doesn't see me. Is he sick?" Chris asked, turning to look at Jonathon.
"Don't be mad at 'em, Hunter. They told me they've got guys out looking for your dad."
"Chet Hunter, you are under arrest for the abuse of Shawn Hunter…"
"Jon, am I gonna be okay?"
"Come on, baby, wake up!" He pushed his hair back, placing a cloth over the boy's damp forehead. "If I ever see your father again, I swear I'll rip his heart right out of his chest. You're just a boy."
Nicky ducked his head, instinctively, just narrowly dodging Shawn's fist. He forced him around again, forcefully bending him over the table, clasping his wrists in his right hand, his left pressing down on his neck. "Cuff him, Chris!"
"You've gotta be kidding me! He took my kid! He has Shawn, Alan!"
"There are worse things in life than beatings."
Nicky hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "No, Eddie Richmond has been arrested for sexual assault of a minor."
"Don't apologize to me, boy!" Chet found himself yelling. He held up his index finger and stabbed it at the air, roughly. "Shawn-y." He lowered his voice. "I don't want you anywhere near here. I don't want you to come back."
"I just wanna die." He admitted, his voice barely audible. "He raped me, Jon! Dad said he loved me, but why didn't he stop them? Why?"
"Ever since the day I was born, he despised me. He'd look at me and all he saw was himself. But I can't speak for him. All I can do is tell you the pain I felt each and every day, growing up as the kid that Chet Hunter was ashamed of. Anyone who knew Chet Hunter could tell you that that was really saying something. He was a drunk and he drove away anyone who ever cared about him, as if that were a weakness.
"I don't remember the first time he laid his hands on me. What I can say for sure is that I don't remember a time that he didn't. He'd beat me with anything he could get his hands on. Sometimes that wasn't on impulse. He'd purchase new…implements that he'd say would really leave a mark. He'd snap my fingers if I'd say something that he disliked; he'd break a rib if I'd done something that he disliked. He would put out his cigarette, his cigar, his blunt on my flesh. He broke lamps and chairs over my head. I've broken both of my ankles, separated a ligament in my knee, fractured my hip, broken three ribs, my collar bone, and my cheekbone and the defendant is to blame for each of these injuries. The first time he locked me in a closet it was for five hours and I was three. When my mother found me, I was…cowering in the corner of the three foot by two foot linen closet, having defecated myself. I was just small enough that I could sit without craning my neck beneath the shelf. Sometimes I found myself…I'd be in there for days.
"Besides the physical pain that Chet Hunter caused me, I have been suffering with emotional and psychological trauma. And this is the pain that I still endure to this day. Until a few months ago, I had spent my entire life believing that I was to blame for the lifetime of abuse that I suffered through. But with the help of several psychiatrists and friends, over the course of several months, I have come to realize that I was an unfortunate victim of the defendant and have learned to accept my past as the past.
"When Chet Hunter told me that it was my fault and that I was worthless, I believed him because he was my father. I use the term 'father' loosely as I believe that a father is none of these things that I have just described to you. I believe that a father looks nothing like this man. I am speaking before you today to ask you, beg you, do whatever it takes to ensure that this man does not appeal to you as a likely candidate for release. As I aforementioned, Chet Hunter has tortured me in ways that I would not wish upon any of you here today, nor anyone else. Therefore, I stress my fear of the likelihood of the defendant turning violent on an innocent…another innocent.
"Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury…I fear for my life, as well as the lives of those whom I love. I can say with much confidence that the defendant is capable of committing further crimes. And so I beg of you, please, do not let this monster free."
Shawn refolded his speech, the paper was lined with creases from countless times of refolding that it was simple to return it back to its original shape. He stepped back from the podium after receiving a nod from Elizabeth and retreated back into the congregation. His eyes averted from the man in the defendant's box, a difficult task due to his bright orange attire.
He moved swiftly out the doors and into the courthouse foyer, his posse falling into step behind him. "How did I do?" He asked, the cool air hitting him through the opened door, drawing on the fact that he was perspiring.
"You did excellent." Elizabeth assured him with a smile.
"Shawn, I'm really proud of you." Jonathon said, running his hand through his hair and letting it sit on the back of his neck.
"Thanks." Shawn pressed his lips together, the nausea he had been feeling since he had gotten out of bed that morning finally settling. "I'm glad I did it."
"I told you that you wouldn't regret it. His whole defense is a stretch but just in case, it really helps that the jury hears your point of view and the influence it had on you." She said, reaching for the shoulder of the boy beside her. "Both of your victim impact statements made a huge impact on the prosecution of your father."
One month prior…
Shawn wasn't the coolest kid at John Adams High anymore. He wasn't cool, but he sure was popular. Everyone was always staring at him. Everyone was always offering him a shoulder to cry on. There weren't any tears left to cry and so in response to their pity, he fought.
He was supposed to be doing better. At least, that is what the mental health brochure his therapist gave him argued. There were five stages of grief, but no one had any advice for a guy who was going through all five at once.
"Cor, I swear to God if you ask me if I'm okay one more time, I will make your left eye match the blackness of your right."
A large grin spread across Cory's face. "You just fell off your skateboard and there is blood running down your leg but fine then! Suck it up, maggot!"
Shawn felt his face get hot. "Oh…sorry."
"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, I haven't mentioned anything since the night you almost blinded me, which was months ago!"
Shawn cracked a smile. "That was Tuesday."
"The month of Tuesday! Forever ago, man!"
"Hey, I said I was sorry." But without even glancing at Cory he knew that it didn't suffice. He owed him an explanation, however, unfortunately he didn't really have one. Even more unfortunate, the truth was his only option.
"Whatever…" Cory picked up his skateboard and began rolling a wheel between his fingers. "My dad already told me everything, anyway."
"WHAT?!"
"What? Did you wanna tell me?"
Shawn shrugged.
"Exactly."
Shawn stood up and unfastened his helmet. "One question. You can ask me one question and then you have to drop this entirely."
Cory studied him for a second then spoke. "Why didn't you trust me enough to confide in me? I could've helped you and you know it."
He closed his eyes. Nothing he said would be suffice unless it was the truth. He hated the truth. He spent his lifetime not telling it and now it was all that came out of his mouth. Every thought, every feeling, every care he'd ever had, now had some sort of relevance. He liked being in his own head and staying out of everybody else's. "Because all I wanted in the world was to be with my dad."
"Is that still what you want?"
He turned his back on him. "All I want in the world is to be happy."
Cory didn't miss a beat. "Then it's a good thing you're with me." He smacked Shawn's helmet off of his head and made a break away for the house. As he rounded the corner, he could hear his parents arguing in the kitchen, through the open window.
"Amy, what else was I supposed to do? He was going to get out!"
"You don't know that! And I love Shawn just as much as you do, but we really can't afford the most prestigious P.I. in the state of Pennsylvania!"
"We have the money just sitting there, we can pay it back. This is worth it, Amy!
"You should have talked this over with Jonathon first…Oh, and with your wife!"
"I had to act fast! He will come after Shawn if we don't come up with some evidence to keep him in his cage."
"In his cage? Are you listening to yourself?"
"I was about to ask you the same question."
A cupboard door slammed and he jolted, but he was too intrigued to move on.
"Well, you better talk to Shawn first, before you go digging up more skeletons in his closet. All I know, is he seemed a lot happier before everyone discovered his past."
His father scoffed. "Yeah, he seemed happier."
He heard shuffling behind him and turned to find Shawn standing there, his helmet in hand, leaning against the far wall. His eyes were wide and sad looking as he shared a look with Cory, slowly allowing his head to hit the back wall, hopelessly.
GLAD YOU RETURNED FOR MORE SHAWN-TURNER ANGST! I'VE GOT LOADS OF IDEAS SO PLEASE STAY TUNED AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!
Note: Just in case you were confused, the first part was made up of scenes taken from the original "Sleepwalking Hunter" to be a little flashback to remind you of everything that took place. I imagined it to appear like the opening of a TV drama. Hope you caught that :)