"Shawn! You have twenty boxes of crap up in the attic! Come and get what you want or else I'm throwing it all out!" Henry barked into the phone.
"Fine, fine, I'll be there this afternoon."
Shawn arrived late, around 5 PM. His dad directed him up to the attic immediately. Shawn protested, but his dad kept on nagging.
"We can have dinner when you're done," Henry told him.
Shawn spent about an hour looking through boxes when he came across one that he'd never seen before. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sat down with the box in his lap. He flipped open the top and was surprised to see sixty or seventy polaroids. He picked one up and looked in horror. It was his mom, but with blood caked on her face and her nose swollen. There was another one where she had a black eye. And another that showed finger-shaped bruises on her upper arm. There was one that she took in the mirror of her bare back, which was covered in bruises in various stages of healing. Rage bubbled up as Shawn realized that there were another sixty or so pictures of his mom, beaten. He rushed downstairs with the box.
"What the hell is this?" he bellowed at his dad.
"What is it Shawn?" his dad sounded fed up already.
"Look at it." Henry did, and his face quickly paled. A realization hit Shawn like a ton of bricks. "Did you do this?"
"What! No! Of course not."
"I don't believe you," Shawn snatched the box away and stormed out.