Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. If I did, I'd totally write myself into an episode as Shawn's long lost cousin … or something.

A/N: Wow! Eight reviews last chapter! That's the most I've ever gotten since joining this site a little over a year ago. Still have a small ways to go of topping my (completed) story high for reviews of 56. Hopefully by the time this is completed, I'll be past that. :)

And Shawn might be a little OOC for a bit, just because of everything that's been going on. He won't be as witty, because, well he's in prison for murder. Get it?

Enjoy C6.


Chapter 6

~ Flashback – 1986 ~

Henry Spencer sat in his truck and deeply sighed. It had been a long day, and as of 30 minutes, only got worse. He got out of his vehicle and slowly walked the few feet to his house. The light above the kitchen sink was on, but other than that, it was dark. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer but decided against it and chose water instead then made his way to the couch.

Sitting down, Henry reached over to flip on the side table lamp on before turning back around and being met face to face with his son, Shawn.

"Shawn, what are you doing up?" he questioned. "Its almost midnight."

"Sorry, Dad. I wanted to make sure you came home okay." young Shawn said in an innocent voice. But Henry wasn't fooled.

"Alright, hand it over." young Shawn got up and walked the couple feet to his father before handing over a VHS.

"What did I tell you about watching these kinds of movies?" he asked holding up the box that said "Prison Riot".

"That I could as long as I didn't pee myself in bed?" Shawn tried.

"Uh, not even close. Come here." Shawn sat down next to his Dad and waited for his to continue. "The things they show in these movies aren't real. There aren't evil wardens who suck the life out of the inmates. You want to know what is real?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to find out anyway," Shawn answered.

Henry started, "Today I went to visit an old friend who has been serving a life sentence. He and I use to do every thing together until one day he snapped and killed his old man. He always told me he didn't do it, that he was set up. He said he loved his father even though he disowned him years ago.

"But when I got to the prison, I was informed that he was dead. Killed by another inmate who was already on death row. I went there to tell him that I found an old letter written to him from his father. I can guess what it was about, but the main thing is he died believing that his Dad never loved him. He died in that place knowing that all the people he cared about and loved thought of him to be a murder.

"What I want you to know is that, no matter what happens or what kind of situation you find yourself in, always know that your friends and family love you and believe you. You can survive anything as long as you never stop believing that. Do you understand?"

"Uh, I think so." Shawn replied while yawning.

"Good. Get to bed, I need your help tomorrow."

"g'night, Dad." the younger Spencer said leaving.

"Good night, kiddo."

~ End Flashback ~

Shawn Spencer was worried. He was scared out of his mind and he was real close to going insane. He'd been led, not at all gently, to his cell which he had to himself. For that he was kinda glad. One less thing to worry about.

He lay on his bed made up of a mattress that couldn't have been an inch thick and a pillow that smelt really bad. One sink a toilet completed the rest of his space he now called home. But he couldn't call it that. They say home is where the heart is, but there was no heart here whatsoever.

Shawn was thinking. He thought about the looks that the rest of the inmates gave him as he was first led into the Penitentiary and that alone sent shivers down his spine.

A loud horn sounded and the bard doors slid open. A man's voice came over a loud speaker saying for the inmates to slowly walk out of their cells and head to the East doors and to the Mess Hall. It was lunch time.

Shawn complied and follow suit, noticing the heavily armed guards that stood outside their path. They all wore the same navy blue uniforms, topped with an official hat. Their faces were emotionless but their eyes carefully watched the incarcerated men. All of them held semi automatics close to their body, fingers hovering over the trigger waiting to attack.

The next things he knew, he was going through the lunch line. He picked up a worn and cracked and faded (and moldy? No, he was seeing things. He hoped.) tray, placed a paper plate on it a grabbed a plastic fork. The men behind the counter had hairnets on their head and gloves on their hand while they served the men their food.

Shawn got up to the first man and asked with his plate up, "Could I get a bacon cheeseburger? Or maybe some jerk chicken?" the man's response was a spoonful of something that was gray and unidentifiable. "I'll take it your all out," he said and walked down the rest of the line receiving the rest of his meal. A man behind the psychic bumped into him, which caused Shawn to fall and spill the contents of his tray onto the floor and himself.

A few of the other men in line started laughing and jeering at him while he sat there on the floor in the mess.

"Newbie here needs a bath,"

"Guy can't even stay on his feet."

"Your holding up the damn line, jerk."

Shawn stood up slowly, careful to avoid eye contact. He wiped the mess off of his orange jumpsuit best he could until he saw a black hand show up in his vision with napkins. He took them with a thanks before looking up.

"Names Jake." the other man held out a hand which Shawn shook.

"Uh, Shawn," he said and sighed.

"C'mon. I'll share my lunch." Jake walked over to an empty spot where a tray of foot lay only slightly touched. He pushed the meal over to Shawn when he sat down and waited for him to eat.

"Thanks man," Shawn said taking a fork full of he didn't know what. When he put it in his mouth his first instinct was to gag it back up. But he didn't. He literally had to force himself to allow his muscles in his throat to swallow the food down and when he did, he started to feel sick. The look of disgust on his face clearly must've given him away because Jake started to snicker.

"I'm afraid you get used to it after awhile. I swear whatever they cook here burns your taste buds off."

Shawn coughed before replying, "How long is 'awhile'"?

"I've been here eight years and can still taste it. But only a little," Jake said with a hint of a smile. Shawn tried his best to do the same, but instead took the slice of bread and slid the tray of food back to its owner. Aforementioned bread was stale at best, but at that moment, Shawn was glad to have anything on his stomach at all.

Five minutes later, everyone is the Mess Hall was ordered to get up and leave before all being led to their respective cells. Shawn turned around to thank Jake again, but found that the man had been moved to another line on the other side of the room. A tall man whose arms were as big as his head came into view and asked in a deep voice, "What're you gawking at Twinkle Toes?" Feeling small, Shawn quickly muttered a "nothing", before briskly walking the last ten feet to his own cell.

He shakingly sat down on his bed and waited for the door to slide shut. The rest of the day was uneventful to say the least, save his dinner being brought in and slid through an opening at the bottom of the bell. And it was now light out, Shawn had completely lost all sense of time. He did his best to get comfortable but nothing seemed to work in the least bit.

It was dark minus a few lights on in the middle and corners of the giant area and empty on the outside save around seven or eight guards. Shawn lay in his bed, unmoving and staring at the ceiling until his mind drifted off and he fell asleep.

It felt like only seconds passed before a horn sounded that caused Shawn was awake and he felt awful, to put it lightly. His back was stiff and he had a knot in his shoulder and he was sure he was a crock in his neck the size of Florida.

A few minutes later, a guard showed up with a tray of food. Breakfast was severed and it actually looked more promising than his last meal. Shawn could at least identify what had to be eggs, bacon and toast. And a bottle of apple juice to boot.

He dove greedily at his meal, completely ignoring the fork to his right. The eggs and bacon went first, followed closely by the plain toast. He washed it down the the juice and sighed when everything was gone. He wiped his mouth the the thin napkin that was given and pushed the tray to the side, not having a need or want for it anymore.

He looked up and saw that a good sized book was left as well. The cover had long since been gone so he didn't know the title, and the pages were stained and torn, but he was grateful for something to at least help him try and pass the time.

He took the book to his bed a flipped it to the first readable page. After what had to have been only a few minutes, the words on the pages began to blur together. It felt like the world was spinning and soon the book fell to the floor with a muffled thud.

Shawn's breathes became more rapid and the sound of his heart beating reached his ears all too clearly. He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't hold him and he crashed to the cold floor instead. The last thing he remembered was how this wasn't like the last time he got poisoned.

A/N: * hides behind oak desk * Its short, I know. And I'm sorry for that, but I'm fighting writers block with this and my internet has been fuzzy at best. Review?