I JUST WANT TO SAY THANKS TO ALL MY READERS, THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED, IN PARTICULAR SARA, YOU'RE SO SWEET! I'M GLAD YOU ENJOY MY STORY AND IT REALLY MEANS A LOT THAT SO MANY HAVE READ IT. I CAN'T EVEN EXPRESS IN WORDS HOW EXCITED I AM. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER. I'VE BEEN PLANNING IT OUT FOR WEEKS IN MY HEAD AND IT JUST KIND OF FLOWED OUT IN SUCH A WAY. I COULDN'T DECIDE IF I WAS OKAY WITH THESE EVENTS BUT I THINK IT HELPS US SEE WHO SHAWN REALLY IS. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND, WELL, ENJOY!

NOTE: Beware. If descriptions of abuse offend you please don't read, it gets kind of graffic.

Shawn could feel his lips quivering. He wanted so much to believe Jonathon and Nicky, but it was in his DNA not to trust cops and figures of authority. "But…Jon, what if he hates me?"

Jonathon opened his mouth but no words came out. He was looking at Nicky, who was standing at his desk behind him.

"Jon! You know he will! You know it! I can't do this. It's not worth it!"

"Of course it's worth it." Nicky's voice wasn't nearly as exasperated as the other two were. He was calm, probably used to dealing with screw ups and basket cases like Shawn. "You know your dad better than me or your friend here do. You know how he feels better than I can guess. Shawn, if he doesn't care about you enough to accept help, then he's never going to stop. You don't deserve that."

Two men now having told him he's alright and still it meant nothing. It wasn't coming from the right person. It meant nothing unless it came from his father. "The only thing I can't handle is…"

"Your dad not being around?" Nicky finished his sentence, the one that Shawn had regretted admitting aloud and stopped.

"Shawn, just tell him what you told me." Jonathon seemed to have finally found his words.

"I can't."

"I'm just going to ask you some questions and all you have to do is answer what you feel comfortable." Nicky tried to assure him.

"I can't!"

"What if your friend left?" Nicky offered, talking about Jon.

Shawn thought about it. Jon was his buddy, he gave him a place to sleep, and they talked about stuff. He'd cook for him, check his homework, throw a ball around with him, hug him, tell him he cares about him, and yet it still felt wrong to Shawn. He was embarrassed that he couldn't control the tears once he started getting upset. He was mortified that he acted out his nightmares in his sleep for Jonathon to witness. He could live with him and Jonathon just being buddies, without all of the mush. Maybe he didn't have to hear any more of this after all. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jon and Nicky said in unison.

Jonathon didn't seem as offended as Shawn thought he would. He almost looked relieved and Shawn decided that he'd made the right choice. Jonathon approached him, clutched Shawn's shoulders and told him: "If you need me, I'm right outside that door. You're gonna be okay, Hunter." And with that he turned and left the room.

Nicky sat down again and Shawn followed suit, feeling a little less pressure now that they were alone. It didn't matter what strangers thought about him. Shawn never cared much about what anyone thought about him, but for some reason he cared a lot about what Jonathon thought. He didn't like that look he gave him when he failed a test or neglected to hand in an assignment. He hated the look he was giving him while he watched him breaking down. He couldn't disappoint him.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, so then are you ready?"

Shawn nodded.

"Okay." Nicky picked up a pen. "So your pops knocks you around, your friend said. What does he mean by that? What does your dad do to you?"

"He, um…he hits me."

"With his hand, fist, something else?"

"Yeah."

Nicky's eyes narrowed. "Yeah to which one?"

"All of them," said Shawn, feeling his face get hot.

Nicky pressed his lips together. "What would something else be?"

"Anything."

Nicky put his pen to paper and the scratching noise made Shawn feel even more uncomfortable. Every few seconds he'd take a long hard look at Shawn and then continue to write about him. Jot down his claims like a bad sketch. "Did your dad ever hurt you really bad that you had to go to the hospital?"

Shawn had to think really hard. He remembered a few hospital trips, one with his uncle Mike when he sliced off his own fingertip with a paring knife. Another couple times with Cory. And he could remember going with his mom when he was younger, but he couldn't remember why. "I don't know. My dad always said: 'Doctors? Well they're just salesmen in bathrobes!'" Shawn lowered his voice and turned on his best southern accent, impersonating his father's.

Nicky frowned and made another note in his file. "Let me rephrase that. Has your dad ever broken any of your bones or done something you thought was really serious?"

"You have my hospital records. You know all of this already."

Nicky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, according to this you haven't even had a booster shot." He held up his hand to stop Shawn from retorting. "No, I get it. Your mom unreliable, your dad unemployed, you live between the lines. I'm not here to discuss ethics, at least not about that."

Shawn was relieved he didn't have to make up a lie about the mystery doctor that made house calls, took money under the table, and provided some sort of documentation to his school. All he knew about him was that somehow he was his uncle. "Alright, well, I've broken my arm a couple of times."

"How?"

"He pushed me. He bent it weird and…I don't remember really." Shawn ducked his head, regretting the first part of that sentence.

"Besides hitting you, did your dad ever hurt you in another way?"

"What do you mean?" He could feel his heart begin to race.

"I mean, did your dad ever touch you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?" Nicky was beginning to look uncomfortable himself.

"What do… what do you mean?" Shawn was feeling like he was going to be sick. He didn't anticipate these kinds of questions. He was regretting every choice he'd made that day.

Nicky changed gears. "Does he drink a lot?"

"Yeah." He answered quietly.

"Do you know what alcohol does to people when they're intoxicated?"

Shawn was having trouble breathing. He'd changed his mind. He wanted Jonathon. He wanted him to be there with him. He wanted him to take him home, to get on his Harley and just forget everything. He wanted out of this room, it was suffocating him. "Yeah." He jumped up angrily, almost tipping over his chair. "But 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.