Hello lovelys! OKAY! So, allow me to explain myself. This update is quite late for several reasons.
Number 1: most of you guys wanted to know what The Truth was. My original idea was that you don't find out what it is, because you haven't gone through what Shawn went through. But, because people wanted to know, I was trying to find a way to put it in. So, it took me a while to get it just right.
Number 2: I couldn't get it just right. I tried, but I liked my original idea too much. So I decided, screw it. It's my FanFic, I've had this plan for a while, I'll just keep it the way I wanted it to be originally.
Number 3: My parents sprung a surprise road trip on me and my brothers. So for the past hmm… week, maybe less, I've been on the road with no internet and my computer packed away at home. So I couldn't upload. I literally just got back home, and the first thing I'm doing is posting this chapter. So… yes. sorry about that.
Still not very fond of this chapter, I even found it a bit confusing. Let me know what you think! Next one will be better, I promise.
Please review! You have all been lovely with your reviews so far and it means so much to me! Please, keep them all coming!
December 28th, 2010
The next time Shawn – at least, he thought he was Shawn – opened his eyes, he was enlightened with The Truth. He understood now. He understood everything. He understood Yin and Yang. He understood what he had to do. He understood everything. It all just made perfect sense to him. All of it. The only thing he was unsure about was… is he Shawn or the Voice in the Nothingness?
He opened his eyes and for the first time in forever, he could see. He could see the room he was locked in. He could see the chair he was sitting on. He could see the rope burns on his skin. He could see his hands move in front of him. Most of all though… he could feel it. He could feel his hands touch each other. He could feel his hands rise into the air and he could feel his hands go through his hair. He took in a deep breath and… ahhh… he could hear it! He could hear himself breath! Oh, how long he had waited for that to happen.
He stood up, and he could feel the weight on his feet. He could feel that beautiful weight! He could feel the pain run through his legs as for the first time in days, he took a step forwards. Then another. And another. He could hear his shoes go against the concrete floor as he took one step after the other. He could feel the weakness in his legs as they trembled under his weight. He could feel his lungs fill with air every time he took a breath. He could feel his heart beat within himself. He could feel it all again. He could hear it all again. He could see, he could smell, he could touch, and he was pretty sure he could taste.
He just kept walking through the room until he came across a door. He put his hand on the doorknob and smiled in delight as he felt the coldness of the metal touch his very delicate skin. He could feel the pressure in his hand as he twisted the door knob. He could hear that beautiful creek of the door as he pushed it open. When the door was open wide enough, he peered inside and could see a whole new scenery. There was a TV, a table and a knife. He almost couldn't believe it anymore.
He walked towards the TV and pushed the first button that his fingers came in contact with. Suddenly, the TV sprung to life. New colours emerged and there was an unusually loud sound that occupied the room. He didn't care though. He was just glad that he could hear something. He then made his way to the table, curious to feel the new texture. When he was standing right by the table, he noticed that his hand grabbed the knife instead. Curious, he held the open blade against his arm. He dug in deep and dragged the blade down. He immediately hissed in pain and slammed the knife back down on the table. Then, he smiled.
He felt that. He actually felt that. It hurt like a bitch, but he felt it! A lot of blood was coming out of the little cut, but he didn't mind. He just watched it flow, so happy to be seeing something other than nothingness. It didn't take long for the coppery smell to reach his nose. And that was just another happy sign. He could smell again. It wasn't the nicest smell in the world, but he didn't care. He could smell! A new idea popped into his head and he brought his bleeding arm to his mouth. He licked his arm and sucked up a bit of the blood, smiling as he did. He could taste it. It had been so long, but yes. He could taste again. So, he kept sucking, more and more, until he felt a bit sick and pulled away. He was feeling something else now. He was feeling sick. He couldn't help but smile.
He turned around to face the TV again. He wanted to focus on something new now. He wanted to focus on the colours that flashed on the screen. Soon, though, the words started to sink in.
"Tragedy strikes in motel. A run down motel on a street corner, last week, had burst into flames claiming four victims" the news reporter said. Suddenly, four images flashed up. He recognised them immediately. Pop, Lassie, Gus, Jules. They were memories of Shawn's. "The fire in the motel was luckily contained on the one floor, saving dozens of lives that day. However, these four people were not so lucky. Henry Spencer, Carlton Lassiter, Burton Guster and Juliet O'Hara all died in the fire. Reports now indicate that this fire wasn't just a simple accident-"
He stopped paying attention then. His loved ones were dead. His family… the one thing keeping him sane were dead. At this point, he knew for a fact that his memories were real. They were the one thing that distinguished him from the voice. The only thing that kept him sane and kept Shawn real were these memories, these people. If they're dead, then what the hell is he supposed to do now? He had fought so hard for Shawn, for his sanity, simply because he knew that these four people were always going to be there for him. But they're dead now. What is he supposed to fight for now?
At this point, Shawn and his memories were becoming more and more like a dream. It was easier that way. It was easier to pretend they were just a dream. Less painful.
"Tragic, isn't it?" a voice called out. He quickly turned around to see where this new sound was coming from. A man. He was wearing a long coat and Stetson. He was fairly tall, a bit taller than him, but not too much. He looked fairly old, but he assumed that with that came knowledge. The man must have been exposed to the same Truth as he was. "Hello" the man said.
"Hello what?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, normally when people say hello to someone for the first time, they'll say 'Hello Shawn or 'Hello Yin'. You know, they'll say 'Hello' and then the person's name. So, what is it for you? Hello what?" he said. The man just smiled at him.
"Hello" the man said again.
He clenched his hands into fists. He was just so frustrated right now. He needed to know! He needed answers! Who was he? Was he Shawn or was he Yin? What about Shawn's memories? Are they real or are they fake? Was Shawn ever real? He needed to know these answers.
"I know your upset now" the man said. "But you'll see, in time you'll thank me."
"Thank you? For what?"
"For getting rid of your memories. It's a lot easier to do what you do when you don't have memories holding you back."
"What are you talking about?" The man pointed to the TV.
"Your memories. They're dead now. And that's the thing with memories, isn't it. if they're dead, if you're the only one who has them… how do you know if they're real or not? How do you know if your memories are real? You'll find it's quite easy to invent a memory. You're better off not knowing which ones are real and which ones are fake."
"Why would I thank you exactly?" the man smiled.
"I'm the one who killed them."
"You… you what?"
"I. Killed. Them."
"You killed my family?"
"I blew them up. A big old BOOM! I think that did the trick."
"You killed them."
"And soon you'll thank me."
He grabbed hold of the knife again. "You killed them!" he yelled.
"You're welcome."
He couldn't contain his frustration anymore. With a scream, he tackled the man to the ground. He brought up the knife as high as he could and brought it down to the man's chest with all his force. He stared into the man's eyes. The man stared straight back at him, a smile on his face. He started to get pissed and brought the knife back up and stabbed again. The smile on the man started to fade away, and he liked it. He kept bringing up the knife again. He kept slamming it down into the man's chest.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
Over and over again. He brought the knife down into his chest, harder and harder. He wanted to make the man suffer. God knows that the man deserved it. The man had killed his family. The man had killed his sanity.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
He brought the knife down again, ignoring the blood that was pouring out and covering him. He just continued to stab. He wanted the man to be a bloody mess by the time he was done. He wanted the man to know that the man deserved this hell. He was so close to understanding who he was. He was so close to being reunited with his memories. So damn close.
And so, he put in one last stab before Shawn came out again.
Shawn stared at the bloody corpse in front of him. Shawn stared at his hands, one still curled around the knife in the man's chest. Shocked, Shawn pulled it out and placed the knife back on the table. He then walked away from the body and found himself leaning against a wall. He pressed his hands and head against it for a moment before turning around and leaning his back against the wall. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He put his head in his hands, not caring if he got some of the man's blood on his face. Shawn just couldn't believe what he had just done.
Shawn killed a man. He murdered the poor man. He stabbed him God knows how many times in the chest. And, worst of all, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed striking the body again and again. He enjoyed watching the smile fade away and the light in his eyes dim out. He enjoyed it. And Shawn hated himself for that. He kept thinking about the man he just killed. Kept thinking about how psychotic he must have been to kill him. Kept thinking about how awful a person he was. He couldn't bear it. Shawn thought back to his memories. Oh, if they could see him now… what would they say about him? They'd say he was psychotic. They'd say he was a murderer. They'd say he was crazy. They'd say-
"They'd say you were Yin" a new voice called out. Shawn looked up and saw a woman walk into the room. She walked towards him with purpose and confidence, a smile glued to her face. She knelt down in front of Shawn. "I know you're afraid right now, but don't be" she assured him. "This is all part of the process. You're just switching between the memories and the voice. Soon, you'll choose one or the other."
Shawn couldn't help but remember one conversation he had with The Voice.
"How could you be Yin and Shawn at the same time? You're one or the other." "Not yet."
Shawn couldn't help but briefly look at the knife on the table. He didn't know who this woman was or what she wanted. He didn't know if she'd turn him in for the murder or help him escape. Shawn wasn't entirely sure which one he preferred, really. All he knew was that without his memories, he was useless. He needed his memories. It was the only way for Shawn to function. But his memories were dead. All his memories were dead. With no memories, there was no Shawn.
"Who are you?" Shawn asked at last.
"That's not important right now" the woman answered.
Sirens started to echo in the distance. The woman stared at the direction of the sound before turning back to Shawn.
"You hear that? That's what's important right now. That's the police. They're here because of… well…" she stared at the dead body. Shawn reluctantly followed her gaze. "I plan on staying with you" the woman continued. "Whether you stay here and deal with the police or if you travel far away and deal with the truth. I'll stay with you." Shawn nodded his head, understanding that the decision was his. "Might I just say, though" the woman added in. "Prison doesn't sound like a fun place." Shawn managed to pull the smallest of smiles before seriously considering his choice. But Shawn was lost. Shawn was gone. And so, he followed the only advice that he could find.
Shawn nodded his head at the woman and stood up. He did was the woman said. He took off his shoes and raided the dead man's pockets until he found a set of keys. He walked out the back doors, quickly finding the white van that the keys belonged to. He climbed into the driver's seat, while the woman sat in the passenger's. They exchanged a brief smile before Shawn started heading for the open road.
He didn't know where he was going. Not yet. All he knew was that he couldn't deal with his dead memories anymore.
If you still really insist on knowing what The Truth is, let me know. I'm a people pleaser in the end.