First of all, I want to thank you all for your wonderful reviews! You guys are truly the best! I get so excited to read what you have to say :) This chapter's a little shorter and sorry for that, but this one was slowly developing in my mind and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. Expect the next chapter very soon, becaussssseeeee... I"M ON SUMMER BREAK NOW! WOOOO FREE TIMEEEE! :):):)

ALSO, I'VE DECIDED TO PUBLISH SOME OTHER STORIES THAT I'VE BEEN WORKING ON HAVING TO DO WITH OTHER SHOWS NOW THAT I HAVE THE TIME. THE ONE I JUST POSTED A FEW MOMENTS AGO IS BASED ON THE SHOW 'THE BLACK DONNELLYS' WHICH WAS CANCELLED A FEW YEARS AGO, BUT WAS ABSOLUTELY EXCELLENT AND UNDERRATED. YOU CAN WATCH FULL EPISODES ON YOUTUBE, BUT TO GET A TASTE AND MY POINT OF TALKING ABOUT IT ON HERE, READ MY FANFICTION, ENTITLED: 'THE ONES THAT HURT TOMMY' AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! Thanks guys, I really appreciate it!

Enjoy! And Happy Monday! :)

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been four years since my last confession and these are my sins… I haven't been here in a while. I haven't received Holy Communion since I lived at home. Every time I tried to come to Confession, I'd end up wussing out. I'm a bad person. I don't help people. I hurt them. I don't trust anyone. I feel… like they're all trying to come at me in some way, so I hurt them first. To be truthful, I sometimes wonder if I'm capable of loving… b-because I'm so quick to hurt the people that care about me. I've been unchaste, which is just a classic example, since all I seem to know how to do with a woman is bring her home and then never call her again. I've come to a point where I don't know why I keep on living, but… I'm terrified of what God will do to me if I…I—"

"Kill yourself." The priest finished his sentence, as if he actually understood.

"Because that's a sin… And I've done such terrible things. He…He must hate me."

Nicky was shaking so vigorously by the time he finished speaking that he wondered how he still managed to kneel on the hassock or for how much longer he'd last for. His heart was in his throat and upon wishing he hadn't come, he hoped he wouldn't have to speak again.

"First of all, son, God doesn't hate. God invented hate because he gave us a choice between good and evil. God's love for you is unconditional. The question you must ask yourself is whether you love God. Do you?"

"I…I don't know. He wasn't there. When I was being… Uh, there's something else… I, um… influenced a man's murder."

The priest went silent and Nicky began to feel dizzy.

"Father?"

"Influenced?"

Nicky swallowed hard. "Um, well… This guy, he… did some really bad things and I arrested him."

"So you're a police officer?"

"Yeah, I'm a detective. But this guy he raped this boy, his own brother, and hurt him really bad. I told some guards who spread the word of what he did and the inmates killed him. I bet it would've come out sooner or later, but…but I did it. I started it."

"Did you know that they would kill him when you spread the rumour?"

Nicky felt himself getting angry and wondered if he truly were sorry for doing it. "I didn't spread any rumours! I told the truth. I knew he would get what was coming to him. I wanted that."

"But now you don't?"

"No, I just don't want to feel like I had a part in it."

There was another pause. "Do you think you would feel this way if you hadn't said anything and he died, but you believed it was what was coming to him?"

"What?"

The priest cleared his throat. "Are you capable of hating someone so much that you wish them pain and death?"

Nicky was no longer kneeling on the hassock. He found himself sitting with his back against the confessional partition, hugging his knees to his chest. "He hurt me" was all he could think of to say in his defence.

"God hurt you?" The priest sounded uncertain of him.

"Does he hate me?"

After another agonizing pause, the priest finally replied with a response that made Nicky more lost than he'd ever been. "No, my child. God still doesn't hate you."

Shawn was still shuddering in the corner of his bedroom when Jonathon returned with the cordless phone.

He stalled in the doorway, studying the boy before shuffling across the floor to crouch before him. "Shawn? Hey, look at me." Jonathon reached out his hand, brushing Shawn's hair away from his eyes so he could see him.

In response, Shawn glared at him and looked away.

"Shawn, I'm gonna call the police. Are you okay with that?"

Shawn sniffled and released a shaky breath. "You don't even believe me."

"Of course I do! Give me a minute to understand this, buddy. If you say there was someone in your room, then I believe you, but…" Jonathon shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "It wasn't Eddie."

Shawn grasped Jonathon's forearm, tightly, with both hands. "He said he was gonna kill me! He said he was gonna make me pay! I don't care who it was, Jon, I just don't want him to come back!"

Jonathon leaned forward, falling to his knees and pulling the boy's head into his chest. He kissed his forehead, before raising the phone to his ear. "I'm calling the police."

***ONE HOUR LATER***

"Jon!" It was Chris, who hurried through the open door, flashing his badge at the uniform standing guard.

The place was crawling with cops and Jonathon realized that this was the second crime scene he'd attended with Shawn, the first one being behind the apartment complex where they found him beaten to near an inch of his life.

"Hey! Step back! Make room for forensics." A woman's voice commanded, Jonathon not bothering to locate its owner.

"Chris?" In his mind he was moving toward him, but physically he remained where he was seated, his arm wrapped around Shawn's shoulders protectively.

Chris bounded into the living room, directing a guy with a duffle bag over his shoulder toward Shawn's bedroom with a nod of his head. He sat directly across from Shawn on top of the coffee table. "Hey, buddy, I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

Jonathon watched the look of anticipation on Chris' face for a moment too long, causing him to peer down at Shawn and jerk his arm slightly to get his attention. "Shawn, Chris isn't talking to me."

"When will they leave me alone?" Shawn blurted out suddenly, Jonathon only just becoming privy to the tormenting thoughts filling Shawn's head like fog that must have been occurring that whole time they were sitting there.

Chris was on the ball. "Shawn, take a deep breath. We're here to keep you safe, kiddo. It'll be okay."

Jonathon couldn't imagine Shawn trusting Chris with that statement, thinking the same thing as Shawn when he said: "Then why can't you stop him from coming into my room when I'm sleeping?"

Chris looked from Shawn to Jonathon. "Him? Who's him?"

"He initially said it was Eddie in his room, but I told him why that couldn't have been." Jonathon felt uncomfortable mentioning it, as if he were implying a supernatural intruder had terrorized his foster son and everything the police dusting for fingerprints and other evidence was useless.

"And there's no chance that you were just dreaming, is there?"

Shawn opened his mouth, but Jonathon immediately held up his hand, silencing him.

"He was awake when I came in the room. That's never happened before. He was out of his bed, his window was wide open, and the screen was out." He glanced at Shawn, who was clenching his fists in his lap. "I believe him."

Chris leaned forward, nodding. "So do I. Alright." He stood. "I'm gonna go take a look around. Don't worry, Shawn. We'll take care of you."

Jonathon stood as well, leaving Shawn's side for the first time since he found him cowering in his room. "Hey, Chris, um…where's Nicky? He should be here, shouldn't he? I mean, he cares about Shawn, doesn't he?"

Chris put a hand on Jonathon's shoulder. "He does care about Shawn. He's taking care of something, but don't worry, I'll make sure he's here."

Jonathon felt, one at a time, each of his own fists ball up. "Don't worry? How 'bout you try not talking down to me, alright? He wasn't there yesterday, he's not here now. Is there something you ought to tell me?"

Chris very blatantly rolled his eyes, ran his hand over his mouth, and as though he were avoiding it, he looked at Jonathon like a bomb that was about to detonate. "I can't find him." He turned on his heels and quickly scoped Shawn's bedroom, before carrying off downstairs to his car.

He was going to find Nicky and when he did, he was going to kill him.

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