Chapter 2
The days were growing shorter and Shawn's sleeves were growing longer as the weather got colder. He liked the feeling of being bundled up, he sort of felt like he could hide inside of himself that way or something. When he got home from school he would lock himself inside of his bedroom and just flop down on his bed and hide under the covers for a bit, ignoring everything outside of his childish little fort. He didn't move, he didn't sleep, he just hid out for awhile. Jon assumed he was doing his homework and eventually he would, but not until much later in the night while once again forgoing sleep. It was easier to sleep through nightmares when completely exhausted, he didn't want to risk waking up Jonathan with his screaming.
Things weren't bad, realistically things were going very well for Shawn. Better than ever, maybe. So why did he feel so empty all of the time? Perhaps because he knew he didn't deserve this nice life outside of the trailer park, he didn't deserve stability. Why on earth did Jon even take him in? This situation would have to end eventually, and it would be easier to just go ahead and cut ties now before anyone got too attached. But Shawn couldn't seem to make himself run away this time. He liked his life. He just didn't like the person who was living it. He was never a big fan of himself, but lately his self-hatred was growing stronger every day. Cory started spending more and more time with Topanga and Shawn started spending more and more time on his own. Lonely Shawn was a perfect recipe for a disaster. He didn't like to sit around and think but that's all that he did lately.
One night when Jon was out on a date and Shawn was completely alone with his thoughts, he somehow found himself with a razor blade in his right hand positioned against his left wrist, locked inside sitting on the bathroom floor. He knew people did this, mostly teenage girls, but he always thought they were just stupid attention seekers. But it was all starting to make sense now, everything going on in his mind was all just too much to handle and he was wondering if perhaps this razor blade was more than just something to use to shave with, maybe it was something he could use to could slow his thoughts. He made one sad little swipe across, barely breaking his skin before he heard the front door open and panicked. There was not one bit of blood, but he freaked out, running his wrist under the sink and stuffing the blade in his jeans pocket.
"Shawn?" calls out Jonathan, knowing he wouldn't be asleep at nine o'clock. Shawn looked down at the pathetic little scratch on his wrist and decided it wouldn't be overly noticeable. He practically runs straight into Jon when he opens the bathroom door. "Oh, sorry!" he stumbles, quickly tucking his arm behind him. "I was just… brushing my teeth. How was your date?"
Jon smiles, glad not to have to come home to an empty apartment after a crappy date. "It was fine, did you get yourself something to eat?"
"Yeah, I made some macaroni and cheese," Shawn lies, not having had eaten a thing and not the least bit hungry.
"Okay, well, I'm exhausted so I'm going to go on to bed. Don't stay up too late."
Shawn nods and heads to his room, taking the blade out of his pocket and putting it in his desk drawer. He knows he won't be going to sleep for a very long time.
"You're late," states Chet Hunter, sitting on the couch glaring at Shawn standing by the trailer door he had just entered.
"I-I'm sorry, Dad, I was just doing some homework with Cory," Shawn stutters.
"What's the point in that? You'll always be a dumbass anyway."
Shawn tries not to take his words to heart. He's just drunk, he doesn't mean it. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says again. He starts to head in the direction of his bedroom but Chet stops him, grabbing him by his wrist. "Sorry don't cut it my boy, you should've been here fixing your daddy supper."
Shawn bites his lip, "I'll make it now, just let go of my arm, Dad."
"I'll let go when I feel like letting go, Shawny," he says, giving it a twist and doesn't let go until Shawn yelps in pain. "Dad, you broke my freaking wrist!"
"Maybe you should have thought about consequences before you spent all of that time at little Corky's house," Chet huffs, grabbing his beer bottle off of the side table and stumbling to his bedroom showing no remorse. Shawn curls up on the floor against the sofa, holding his wrist and sobbing alone.
Shawn wakes in a sweat, breathing heavy. His eyes dance around the room, taking in his surroundings. 'Not real, not real,' he thinks to himself. He's not in the trailer park anymore, he's in Mr. Turner's apartment. In his room. What he just had was a dream, not a reality. Although it was more of a flashback than anything. He picks up his watch on the side table and checks the time. 4 AM. He'd only slept an hour or so, still some time to kill before school. He sighs and gets up. Time to pace around the apartment for a bit.