I don't own it. Can't sue.

Shawn sat on the couch, utterly exhausted. The police had already come through here, asking him so many questions his brain had felt like it would explode. Jonathan had come by at least three times, bringing medicine and bandages to put on Shawn's numerous cuts and bruises. Cory hadn't left Shawn's side since he had first told him what happened.

"You should go to sleep, Shawn. You deserve it. Plus, it's-" Cory glanced at his watch, "Four in the morning. You have to sleep, Shawny."

Shawn drew his legs up to his chest and sat there, staring into space. It was a long while before he finally spoke. "It was my dad, Cor. My own father did this to me."

"It's not like he hasn't done it before." Cory wanted to kick himself as soon as those words left his mouth. Sure, Chet had done this before. More times then he could count. But the last thing Shawn needed was to be reminded of that fact.

"Yeah, but before, he didn't hurt me like this. I never passed out before. He never hit me so hard I wanted to die just to make the pain stop. Maybe...maybe I'm a chicken. A wimp."

Cory was surprised that Shawn-tough, cool Shawn-was calling himself a wimp. "No Shawny, you're no wimp. In fact, you're one of the bravest people I've met. Remember in second grade when your dad broke your arm? You went to school for two days before Feeny finally found out and made you get that cast."

Shawn smiled slightly, remembering. Then his smile turned into a frown. "I had a hard time explaining that to Him. He was so upset..." Shawn shuddered, remembering the following events of that night.

Cory studied Shawn, taking in his ragged appearance. He had seen Shawn like this since they were toddlers, but that didn't mean that he was used to it. When Cory saw Shawn shudder, he put his arm around him,hugging Shawn like a brother. Because Shawn was his brother. Forever.


At the other end of the room, Jonathan Turner was talking to Mr. Feeny. "I'm glad you got here, Feeny. I don't think I would've stayed if you hadn't calmed me down. But God, I wanted to kill that bastard. Still do."

Mr. Feeny nodded in agreement. "Yes, I have done this many a night, usually at the Matthews. The police never seem to be able to catch Chet Hunter, and this same ritual has happened time and time again." Feeny sighed. "I don't know how a boy his age can take it. I remember when he was younger, scrounging in the streets for food, looking for his next meal."

Turner nodded, "Yeah, I knew all that. I knew he neglected the kid, but nobody ever bothered to mention that he was violent." He sighed. "That kid really needs something stable in his life-something he can hold on to. His parents weren't much helped." Jonathan spat the last part out, as if it was a dirty taste in his mouth.

After a few moments, Turner continued. "I don't know what to do with the kid.I don't want to see him end up on the streets or in an orphanage or worse, like this" he looked over at Shawn, his many bruises clearly visible "ever again."

Mr. Feeny bowed his head sagely, "Where ther's a will, there's a way, Jonathan."


Yeah, but is Turner willing to do the way?

I don't know, Mike, maybe you'll have to read the story for a change!

Happy Birthday (Come on, it has to be somebody's birthday out there!) and please review.