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One - Stacy
He was five the first time his father came home drunk.
His father had been touchy with Shawn, the only one home at the time, resting his hand on Shawn’s shoulder while he drank. Shawn had been eager to the touch at first. Chet wasn’t one for physical touch - that didn’t come until later in Shawn’s life - so it was a rare occurrence whenever Chet touched one of his children lovingly.
It was 9:00 at night when Virna and Stacy had gotten home. Eddie was still out, probably doing something illegal. Chet was onto his fifth beer of the night. Shawn was sat on the couch next to Chet, who had been growing increasingly frustrated. Virna looked at Shawn with a scared looked Shawn had never seen until then. Stacy seemed to tense.
“Chet, honey, why don’t you lay off the beer a bit?” Virna asked carefully. Chet’s grip tightened on Shawn as he continued to sip. Shawn didn’t know what was happening, not really, he was too young to understand then.
Chet laughed. “C’mon, Virna, I’m just gettin’ started! The night is young!” Chet patted Shawn on the back, a bit too hard for it to be normal. If Shawn had known better, he would’ve stayed quiet.
“Tha’ hurt, Daddy!” he complained. He was unaware of how prone to anger Chet was when drunk. Chet shifted his position on the couch to face Shawn. He chugged the rest of the bottle of beer. Without warning, he smashed the bottle on Shawn’s cheekbone, leaving glass imbedded in his skin.
No one moved for a few seconds. Shawn was in too much shock to recover immediately. Virna, as well as Chet, seemed almost surprised. Shawn wonders in hindsight why Virna had been concerned as she was considering how long she allowed the abuse to continue. Stacy, however, was quick to act.
“Shawnie, hey, why don’t you come with me to a friend’s house?” she asked in a soft voice. She was only fourteen at the time, Shawn realizes looking back, and she already was more of a caretaker to him than anyone else in his life.
Silently, surprisingly without crying or even sniffling, Shawn climbed down from the couch and grabbed Stacy’s hand with his small fingers. She turned to give Virna a look Shawn didn’t understand at the time. She gave Shawn’s hand a little squeeze before leading him out of the trailer.
Shawn ignored the yelling that followed upon their exit.
Stacy hurried him away after that. The two walked in silence out of the trailer park. Some of the residents were sitting outside their trailers, drinking and smoking. Others were inside arguing with their spouses. Stacy was in a hurry to get the two of them away.
Eddie and his gang stopped them.
“Where you goin’ in such a hurry?” Eddie asked. He didn’t seem concerned - at least that’s how Shawn read the situation at the time - but he had a vacant expression. He must have been masking his worry.
Eddie’s eyes trailed down to Shawn’s blank face and the shard still sticking out from his skin. Eddie made eye contact with Stacy once more, nodding, and left the two of them alone. Eddie’s gang looked at them wearily before following.
Once out of the trailer park, Stacy kneeled down in front of Shawn. She carefully picked the glass shard out of Shawn’s cheek and discarded it on the grass. She wiped some of the blood away with her thumb, but it only smudged it. She looked troubled.
“I’m gonna take you to my friend Nebula’s house with me, okay? She can get you patched up.” It was a promise. Shawn nodded, but tilted his head slightly.
“How come Daddy hurt me? Why’s he smell funny?”
Stacy smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. It was too sad to be genuine. Instead of answering, she stood back up and gripped his hand again. Shawn knew better than to ask twice.
The entire walk after that was silent. They lived in the bad part of town. Stacy, Shawn knew, was uncomfortable walking from one place to another at night, especially as a younger girl with a kid brother. Shawn still remembers the way some of the men on the streets looked at her.
Stacy didn’t knock on the door. Shawn found that odd. She instead led him around the side of the house. She picked up a pebble before throwing it up at the window directly above them. It only took one pebble before a head popped out of the window. Stacy finally seemed to relax.
“Nebby, you’re parents home?” Stacy called. Shawn tightened his grip on Stacy’s hand. Nebula glanced at Shawn nervously for a moment.
“Not yet, no, but they’ll be back in a bit. Is everything okay?”
“Peachy, Nebby, peachy.” Stacy spoke with a sort of southern lilt in her voice that Shawn knew she always changed in front of their parents. She never liked to have anything similar to them, and Shawn couldn’t say he blamed her. “Front door unlocked?” Nebula nodded.
Stacy ushered Shawn to the front of the house, making sure to keep him in front of her at all times. At the time, Shawn hated her overprotectiveness: now, all he wants for her is to come back and hug him and tell him everything will be okay. He knows it was in her best interest to move, but he can’t say he didn’t feel the least bit betrayed when she left.
Nebula had greeted them at the door. She looked around outside for a bit, probably to check if anyone was watching, before allowing Shawn and Stacy inside the house. She made special care to lock the door after her.
Shawn doesn’t remember much after arriving at the Lawrence household. He remembers stinging, he remembers tears and moonlit confessions, but he can’t say he remembers crying. He doesn’t remember returning home that night, but he does remember waking up to a dirty trailer the next morning with no sign of anyone but Eddie.
Two - Eddie
It wasn’t the second time that it happened, nor was it the third. Shawn can’t remember most of the times anymore. He remembers the twelfth - eleventh? - time, however, because it was the week after Stacy moved to Seattle. He was eleven, she was twenty. She’d dropped out of high school to care for her family before leaving.
Eddie was out at the time, and Virna had taken off a week prior. It was only Shawn and Chet in the house that morning.
Shawn assumed he was safe. Chet wasn’t much of a day drinker, and he certainly wasn’t a morning drinker, so Shawn thought it would be fine for him to be on his own. Eddie had thought so too. He knows now, looking back, that Eddie would’ve stayed if he didn’t think Shawn was safe. Eddie didn’t know at the time. Shawn doesn’t blame him (anymore).
It must have been a rough morning. If Shawn had been more observant, he would have noticed the unusual bags resting under Chet’s eyes. He might have even been better prepared for the sudden strike to his scarred, left cheek. Shawn reeled from the impact of the punch.
“What did I do?” he almost shouted. Anger was the least of his worries, or at least he thought it would be - he was usually able to control it. Chet’s nostrils flared at Shawn’s outburst.
“You just talk back to me, boy?”
Shawn blanched. “Sorry, sir.” Chet took a final swig from the bottle and moved to smash it on Shawn’s head. Shawn was quick enough to block his face with his arms, but ended up still getting hit in the end. The blood trickled down his arms and dripped onto the floor. Shawn knew better than to talk back again.
“Grab me another beer.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shawn shuffled over to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of beer like his dad had asked of him and set it on the cluttered table in front of him. Chet didn’t waste anytime before the cap was off and he was already drinking again.
He thought he was in the clear again. He was wrong again.
“Did I say you could leave?” Chet stood, leaving his beer on the table for once. Shawn knew that this was bad. He knew it was worse than last time.
He hesitated. That was the wrong thing to do, he found out shortly, when Chet shoved him against the wall so hard his head bounced back off it. He winced. He might’ve brought his hand to the back of his head to inspect it, but Chet had a firm grip on his shoulders. He smelled like booze.
“I-I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”
Another wrong thing to say. Chet kneed Shawn in the stomach hard enough for Shawn to break free of Chet’s grip and double over. It wasn’t too bad, not as bad as the last few times, but he couldn’t deny that it still hurt.
Chet grabbed Shawn’s shoulder again and shoved him towards the ground. Once Shawn was sprawled out on the floor, Chet laid a hasty kick to his chest. Shawn curled in on himself, hands over his head to protect his face, but legs now covering the most part of his stomach.
“Chet.”
Shawn relaxed a bit. It was Eddie. Eddie was seventeen then, still running with a bad crowd, still a criminal, but a fresh high school dropout like Stacy. Eddie had been stronger than Shawn. Chet liked Eddie, at least more than he liked Shawn, but it didn’t stop Shawn from worrying that their father would hurt him.
“Go take a walk.”
That was new. Shawn had never seen Eddie stand up to Chet before, certainly not to protect Shawn or Stacy or even Virna, and even Chet seemed surprised. Shawn still doesn’t understand why he listened. Because Chet grabbed his beer from the table, threw it at Shawn, grabbed another beer, then left to presumably take a walk. It was a strange order of events.
Eddie was kneeling down next to Shawn. “‘ey, kid,” and Eddie picked a piece of glass from Shawn’s hair, “ya gotta get up. Lemme see ya.” Shawn looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes and uncurled the slightest bit. Eddie visibly winced.
“That bad, huh?” he said lightly. He didn’t like it much when Eddie was serious. Eddie kept the grimace on his face. His thumb ghosted lightly over the scar on his cheek from the first time, then he wiped blood from Shawn’s lip.
“Not too bad. Can’t help ya too much if ya got somethin’ wrong with y’r ribs, but I’m sure they hurt like hell. Might wanna ice ‘em.” Eddie stood completely up again, this time offering a hand to Shawn. The latter gladly took the help from his brother. His posture was poor, he was hunched over because of the dull but constant ache in his ribs, but he was standing.
Eddie ruffled Shawn’s hair. “Sit down on the couch, I’m gonna get this place cleaned up. First, I’m gonna drop by Mike’s ta see if he’s got ice ta spare. Don’t you go nowhere while I’m gone.” Shawn mock soluted.
Eddie was quick out of the trailer. He bounded from one side to the other in a few long steps. Shawn wasn’t paying attention much, though, because his ears started ringing. Strange. Shawn plopped down on the couch and felt the back of his head.
Blood.
Fucking great.
Shawn groaned and leaned back against the couch. Blood wasn’t new, but it normally didn’t come from the back of his head. He knew he would be unable to tell if something was seriously wrong under any circumstances. He only prayed that it wasn’t.
When Eddie arrived back not ten minutes later, he was out of breath and holding no ice. He locked the door behind him when he entered the trailer. He walked away from the door and ran his hands through his hair. Shawn didn’t know why he was stressed until Chet started banging on the door. Shawn subconsciously flinched and looked back at Eddie with fearful eyes.
“Get lost, old man! Come back when you’re sober!”
Three - Eric
His twelfth birthday was bad. Chet began to drink more frequently, getting angry a lot easier. Virna was rarely at the trailer and Eddie did his best to avoid it. At that time, it was only Chet and Shawn there. Chet was drunk on Shawn’s birthday.
Shawn doesn’t remember a lot of what happened earlier that day. Part of him thinks he blocked it out. He knows it must have been bad, worse than normal, because he remembers every other time when he thinks about it hard enough. His twelfth birthday, though? It still remains a mystery to him.
He can only remember after he arrived and the Matthews’ place. It was a Saturday night, and Shawn guaranteed no one would be home. He thought it would be a great idea to sneak in, grab a couple of bandages and gauze for his wounds (maybe a little disinfectant as well), and get out. It wasn’t stealing if they weren’t gonna miss it.
He crept in through Cory’s window. Cory always kept it unlocked just in case, but Cory wasn’t there that night. The only reason Shawn had come in the first place was because all of the Matthews would be away. Cory was on a date with Topanga. No one even knew it was his birthday.
Silence spread like a plague throughout the house. The only sound was the creaking of the floorboards underneath Shawn’s feet as he made his way towards Amy and Alan’s room. He knew that that’s where the bandages and other things were kept.
When he stepped into the hall, he noticed something amiss. He could hear a television playing downstairs. He furrowed his eyebrows. There was no car in the driveway, which meant no Amy and Alan. Eric and Cory both had dates. Morgan was at a sleepover. Shawn should’ve been alone. He shivered at the thought of being caught, but played the television off as a mistake. Maybe the Matthews forgot to turn it off before they left. Even then, he knew it wasn’t true.
“Who’s up there?” called Eric, pausing the television when Shawn opened the door to Amy and Alan’s bedroom. He cursed the Matthews for their creaky doors.
Eric appeared at the bottom of the stairs almost immediately. Shawn froze under his scrutinizing gaze. He slowly turned around face Eric with an ashamed smile. He knew this would happen. He should’ve stayed home.
“I know this looks bad-”
“What the fuck happened?” Eric demanded while climbing the stairs with a purpose. Shawn backed himself into the wall farthest away from Eric. Eric paused, not wanting Shawn to feel like a trapped animal. “You look like shit, Hunter.”
Shawn kept his mouth shut. He knew what would happen if Eric really knew what happened. He couldn’t risk losing any more of his family. Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll cut you a deal: I patch you up, and you tell me what you’re doin’ here.”
“You’re not gonna tell anyone. Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
Eric sighed. Shawn knew he had him. “Fine, yeah, just as long as you tell me the truth.” Shawn relaxed the slightest bit. Eric led him into Amy and Alan’s room. He disappeared into their bathroom while Shawn sat down on the bed.
Eric emerged from the bathroom, medical supplies in hand. Shawn flinched when Eric turned on the light. The bright synthetic lights hurt his eyes. Eric didn’t seem to notice or care. The bed dipped next to Shawn as Eric sat down.
First, Eric began to clean the gash behind his ear. Then, he spoke (possibly as a sort of distraction). “Talk, Hunter. How did this happen?”
“I… I got into a fight with Eddie’s gang back at the trailer park,” he lied easily, words coming to mind as he spoke. Eric scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
“You said you’d be honest.” Eric pulled the washcloth away from Shawn’s ear. Shawn glanced at the blood on it. Eric grimaced, but said nothing of it, before moving to put a bandage over it. Shawn wondered if he needed stitches.
“You’re gonna tell.”
“I promised I wouldn’t. Now, Eric Matthews doesn’t break promises.” Eric looked at the blood spot on Shawn’s shirt. “Take the shirt off so I can work.”
Shawn complied, placing the shirt on the bed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the lack of a reaction out of Eric.
“You’re gonna tell,” he repeated. Eric rolled his eyes while placing the wet washcloth against his bloody side. Chet must’ve impaled him with one of Virna’s heels. He didn’t want to think about that.
“I get it that you don’t wanna talk, but you have to. We had a deal. I won’t tell.”
Shawn pursed his lips. Eric insisted he wouldn’t tell, he never broke a promise before, but Shawn wasn’t sure if he trusted Eric with this completely. It could blow up in his face later if the cops found out Shawn told.
“Promise?”
Eric huffed, pulling away the washcloth. “Promise.”
“It was my dad.” Eric hesitated. Shawn could see him thinking about something, could see his contemplation in his eyes. The five seconds seemed to last forever before Eric began to disinfect the wound in his side.
Eric went silent. Shawn filled the silence with elaboration. “He’s not normally real mad, jus’ when he’s drunk. He’s drunk lots nowadays. An’, an’ now Ma an’ Stace are gone, an’ Eddie’s avoidin’ the trailer. ‘s jus’ me there with ‘im now, an’ I dunno what I did wrong.” Shawn’s breath hitched at the end of his ramble as a stinging sensation entered his wound. “I jus’ said I wanted to go out f’r my birthday.”
Eric’s gaze softened. “Happy birthday, Shawn.” With the wound disinfected, Eric found it best fit to stitch this wound up, considering the steady blood flow. Shawn seemed to figure it out as well, but he made now protests.
“You didn’t deserve that. You shouldn’t have to live with him.”
“You can’t tell nobody. I’ll lie to the pigs if I have to.”
Eric sighs, pulling out a needle and thread. “I know, Shawn, I know.”
Four - Jon
He was thirteen. It must’ve been the first time in a year since it had happened. Chet was angrier than usual, Shawn wasn’t sure why, and Virna was out. Shawn mostly just wished that he didn’t have to come to school with a bruise on his cheek and split lip.
Cory didn’t greet him at the door or at their lockers. He was already in homeroom, surprisingly. Shawn didn’t understand until he realized that he was late to class. He groaned internally, shoving his backpack into his locker before making his way into Mr. Turner’s room with his head down.
As sneakily as he could, Shawn slipped into the seat behind Cory. Conversation paused as Turner laid eyes on Shawn. Shawn kept his head down, looking down at his desk, avoiding eye contact with his teacher. Turner stood for a few moments more before leaving Shawn alone. Shawn would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised.
Class continued as usual. Turner was going over last night’s reading: Huck Finn. Shawn hadn’t read it, he hadn’t had time before Chet was angry, but he prayed that Turner would leave him alone during the discussion because of what had happened earlier.
“Hunter, care to share your thoughts?”
Shawn cringed. He knew it was coming, despite his hopes. His heart dropped to his ankles and he stared at his hands, dejected. He could feel all eyes on him.
“I didn’t read it,” he said meekly. It was strange for everyone else, probably, because he was never honest at first. His cheeks heated up with red in almost embarrassment. The silence lasted a bit longer before Turner moved on (without even making a snarky comment).
The rest of class was a bit of a blur. Shawn had been distracted by the stabbing pain in his ribs as well as the stinging on his face. He grounded himself back in reality for a little bit after his nose began to bleed randomly. He pressed the back of his hand against the bleeding nostril to not draw attention to himself again.
The bell rang. Shawn moved his free hand to grab his books. He was about to stand and meet Cory in the hallway, but Turner stood right next to his desk and blocked his escape. Shawn’s blood ran cold.
“Wanna tell me what’s up?”
“Nah, I think ‘m good, actually,” Shawn responded nervously. His hand was still firmly pressed against his nose. It didn’t feel like the bleeding had stopped. “If you’ll excuse me-”
“No, Hunter, we’re talkin’.” Shawn finally locked eyes with Turner. Turner grimanced slightly before handing Shawn a tissue finally. Shawn took it gratefully and replaced his hand with the tissue. Jon’s eyes scanned the rest of his face. “Woah, what happened to your face?”
Shawn frowned. “What, don’t think this mug’s pretty anymore?” he snarked, trying to stand. Jon pushed him back in the seat. Shawn huffed. “Just let me go.”
“Not ‘til you tell me what happened. Someone do this to you? Did’ja get into a fight? Thought I told you to stop pickin’ fights with people you couldn’t take.”
Shawn rolled his eyes. Jon was clearly trying to keep the mood light, which Shawn did appreciate, but he didn’t enjoy the interrogation.
“I’m fine . It was nothing. Just tripped on my way out of the trailer.”
“Why were you late?”
“Overslept.”
“Why do you look like you can’t breathe?”
Shawn scoffed. Jon was closer, right in his face, anger dripping off of him like sweat. Shawn backed away and almost fell out of his seat. Jon sighed, and Shawn felt a lump forming in his throat.
“Just tell me what’s goin’ on with you, Hunter. I only wanna help.” Jon backed away, raising his hands up in mock surrender.
Shawn shook his head and looked down at his shoes. “Just drop it.” His ribs felt like they were tightening around his lungs. He wasn’t panicking, wasn’t even really worried, but he was finding it harder to breathe.
Chet kicked harder than Shawn had thought he could.
“Fine. You don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. Just go to the nurse’s office so she can check you out. Don’t want you collapsing in the hall. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.” Shawn gave Jon a curt nod and rushed out the door.
He wasn't really thinking about the consequences, or the conclusions Jon would draw, because he didn't care much at the time. If Jon knew and called someone? Well, Shawn has always been a good liar. He wasn't worried about other people knowing (it was a lie he told himself; he was terrified of how Chet would react afterwards).
It was an accident that he ran into Cory in the hallway.
"It was your dad."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A statement that weighed on Shawn's heart heavily, a statement that throbbed in his chest, a statement that was worth a lot more than Cory knew.
Shawn didn't have the energy to do anything but nod.
+ One - Jack
“Our father was an abusive, ugly drunk!” Jack’s voice is loud. Shawn, even in his drunken state, winces. Cory already knows what’s happening. He knows what will happen. He anticipates it until it finally happens.
It’s a blur. First, Shawn tackles Jack. Cory pries him off. Angela and Topanga show.
“Alcoholism is in our blood and you shouldn’t drink! ”
They talk. Shawn’s mad. Angela’s mad. Angela and Topanga are gone. It’s just Shawn, Jack, and Cory again. Cory’s ears are still ringing.
“That was dumb, Shawn, that was real dumb,” Jack scoffs, shaking his head and pacing around while Shawn plops down on the couch, “this is so fucking stupid of you, Shawn! Dad was an alcoholic, you don’t- you can’t do this! ”
“He knows that, Jack.”
Cory didn’t know he had spoken until Jack pauses. He hesitates, debating whether or not to ask something in his head, before finally speaking.
“What?” is what he decides on. Shawn looks down at his shoes. Cory knows that it’s not his place to share anything, but it’s too late now. Jack won’t shut up until Cory elaborates.
Cory huffs. “He knows how Chet was. He lived with him, Jack. Chet didn’t change.” Cory shakes his head. “He didn’t quit drinking.”
Jack blanches at that. He spins around halfway to look at Shawn. Shawn is hunched over, elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. His cheeks are flushed as heat spreads over his face and neck like ivy. Cory feels something in his chest; guilt, maybe, fear.
“...Shawn?”
And Shawn looks up. Tears are in his eyes but haven’t fallen yet. “He didn’t remember the next day. Said drinking helped him to forget.” Shawn’s voice is quiet, almost silent, Cory almost doesn’t hear him.
Jack sits down on the couch next to Shawn. Shawn doesn’t look at him. “I-”
“No, Jack, no. You don’t know what I did. What he did. I can’t look in the mirror anymore ‘cause of him.” Shawn clenches his palm. His nails dig into his skin, drawing a bit of blood. Jack undeniably feels guilty and Shawn has sobered up as his anger grows.
“I’ve had bottles thrown at me, smashed on me; I have cigarette burns from when he was smoking and drunk; I’ve been beaten and I’ve been abandoned so don’t you dare say that I don’t know what he was like because you weren’t there!”
Shawn is standing now, hands tugging on his hair in the way that Cory knows hurts. Cory steps forward and grabs Shawn’s wrists cautiously to pull them down from his head. Shawn complies easily, but still doesn’t look up
Jack watches carefully with a thoughtful sort of look on his face. “...I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was…this bad.”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” Shawn provides meekly as a response, "no one but Eric was supposed to know." Jack's expression falls to a gentle frown. He, like Shawn, runs his hands through his hair because of the stress. Shawn swallows thickly in almost fear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shawn’s arms are crossed over his chest, scratching the outside of one of his forearms violently. Cory furrows his eyebrows.
“Didn’t wanna ruin your image of him.” Shawn once again sits down on the couch next to Jack. Cory remains standing next to the couch on Shawn’s side and Shawn continues to scratch at his skin until it’s raw.
Jack sighs. “You should’ve told me.”
Shawn thought a lot about his experiences with other because of Chet. He thought about Stacy taking care of him, patching him up with what little sewing skills Virna had taught her. He thought about Eddie: going from caring enough to steal for Shawn’s well-being to becoming estranged. He thought about Eric, the only one he told willingly, the one who he went to after Stacy and Eddie (and he knows like he knew then that Eric had been through something similar). He thought about Jon, still does, about how Jon assumed but didn’t say or ask; Jon who still chose to took care of him after.
He thought about Cory.
Cory, who sits beside him now, pulling Shawn’s hand away from his skin so it doesn’t bleed anymore. Cory, who stayed by his side even when Shawn told. Cory, who’s still by his side and helped him tell Shawn’s own brother about their father.
“He’s not worth it.”