Shawn was a gifted boy. He was smart, funny, and loved to play guitar. At school, he looked like the perfect guy. Everybody wanted to be him. If only they knew what went on behind closed doors. If they knew, nobody would trade places with Shawn.
His father is an alcoholic. He drank day in and day out. This left Shawn to fend for himself most of the time. He had learned to cook elaborate meals from himself, and had been doing his own laundry and paying the bills since he was 12. Most days, the house was quiet. Others, however, were so noisy from his dad’s drunken rages.
The dad’s rages were the worst. The man would walk through the house, throwing bottles, slamming doors, and just looking for someone or something to take all of his anger and pain out on. Usually it ended up being Shawn that took the beating. He covered his bruises with long sleeves and jeans. All through the hot summer months, he’d be decked in long sleeves. People suspected, but they didn’t dare to question him.
It wasn’t always this way though. When Shawn was little, his dad was the kindest man around. He would give you the shirt off his back. Whenever Shawn came home from school, his father, Ricky, would hoist him onto his shoulders and run around the yard as their faithful dog Sparky trotted along. Those were the good times; they were the times that Shawn would look back on when things got rough. He kept telling himself that one day his father would quit drinking; his father would go back to normal.
It never happened. Shawn desperately watched his dad’s downward spiral. He blamed himself. He thought maybe if he had gotten better grades, his mom wouldn’t have left them for a new family. She wouldn’t have betrayed them. He thought if she was still here, she wouldn’t have passed away in that car accident 10 years ago. All of these thoughts ran through his head that night. The night when Shawn's life changed forever. He had stolen a bottle of whiskey from his dad’s cabinet. Ricky was too busy being passed out to care. As he walked down the street to the bridge that passed over the Mississippi River, he took a long gulp. This is what his life had become.
As he downed the last drop, his feet clumsily carried him to the edge of the bridge, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was over. It was done. There was nothing more he could do. All of the good grades, successful sport endeavors, and music awards couldn’t pull his dad out of his slump. It couldn’t fix his broken family.
One leg, then the next, Shawn made his way to the other side of the bridge, the bottle falling into the icy water below. He let go with one hand to wipe his tears. Just as he was about to jump, a girl’s voice came from the shadows.
“Don’t jump.” She said quietly, stepping out.
To be continued
