𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝙱𝚘𝚢 (𝚋𝚡𝚋)

32.

Shawn sits down in his seat at his therapist's office. He'd randomly called in, not having even scheduled this appointment.

She simply smiles as he sits down. "I'm surprised to hear from you. Last time you were here you made it seem like your last."

"I know," Shawn sighs. "Remember my best friend told you about? How we were connected cause of our shitty lives and shitty fathers?"

"Of course, I do."

"He asked me something the other day. I think...I think I know why I'm so angry about my dad. I-I..never got to tell him how I really felt. And, I don't mean snarky comments...But genuinely telling him how much he fucking hurt me."

"You wish you could've spoken your mind?"

"Yeah. He never let me have that control. He was always tellin' me how he felt about me...A-and my relationship and just everything and I just sat there and took it."

"If you could, what would you say to him?"

"I-..." Shawn wipes his sweaty palms down in his pants. "It doesn't matter. He's gone."

The therapist stands up from her chair, pointing to the couch on the side of the room. "Look over there," She points at the empty chair. "Pretend he's sitting right there. Open ears, and let it all out."

Shawn chuckles a little before glancing at the therapist. "Uh...It's an empty chair," He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know how that is supposed to help."

"You'd be surprised. It's called Psychotherapy. It will help you express yourself freely in a safe environment. Just give it a try."

Shawn lets out a deep breath, questioning the tactics his therapist was currently using. "Okay...Uhm,"

Shawn looks at the empty chair, trying his best to imagine his dad there. He tries to remember how his dad looked before he passed. Trying to fit the missing puzzle piece.

Shawn sighs again. He didn't even know if he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He thinks back through his childhood, all of the things he encountered after his mom passed. He thinks of all the cuts and bruises littered around his body that have yet to fade, both physically and mentally.

He thinks about all the opportunities missed out on because he wasn't able to live a normal teenage life. He thinks about how he started drinking and doing drugs when he was fifteen to ease the everlasting pain in his heart.

He thinks about the nights he had to stay at Gavin's house because he was too afraid to sleep at home, in case his dad decided to beat on him. He thinks about the time his dad came home drunk and pulled the trigger on his only son, fleeing the scene not even caring if he was dead or alive.

"You took everything away from me,"

He finally speaks up after being in a memory-induced daydream of all of his horror stories. He shakes his head in disappointment.

"You told me the day of Mom's funeral that I could always depend on you. You told me I had a shoulder to cry on. You promised me we would get through this together. And instead of being able to grieve the loss of my mother, I also had to grieve the loss of you too."

"You fuckin'," Shawn takes in a sharp breath, almost holding his tongue. "You fuckin' let me suffer. You took out all that fucking anger you had with the world and you beat me. You stole from me. You fuckin' shot me. I'm you're fucking son, you piece of shit."

His therapist nods her head as Shawn rambles to the empty chair. She makes sure to take notes of the tone in his voice, as well as the emphasis in which he is speaking, hopefully, to make him better understand how to address his trauma.

"I never did anything to you. I was nine when she died. Nine. I never asked for any of that shit and I tried my fucking best. You didn't even let me try and grow up! I was all alone! Y-You," Shawn starts to tear up a little bit, but his sadness quickly turns into anger.

"You put all that hurt on me...You-...You would hurt me...for no reason. I-I...I missed Mom, too. I needed her too. I...I grieved her too and you didn't let me feel what I needed to feel. A-and I'm glad you're gone. You fuckin' asshole."

Shawn sighs and leans over, putting his hands up to his face. He lets out a long, drawn-out breath.

His therapist gives him a few seconds, offering the box of tissues to Shawn. Shawn sits up, grabbing a tissue, wiping under his nose with it. He gulps and nods his head twice.

**

Jaxon appears out of their bedroom after showering. When he got home, Shawn wasn't there and he assumed he was at work. He jumps a little when he sees Shawn sitting on the couch, taking a sip from his drink.

"I didn't know you were home," Jaxon says. He walks over to the couch to sit next to his fiance. "How was work?"

"Didn't go today," Shawn says as he looks over at Jaxon. He wraps his arm around Jaxon's shoulder, leaning the two back into the couch. "Went to therapy."

"I thought you only went Mondays and Thursdays."

"Yeah, I know. But, I needed to vent," Shawn replies as he takes another sip from his drink. "She made me talk to an empty chair. Pretend like my dad was there."

"Ooh," Jaxon pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Psychotherapy. The Gestalt therapy technique."

Shawn furrows his brows and looks down at Jaxon. "The what?"

"You know? Therapy that is centered around just you. You're supposed to talk to the empty chair in order to your conflicts. It's supposed to give you relief after you've finally said what needed to be said."

"Seriously? How do you fit so much information in your head."

Jaxon chuckles and sits up. "That's like, basic psychology. So, did it help?"

"Weirdly enough it did. I...Pretended like I was talking to my dad and I just...Let it all go. Well, not all of it there are parts of my brain that I haven't let explore all that trauma but...Base level, I guess."

"Well, that's good to hear," Jaxon smiles and grabs Shawn's hand, interlocking their fingers. He lays back against the couch. "Thank god for Max Wertheimer."

Shawn shakes his head, "You're so annoying."

"You're feeling better, though?"

"I think for now. Therapist said I still have a lot to work through but she told me she can already see some progress being made. She said I've started to open up more."

"Well, I'm glad," Jaxon smiles again and leans in to kiss Shawn once. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, baby," Shawn replies, a smile on his face as well.

***