It's been a month now, without him. Every day seems to get longer and longer. I miss him, a lot, to say the least. I constantly wonder about him; what he's doing, if he's okay, if he is happy, when they'll release him from of jail. He consumes me.
I know he has this "plan" but right now it doesn't seem like his plan is working. I hope he hasn't forgotten me.
***
(Shawn's P.O.V)
I walked into the hospital for the first time since Doc kicked me out two weeks ago. This time I brought my lawyer just incase he tries to pull anything funny.
After passing the guards they've now hired, I made my way to his office. After knocking twice I entered without his verbal consent.
"Shawn.." My lawyer, Mark, pled.
"Just go with it."
Doc's eyes widened causing the wrinkles in his forehead to be more visible.
"I thought I told you to steer clear of this place, Shawn."
I rolled my eyes before shrugging my shoulders, "You already know I don't listen to what anyone tells me, why use the energy, Doc?"
He let out a loud groan and took off his glasses, rubbing his bald head.
"What do you want?" He asked.
"I'm glad you ask," I pulled out Beyoncé's medical records, her mother's medical records, and some other proof that she isn't crazy, and slid them across his desk, "Read over these. It might take awhile, but I have time so I'll wait. This proves that Beyoncé is in fact, not a psychopath like you claim she is."
"Shawn, I-"
"Don't speak, just read."
My lawyer looked at me, surprised. I didn't pay him much attention. He hasn't helped me much since he was hired, anyways.
After about an hour he finished reading so he took the time to look over a few details again.
"You're right." He said.
I raised my eyebrows. I expected him to put up a fight, to try to prove these records false.
"It's going to take a few hours, but if you wait I can fill out the paper work, ask Beyoncé some questions, then she'll be free."
I smiled, ecstatic that my plan worked.
"I'll be in the waiting area." I said.
***
(Beyoncé's P.O.V)
Someone unlocked the door and opened it, then I heard Doc's voice.
"I need to ask you some questions, Bey. If that's okay with you."
Anything that gets me out of this room for a few minutes, is fine with me.
"Yeah, that's fine."
I followed Doc to his office. I took a seat across from him.
"Beyoncé, has any doctor ever asked you about your mother?"
I was taken back by his question, "No." I answered truthfully. No one knows about her, besides the fact she died, besides my aunt and I.
"Can you explain to me what happened?"
I explained to him in detail what happened. I put emphasis on the fact I was sheltered for five or six years. Everything I told Shawn, I told Doc.
"Wow, Beyoncé. I am so sorry!" He said taking my hand and holding it in between both of his.
No one has ever apologized. It actually feels kind of...good. I've been hospitalized since I was seventeen. They didn't even give me the option to go back to school. I didn't get to have friends, the normal life, the chance to go to college, I didn't get any of the opportunities everyone else gets. Although it isn't entirely his fault, it feels good to have someone apologize for like last six years of hell I've had to endure.
