Psych | C.H. AU

Part 1

"Calum, stop!" Mitchell's voice yelled over the sounds of other people's screams.

I didn't know what came over me. Maybe it was from all the pressure my father put on me to be great, to be the best. Or maybe it was the alcohol running rampant through my veins. What ever it was, I couldn't seem to bring myself to stop. It was just one punch after another.

"You're going to kill him!"

My eyes shot open as I rolled out of my bed, gasping for air, and hit the floor with a thud. It was the same every time. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding and wishing the dreams would just stop.

But I deserved them, right? After what I did, I should wake up scared for my own life. I don't remember anything from that night, just the blurry faces and the screams of on-lookers. But just that was enough to make me hate myself more and more with each passing day. I've been deemed a monster and I don't even remember the reason why.

I lay with my back against the hard wood floor of my room as I willed myself to stand. Once I was on my feet, I stumbled across the room and into the hallway finally making my way downstairs. Both my parents were in the kitchen and the second I walked in the air turned heavy.

"Good morning, honey!" My mother smiled as big as she could because she thought it would actually make a difference.

"Morning," I mumbled and took a glance at my father to see him completely ignoring my presence.

It's been like this since that night. My mother thought the best thing to do was to stay positive and make me feel like nothing had changed. But everything is different now. My father on the other hand hasn't said more than five words to me at a time since he picked me up from the police station the morning after. If he thought I was a disappointment before I could only imagine what he thought of me now.

"I made you breakfast." My mother set a plate of blueberry pancakes on the table in front of me. "They're your favorite!"

My stomach churned as I stared down at the food on the plate, the hazy memories from my dream still whirling around in my head. "I'm not hungry."

"Please eat something, Calum-"

"Let him starve himself." I was more surprised that my father had actually spoken than about what he had said.

I stared down at my lap in shame before I stood and left the room, once again making my way upstairs. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of my life? People giving me horrible looks solely based off what they heard and what I could barely piece together.

It's been over a month since the incident and I've tried my hardest to push away the idea that my judge sanctioned therapy sessions would be starting today. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew I needed it. I would never be able to move past this on my own and hopefully earn a shorter sentence during my final court hearing. But from the witness statements already documented, I doubt I would be getting anything less than five years.

Ever since that night I've been alone. My parents pulled me from school, my college having no issues with letting me go. It was my final year and I wouldn't be able to walk through graduation with all my friends.

I laughed to myself as I tugged a wrinkled shirt from a pile of clothes on the ground near my dresser and put it on over my head. Who was I kidding, I no longer had any friends. Everyone I was close with at school now treated me like some kind of leper. But I deserved that too, right? So now at the age of 21, I was back living in my parents house, which had never been an option for me in the first place.