The Psychic That Had A Brother

Surgery

Juliet’s POV:

I leave the hospital after Shawn falls asleep. That’s all he does now, sleep. It would be better if he ate, anything! But since he’s been admitted, he hasn’t eaten a thing, which is weird for Shawn. I fall asleep, worrying about Shawn. I wake up at six, I’m allowed to see Shawn at seven today. I quickly get up and head to the hospital. Shawn’s is awake when I get there.

“Hey,” his voice is tight and rough still. I hand him the cup of water that was out of his reach. He drinks over half of it before he finally sets it down.

“Good morning,” I start.

“Yeah, it’s just great,” he replies.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I don’t want to go into surgery, again,” he replies. My heart breaks, I frown.

“Shawn, you have to,” I reply. He groans.

“You alright?” I ask, but I already know the answer.

“No.” They took him off his pain medication for the surgery. “I hate hospitals.”

“Shawn, they saved your life-”

“How?” he asks, he obviously didn’t sleep well.

“They stopped the bleeding.” He looks away, defeated. “How much sleep did you get last night?” I ask him.

“Barely any,” he replies.

“Why?” I ask, already knowing the answer to that as well.

“Nightmares,” he answers quietly.

“About York?” He nods. I sit on the bed. He looks up at me with a puppy dog look. I smile, receiving one from him. The doctor then comes in, forcing me out of the room. He’s then admitted into surgery. I wait in the waiting room with Maddie.

“You know, I never thought I’d be in this situation again,” Maddie says.

“What do you mean?”

“Shawn went through more than one surgery the first time as well. When he found out he had to go to surgery again, he freaked out, I barely got him to calm down. He was so afraid. Almost every night, he woke up screaming from a nightmare.”

“He had one last night, about York,” I tell her.

“I’m not surprised, the man had problems. He had them almost thirty years ago when he visited me.” I nod, believing her.

“His mom told us more about his past. His alcoholic, abusive father killed his sister two year-old sister when he was seven. The father abused the mother ever since they got married, when we got to her house, she was covered in bruises and scars.”

“No wonder he was so messed up,” she replies. “And he’s dead?” she asks.

“Yep,” I reply. She nods. “But that doesn’t get rid of the pain and memories.”

“I know. Shawn will still be in pain and with his memory, he’ll remember everything. And that’s where we come in,” Maddie says. She’s right. He has the best memory I’ve ever seen, that has both positives and negatives. The negatives are that he can’t forget the worst things and the things he wants to forget. He’ll remember every detail and word York said. He’ll remember the pain and the case. He’ll always remember his dad’s words. He doesn’t forget. Everyone sees him as the fun and light-hearted psychic. He’s the guy always smiling and telling jokes. He’s the fun guy that’s easy to get along with. But everybody has an untold story, even Shawn. We sit there for three more hours, until a nurse comes in our direction.

“Shawn Spencer’s family?” she asks. We nod. “He’s fine, the surgery went well, you can see him in a few minutes.” She then walks off. A few minutes later, the nurse comes and gets and takes us to Shawn’s room. He’s asleep with bandages all over his right side. We decide to leave, now that we know he’s okay. I come back at six that night, since he’s probably awake. When I get there he has his eyes closed.

“Shawn?” he opens his eyes. He smiles when he sees me. My heart breaks, but I smile back. I sit in the chair next to his bad.

“How you feeling?” I ask him.

“Been better,” he replies.

“What’s wrong? Don’t they have you on medication?”

“Not until seven,” he replies. He closes his eyes and groans.

“The infection is gone,” I say, trying to be positive.

“Yeah, I know,” he groans. We both know that doesn’t change the pain. He’s going to be in pain for a while, even with the infection gone. I feel sorry for him. He shivers underneath the covers.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He shakes his head. I put my hand on his forehead, he’s warm. I look up at the monitor, he’s temperature is 101. Leave to go tell a nurse. She comes back with medicine. She messes with the wires and everything then leaves. Shawn starts trying to sit up.

“Shawn, stop,” I instruct. He points to a small plastic pail, that’s used for throwing up. I bring it up to him, and he throws up, and not a little bit. When he’s finally done, I lay it on the cabinet on the other side of the room. Shawn falls back against the bed.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Better,” he replies. I nod, he has to feel better after that. He closes his eyes. I push the hair out of his face, he looks up at me with another puppy face. He then smiles, and I can’t help but to smile back.

“When Can I leave?” he asks. I frown.

“Shawn, you just got out of surgery earlier today, at least one more night after this,” I answer. He nods. I leave to go eat supper. When I come back, he’s asleep. I sit in the chair next to his bed and take in the sight of him.

He looks broken. He has multiple bruises on his head from a bat. His boot sticks out from under the covers. He is still pale and skinnier than he has been for a while. His hair is a mess, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He looks so fragile. My heart breaks just looking at him. All of that is just what I can see, I can’t even imagine the pain he’s in. As much as I want him home, he needs to be here. I’m like Shawn, I hate hospitals. People die here, they live in pain here. Hospitals are full of morons and idiot nurses. I just want him to get better.