The Psychic That Had A Brother

Thoughts

Shawn’s POV:

I wake up to the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps. I open my eyes to see my dad. He frowns when he sees me. I raise an eyebrow.

“You look like shit Shawn,” he sighs.

“Thanks dad,” I reply. He sits in the chair next to my bed.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Ten,” he replies.

“When can I leave?” I ask.

“Shawn, I have no idea. “ I groan at the wait. My dad rubs his temple.

“What, too annoying?”

“No, I just never thought that I’d be here again,” he sighs. I nod in agreement.

“Me too. At least York is gone.”

“But the memories won’t go with him,” says my dad.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I reply.

“Jake would be proud of you,” my dad says quietly. I close my eyes. Jake. Memories flash in my mind of him, all before the horrific day. I can’t help but wonder what Jake would have turned out like if I had been the one to die. I would easily give up my life so that he could have his back, but it doesn’t work like that. He would have been better than me, he would have made my dad proud, at least that’s what I think. I feel my dad put a hand on my shoulder, shaking me from my thoughts. I open my eyes.

“You alright kid?” my dad asks me.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” he replies.

“You know, I never thought about Jake until the case came up. I blocked out that entire part of my life, except from nightmares every now and then.”

“Memories come back to haunt you. Believe me, I know,” he says.

“Do you ever think about all the other ways the event could have played out? Or do you ever think about what our lives would have been like if the event never happened?”

“Yes I have Shawn, but I don’t do it long. Because it didn’t turn out that way, so there’s no reason to dwell on it for too long,” he answers.

“Dad, do you honestly think it was my fault?” I ask, looking him in the eyes.

“Jake’s death?” he asks. I nod. “Shawn I didn’t mean it-”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I’ve wondered about it, and I think it is. You?”

“No I don’t Shawn. How on earth could it be your fault?” he asks.

“I could have stopped him from opening that door,” I answer.

“Shawn, he would have broke in any way.” I shake my head.

“You don’t know that,” I accuse, my voice getting rougher.

“And you don’t know if you could have stopped him. Everything has a chance of happening or not happening.”

“I know, I did attend school,” I reply.

“Then you know you can’t change the past Shawn. No matter how much you want to, you can’t change the past.” I know he’s right, but that doesn’t change my thoughts. I close my eyes, letting the guilt sink in. Why did I deny the blame when my dad said it was my fault? He was right, but why is he denying it now? Probably because I’m in the hospital, and was just attacked by a psychopath. I know he doesn’t want to make me feel guilty, but I already did. I feel my dad put his hand on my shoulder again, but I don’t open my eyes. I take in the guilt.