A New Perspective on an Old Theme

Shawn lay as still as possible as he slowly woke up, and listened intently for any sounds that indicated that someone (preferably living) was in the room with him. After a moment, he knew there wasn’t, and sighed with relief. He opened his eyes and looked at the window, which was covered with a shade that had been left open a crack. He saw that it was dark out, and looked somewhat blearily at the clock by his bed.

One A.M.. Last he knew it had been about three o’clock in the afternoon. He sighed and smacked his lips as the nasty aftertaste of the sedative they’d used, and the feeling of having been sucking on dentist’s cotton for most of the night hit him.

He reached over to the nightstand where he knew there was a pitcher and cup of ice water left for him, and sighed as he sucked down half of it, until he was finally able to dispel the effect of the sedative . . . at least from his mouth.

He replaced the cup, and all but fell back to his bed. He sighed as his mind kicked into some kind of gear, even if it was slow, and as much as he hated its ability to analyze, even recovering from the effects of a very strong sedative, he knew he needed to do it.

He really had gone nuts, and unfortunately it had been in front of everyone. That was not going to do much for his credibility, and he knew, with everything in him, that he was headed for some kind of trouble. One couldn’t go nuts like that, and get away with it . . .particularly when it endangered his fragile health.

And that was when he felt it . . .a particularly cold blast of air that made his teeth chatter, his body shake, and his head ache . . .badly. However, there was no way he was going to call for anything from anyone. Slowly, ever so slowly, he cracked his eyes open and through squinted eyelids groaned as a woman stood in the middle of his room, looking down at his bed.

A woman who looked as filthy and as disgusting as the other two had, though she reeked of manure, and her long, white bridal gown hung, almost in ribbons around her body. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and Shawn felt the now familiar nausea as it rose, and he swallowed -- hard as he tried to avoid the inevitable.
“Don’t you people have anything better to do than torture me?” He whispered, and gritted his teeth as a small square of yellow cereal fell from her bloody, dirty lips.

“Aw Judas . . .” he said, and clenched his hands into fists. “What is it with you people and the damned cereal? First Apple jacks, then Boo Berrys, and now Captain Crunch?” He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “I’m never eating cold cereal ever again. Come on, why can’t you guys just go into the light like you’re supposed to, and leave me alone?”

And that was when a new wrinkle entered his already complicated world. Shawn’s entire body quivered, as if electricity passed through him as the woman opened her mouth, and a long whisper, accompanied by a small cascade of cereal, left her lips.

“Heeeeelllllp uuuusssss,” the woman hissed, and with each word, Shawn’s head exploded in pain.

For a moment, he gaped at her, absolutely shocked, and then she opened her mouth once more. However, as she started her odd whisper, the pain that exploded behind his eyes was unendurable, and he found himself once more doubled over in agony trying to throw up whatever his body thought it couldn’t use anymore, up to and including half his internal organs.

He was unconscious seconds before the nurse rushed in, and didn’t regain consciousness until halfway through the next day.

And, of course, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, was his father, who looked as if the entire world had crashed around him, and he hadn‘t slept for a week.

“You look like hell,“ Shawn croaked, and his hand shook weakly as he reached for his cup. Henry reached it first, and held it for Shawn, who, without argument drank from it, and nodded when he was done. His head flopped back weakly on his pillow, and he closed his eyes.

“Shawn,” Henry said, his voice low, and Shawn turned his head and looked at his father through cracked eyelids. “There’s something we have to talk about.”

“Damn. Sounds serious,” Shawn attempted humor, but he was too drained, and he shrugged weakly.

“Don’t make this harder than it is,” Henry was suddenly angry, and Shawn nodded.

“Pretty damned difficult as it is,” he agreed as he rolled his eyes. “But, what have I done to piss you off now?”

“Shawn, damn it,“ Henry paused and rubbed a hand over his face, and his voice lowered. “Look, it’s about these hallucinations you’ve been having. I . . .I was talking to the doctor, and he thinks it’d be in your better interest to be moved.”

“Moved?” Shawn was instantly alert, and the shot of adrenaline that passed through his bloodstream gave him the energy he needed to sit up. “What do you mean, moved?”

“The doctor, and incidentally, I, feel that maybe the trauma of being shot . . .” he swallowed, and looked away. “And all that went with it, was more than your mind can handle, and well, he, and I, think you should be moved to the Behavioral Science Unit.”

“Behavioral . . .? You mean the psych ward!?” Shawn stared at his father, who looked at the floor.

“Look, Shawn, you’ve had a traumatic event, a very traumatic event, and we think it’s better if you were with, and near, people who could help you learn to deal . . .“

“Boy, you just can’t wait to lock me up, can you!?” Shawn was angry, and the venom burst from him before he thought. “First when I was 18 and now. What, you didn’t get enough of seeing me from behind bars you want a repeat performance, only with padded walls!?”

“That’s not it, Shawn, and you know it!” Henry retorted angrily. “I want you to get better! Wholly better, and the doctor feels you can’t do that here!”

“I was shot, Dad!” Shawn glared at his father. “I was dead, and let me tell you something, I went though it all! I saw myself on the operating table. I saw you and the others in the waiting room, and I even saw the damned light!”

“What are you saying?” Henry stared at Shawn, who all but snarled.

“Would you like a verbatim report of what you, Gus, Juliet, Karen, and Lassiter said while I was trying to decide whether to live or die? Or maybe you’d like a report on the number of freakin’ hats that were in the room! Would you like to know what was offered to me while I was between life and death? Dad, I was given a choice! Do you understand what that means!? I was given a choice to either go into the light and be permanently dead, or come back here and be alive!“ He waved his hand around the room. “I chose to LIVE, Dad! I chose to come back here, and I’m not crazy, so there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you commit me -- not after choosing, of my own free will to come back here -- hallucinations spitting children’s cereals at me or no hallucinations!”

“You don’t have any choice!” Henry all but shouted back as he jumped out of his chair. “It’s already a done deal! Last night’s little episode clinched it for you, and starting the day after tomorrow, you are going up on the BSU!”

“Get out!” Shawn yelled, and glared hatefully at his father.

“If that’s the way you want it for now, fine, but if you think for one moment that I’m doing this for anything but your health and safety, or that I’m getting any kind of enjoyment out of this, then you need to think again! I almost lost you, Shawn! Again!” His hands clenched into fists. “And I’m not going to go through this again! You’re going to get the help you need right now if you end up hating me for the rest of your life!”

“We went through this once already,” Shawn hissed. “And if you do this to me, if you put me in that place, if you lock me up again, hating you for the rest of my life can be very easily arranged. And then nothing, absolutely nothing you will ever say will ever make me come back to you!”

“You can’t stop it, Shawn,” Henry scowled as he strode to the door. “You’re going. This discussion is over!”

Shawn crossed his arms over his chest, and turned his head away, as he looked at the far wall.

“Get. Out.” He said.

“It’s for your own good, Shawn,“ Henry said, and yanked open the door. The door, fortunately, was hydraulically operated, or there would have been a loud slam at his retreat, and Shawn expelled a long breath as he fell back against his pillow.

“Damn,” he said, and scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew that his father had meant what he said, but he had meant what he said as well. He knew that while it may not have made any sense to anyone else, Shawn had been on the edge of society long enough to know that if they locked him up, drugged him up, and went about changing his purposefully created personality, he may as well kiss the person he was, the person he had so carefully cultivated over the years, goodbye. To his mind, that was a huge travesty of justice, and something to avoid at all costs.

He liked the person he was. He liked the person he had worked hard to become. He liked the person he was always going to be . . .at least until he decided he didn’t, and then it was going to be up to him to change himself.

And whether he could walk, roll in a wheelchair, or crawl out of the damned place, nothing was going to keep him in the hospital any longer. It was time to make a break.