I don't own Boy Meets World (period)

Shawn was happy.

His life with John was okay. He wished he was with his real father, but Mr. Turner was a good guy. Shawn knew that he would always have a home with him.

Cory was sill the best friend he always was. Topanga, as his best friend's best girl friend, was okay.

His life was pretty near perfect. Almost Heaven.

Then it became a living hell.


"Shawny, you coming for dinner tonight?" Cory called across the hallway, like he'd done every other day for three years.

"Sure Cor, see you latter." Shawn hoisted the heavy back pack onto his shoulders and started down the hallway, towards his home.

As soon as he walked in the door, Shawn knew something was different. He put his backpack down gently and switched on the lights. The smell of alcohol was so strong it was nausiating. He had no idea where the smell was coming from. Shawn walked across the room and pulled a Coke out of the refrigerator. He dropped it as soon as he turned around.

Shawn's father was standing there, a beer bottle in hand. His clothes were torn and dirty and his words came out slurred. "Come here, Shawny Boy."

Shawn backed away. "No...you're drunk. Stay away from me!" Panic snuck into his voice. Shawnn remembered what had happened the last time his father was drunk.

"I said get over here!" Chet Hunter's words were slow but deafiningly loud. Shawn winced at the sound but continued to back away. His hip struck the counter.Shawn couldn't move back any further.

His father started advancing. Slow, deliberate steps, never taking his eyes away from Shawn's face. Those eyes were bright and-and hungry looking.

"You'll do what I say, boy." Chet Hunter raised his hand and brought it down hard on Shawn's face. Shawn bit back a scream.

"You'll learn discpline, boy, if I have to teach you it all day."

His hand came down again and again. Shawn covered his face with his hands and tried to fight him off. Chet was at least three times heavier and a whole lot bigger then he was. Eventually, he didn't even feel it anymore. He was only dully aware of the spots creeping into his vision. He didn't remember passing out afterwards.

Or maybe he didn't want to.


My motto-no reviews, no chapter.