"Shawn, hurry up! The game's started already." Cory Matthews' voice boomed through the phone.
"I'm hurrying, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can." Shawn Hunter smacked the phone down into its receiver and hurried back into the bathroom. He knelt down on the floor beside the tub and picked up the sponge off of the ledge where he had left it. He was scrubbing and scrubbing but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the red stain of blood off the white tile floor.
He knew that he probably shouldn't bother going to Cory's. His father wouldn't be happy if he knew he'd left when he was supposed to be grounded. But then again, when was his father ever happy?
Chet Hunter's wife had left him again for the third time in a year. Shawn knew that that number would have been much larger if he had counted the amount of times Virna had left his father in total. A stupidly large number that Shawn had lost count of.
Shawn wasn't sure where his father was at that particular moment. He supposed at a bar or someone else's trailor. Or a police station. Either way he wasn't home with Shawn to watch the game like he'd promised his son. He was out doing something that he'd promised his son he wouldn't do.
"So why should I keep my promise to him?" Shawn asked himself, throwing the sponge at the ground, forcefully. He paced the floors of the small trailer, stalling, hoping his father would come in the door, but he knew it was useless. He would deal with the consequences of his actions when he came home. That is if Chet even notices that his son is missing.
Shawn opened his eyes abruptly and stared up at Jonathon Turner. "What?"
"Where do you think you're going, buddy?"
"I don't think so! It's 4 o'clock in the morning, Hunter." He took the leather jacket from Shawn's hands and tossed it over the coat hook with the others. He raised an eyebrow. "Were you sleep walking?"
Shawn sat down on the couch and wiped his eyes. "I think there was blood on the floor. I never cleaned it up and it was mine."
Shawn moaned. "I should never have left. He kept his promise that time and I blew it."
Jonathon sat down beside the kid and put a hand on his back. "Shawn, that was a dream, man. You're okay."
"NO!" He jumped up to his feet. "He wouldn't have had to hit me if I had just listened but I had to go and screw it up, yet again! Way to go, idiot!"
"You're not an idiot, Hunter. Hey, look at me." Jonathon stood and grabbed hold of Shawn's shoulders. "What are you talking about? Who hit you?"
"I'm an idiot. He told me. I'm his son!" He yelled, illucidly.
"No, Shawn! Wake up. You're dreaming, buddy."
"Dad? Stop! I love you, dad!" The boy wailed, shielding his head behind his arms.
Jonathon was starting to panic. "Shawn! SHAWN! It's okay, it's okay. Hunter, wake up." He stared helplessly at the kid, his opened eyes blank and unalert. He cupped the boy's face in his hands, lightly tapping his palm against his cheek in attempt to wake him. "Come on, Hunter. Wake up!"
Shawn's cheeks were streaked with tears, his lips trembled as he cried. "Dad! Daddy!"
Suddenly, blinking hard, the scared, whimpering little boy who just stood infront of him disappeared and was replaced with the Shawn Hunter he'd always known. "What are you doing?"
Jonathon wiped a tear away from the boy's cheek with his thumb, his hand still cupping his reddened face. He gave him a hard look.
"Oh, not again." Shawn sighed.
"Let's talk about your dad, kid."