**Trigger warning**

(SHAWN'S POV)

I felt like a piece of shit. A complete fucking asshole. I wanted to bang my head into the wall until I couldn't feel anything anymore. It was all so overwhelming; I couldn't think straight.

After confronting Alex, I went back home to my empty house and walked upstairs to my room. My dad was almost never home, and when he was, it was only to make me feel worse about myself, every damn day. It was never ending torture. He's some big shot business man, doing god knows what. I don't even know what his job is. He never tells me, and if I ask any questions, it would earn me another bloody gash across the shoulder.

I was used to being by myself now; I was almost always alone. There were the usual maids and drivers that my dad had hired, but I refused to use any of them. I can do everything by myself, thank you very much. I'm sick of the everyone's misconception, that I'm just a spoilt brat. I act like a complete douche around my friends, and I always have to put up a fake smile. I was so sick of it, but I couldn't control it. It was just me and my father. My mom had died nearly a year ago.

God, how I missed her.

She was the only person that ever made me happy, and made me actually feel good about myself. The way her smile could light up the entire room, always at ease in her element. I looked at her picture on my mantle, as she smiled at the camera, her blonde hair glistening in the sunlight. She was absolutely breath-taking. Everything about her was beautiful. Her looks, her personality, and the way she always helped others.

When she fell sick, I had never felt more helpless. I had to watch, as she got worse day by day, until she was gone. I had watched her die. I can't even find the words to describe how painful it was to see the life ebb out of my own mother. I don't think I had ever felt so broken. I still remember the last words she whispered to me.

I know you're capable of great things Shawn. Don't let your father dissuade you. You must remember he wasn't always this way. Follow your dreams and always be true to yourself. That's the most important part.

I had failed her. I was not true to myself at all and I hadn't achieved anything. That's why I wanted to go to Stanford badly. It was also where my mother had gone to college. I had to get in on a basketball scholarship. My father was refusing to pay for my college tuition unless it was a business degree, and that was not something I wanted to do. I wanted to make my mom proud. I don't know what I would do with myself if I didn't get in.

A week from now would be the exact one-year anniversary of her death. At least the worst part is over. The first year... it's always the hardest. But I will never stop missing her. And it will never not hurt.

The beatings from my father had started after that. He was always angry at me, like I was the reason his wife was dead. He hated his son, the one piece of garbage he was stuck taking care of. He'd come home once a month and beat the living crap out of me.

I took off my shirt and stood in front of the mirror and tenderly touched the slowly healing scar, diagonally cut across my collar bone till the back of my shoulder. Luckily my shirt normally covered it.  I'd be so happy when I finally went to university, and I could get away from my father. Away from the horrors of this house. Till date, I can't stand to be in a hospital. Even if I go there for a check-up, I always end up throwing up in the bath room.

I looked around at my room, all the expensive and yet worthless things everywhere. The gaming pc, the TV and the balcony outside. My room was unnecessarily huge. The things money can buy...

I put on my basketball shorts and went out to train, so I could clear my mind. Basketball always made me feel better. It's the one thing that I could actually do naturally, without feeling like I was living a lie.

I played for hours, until I could no longer stand on my feet. It was getting dark now, so I went back inside. I took a shower and plopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling with my hands behind my head. I can't believe the bullshit that I'd done today. I'd hurt Kayla, Katherine, Alex and that other Larkin guy. God, why do I do such stupid things? When I'm out at like a party or something, its like my mind disassociates from my body. I've slept with so many girls, I couldn't count them off my fingers. Truth is, I've never really felt a connection with Kayla. She was pretty snobby and gossiped too much for her own good, but it was not her fault. She'd been brought up like that, spoiled by her family. Still, she did not deserve the treatment I gave her.

Then there was Alex. Why did I yell at her like that? I took out all my frustration and anger on her, even though she didn't deserve it. As annoying as she was, there was something different about her. She was the only person who actually talked smack to my face, and didn't immediately start swooning the minute she saw me. That was most girls' reaction. She challenged me, and I liked that.

I'll just be happy once this nightmare is over.

*********************************

(ALEX'S POV)

"God, I hope Tyler's okay. I just got Ezra's text."

"He's pretty tough. I'm sure he'll be all right. We should just give him some time."

Megan and I were in my room, eating popcorn and ignoring the movie playing on my laptop. The moment Ezra found out what happened, he had rushed to his best friend's side, despite our protests about giving him space. It had been hours now since it had happened, and it was close to mid night. My parents weren't at home and Nick was already asleep. Megan and I had planned to check up on Tyler tomorrow after school, and bring him any homework he missed and I would tell him about practice, since we had a combined one tomorrow.

"It's pretty late, I should probably go home." Megan announced, and got up from the bed.

"You aren't staying over today?"

"Nah. I've got to drive my sisters to school tomorrow. You cool with taking the subway?"

"Yeah. Bye!"

Megan left and I turned off the laptop and got ready to go to bed. I better wake up on time tomorrow, I'm always late when I take the subway.

Luckily, I managed to wake up on time the next day, and went to school comfortably. It was nice not to be running like a crazy person for once.

When I walked in, I was met by Ezra, Megan and Veronica (Tyler wasn't there of course).

"It's terrible. I wanted to meet him yesterday but I was stuck at cheerleading practice, and Kayla would not let me leave. She was already pissed off after what happened." Veronica was saying.

"Alex, Ezra and I are going over to his house after school to cheer him up. You're more than welcome to join." Megan interjected, and Veronica agreed.

For the rest of the school day, I tried to concentrate in class but it was impossible. All I could think about was how Tyler was doing right now, but I had to wait till after practice to seem him. Ugh.

Speaking of practice, it did not go well that day. I wasn't sure how good I was, but I felt pretty average. This time we didn't play a match, just boring old drills. We had a game on Sunday, so you'd think we would be more hyped.

Shawn on the other hand, looked even worse. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, his movements sluggish instead of reflexive. It was like watching a sloth trying to play basketball. He missed several times, his eyes unfocused and barely trying, earning him a yelling from Coach William about his lack of effort so close to the game. It was rough. But the jerk deserved it. He didn't try to speak to me the entire time, and I didn't speak to him either.

Finally, we got to go to Tyler's house. We rang the doorbell, and the door was opened by his mom.

"Hey, Mrs. Thompson, how are you?" Ezra asked politely, and she gave a small smile. "I've been better. You guys go on upstairs, Tyler is in his room."

We thanked her and walked in. I knocked on Tyler's door, which was new for me since we usually just barged in whenever we wanted. It was funny.

A gruff voice said come in and we entered. He was sitting on his bed playing a game, surrounded by bags of chips and candy. He didn't look too bad, but he was clearly stress eating again. He always ate like crazy whenever he was anxious.

"Guys? What are you doing here?" He asked.

"We've come for you, dummy."

He stood up and Veronica immediately ran up to him and gave him a hug. "Hey Ty. How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there."

"We wanted to check up on you. I brought the homework you missed." She said, and put the books on his desk. He smiled at us gratefully. "Thanks guys. It's really nice of you to come and check up on me, but really, I'm fine. Or rather, I will be. The funeral is next week... will you guys-?"

"Of course, we'll be there." Megan interjected, before he could finish his sentence.

"Thanks. But if you don't mind... I'd like to be alone right now."

We nodded and walked out, closing the door and letting him be. All of us had our own things to do after that, so I went back home and did my homework. I didn't have anything to do today. Normally, I would have worked on my project with Shawn, but I wasn't interested in seeing his stupid face right now. It just made me angry all over again.

Suddenly getting an idea, I went into the basement and rummaged through the boxes, until I found the old punching bag that my dad used to make me use to train. When I first started playing basketball, he thought this would be a good idea to help me increase my strength. Just looking at it brought back memories, the hours on end I would spend hitting this thing.

I hooked it up to the ceiling, wrapped some bandages around my hands, and started punching. It felt great, taking out all my frustration onto it. I don't know for how long I kept hitting the bag, trying out different moves that my dad had taught me. I'd managed to remember most of it.

I only realized I hadn't eaten dinner when I felt my stomach growl. I stopped practicing and went back upstairs to the kitchen. There was a plate of food covered in plastic wrap on the counter and a note next to it from my mom, saying that she would be back late.

I gobbled it up and went to my room. I took a quick shower, changed into my pjs, and plopped down on the bed. God, I was exhausted. I had just started to drift of to sleep when my phone made a notification sound. Seriously, why do people text me at such annoying times?

Groaning, I leaned across and picked it up, seeing a message from an unknown number. What the hell?

I clicked on the notification and opened it. The entire text only read two words-

I'm sorry.

Hey guys. Sorry for the ultra depressing chapter. Anyway, what do you think of this sensitive side of Shawn? Is he really a good guy?