Rehabilitation (Application prompt for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
realmofthemuse)
Sep. 15th, 2007 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
head_psychic"Okay, fine there were extenuating circumstances, the arresting officer was my father, he was trying to teach me a lesson."
"Did you learn it?"
"I learned I hated my father, so sure."
---
He sat in the car, silent, as they were driving home at last. For the first time in his life he didn’t know what to say, didn’t have a witty reply. He stared out of the window, watched passing cars, listened to the low hum of the engine and couldn’t say a word.
"I hope you learned your lesson, Shawn."
Lessons. Always lessons. He couldn’t answer his dad; his tongue was thick and heavy, his throat felt like somebody was choking him and he simply couldn’t speak. It was like he was trapped in a black, ugly cloud. It hurt and he couldn’t get out. He knew that he was hating and it felt horrible.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot aff-..."
"Dad, I just borrowed that car! I mean, I didn’t have any evil intentions, what’s the dealio! Come on, I’ll just bring it back and-..."
"If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you."
"Dad! You can’t be serious-!"
The night in the holding cell had been awful. Apparently the bad guys from Santa Barbara didn’t like little 18-year-old boys who dared to enter the cell without having done anything worse than a little car theft. Especially not when said 18-year-old kid was the son of one of the best police officers in Santa Barbara. He had ended up on the floor, clutching his stomach in pain, almost dying from the fear that something else, something worse than punching would follow. Luckily they had left him alone, laughing, calling him a sissy and returned to being bad and gruffy.
His hand lightly touched his abdomen and he grinded his teeth so he would not wince. For a moment he wanted to tell his dad, wanted to yell at him if he had any idea what it had been like in there, wanted to cause him a bad consciousness so much… but would he care? Would he actually give a damn? Or would he just go on with his lecture?
You know, I’ve seen this cartoon. Where the little bears always run to the big bear when there are problems, because daddy bear is big and strong and will always protect them from harm.
You rather put me into a cell with drug dealers and murderers and street gang members.
You got any idea how scared I was?
This was what growing up was all about? To get angry and bitter and hate the people around you?
"Did you learn your lesson, Shawn?"
Yeah. I’m never going to grow up. This just feels awful. Let me never hate anyone again.
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 464 (without episode quotes)
"Did you learn it?"
"I learned I hated my father, so sure."
---
He sat in the car, silent, as they were driving home at last. For the first time in his life he didn’t know what to say, didn’t have a witty reply. He stared out of the window, watched passing cars, listened to the low hum of the engine and couldn’t say a word.
"I hope you learned your lesson, Shawn."
Lessons. Always lessons. He couldn’t answer his dad; his tongue was thick and heavy, his throat felt like somebody was choking him and he simply couldn’t speak. It was like he was trapped in a black, ugly cloud. It hurt and he couldn’t get out. He knew that he was hating and it felt horrible.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot aff-..."
"Dad, I just borrowed that car! I mean, I didn’t have any evil intentions, what’s the dealio! Come on, I’ll just bring it back and-..."
"If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you."
"Dad! You can’t be serious-!"
The night in the holding cell had been awful. Apparently the bad guys from Santa Barbara didn’t like little 18-year-old boys who dared to enter the cell without having done anything worse than a little car theft. Especially not when said 18-year-old kid was the son of one of the best police officers in Santa Barbara. He had ended up on the floor, clutching his stomach in pain, almost dying from the fear that something else, something worse than punching would follow. Luckily they had left him alone, laughing, calling him a sissy and returned to being bad and gruffy.
His hand lightly touched his abdomen and he grinded his teeth so he would not wince. For a moment he wanted to tell his dad, wanted to yell at him if he had any idea what it had been like in there, wanted to cause him a bad consciousness so much… but would he care? Would he actually give a damn? Or would he just go on with his lecture?
You know, I’ve seen this cartoon. Where the little bears always run to the big bear when there are problems, because daddy bear is big and strong and will always protect them from harm.
You rather put me into a cell with drug dealers and murderers and street gang members.
You got any idea how scared I was?
This was what growing up was all about? To get angry and bitter and hate the people around you?
"Did you learn your lesson, Shawn?"
Yeah. I’m never going to grow up. This just feels awful. Let me never hate anyone again.
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 464 (without episode quotes)
