Beacon in the Darkness

26. Birthdays and Betrayals

Warning: 

Slightly mature content ahead!

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Shawn gripped the neck of his guitar tighter than normal, the strings cutting into his fingers painfully. He'd come to his room to escape the explosive anger building in his chest. But once he'd arrived he couldn't decide whether to play or smash the guitar against the desk, watching as it exploded into a million tiny pieces. The latter sounded as if it would be a bit more satisfying to the beast clawing its way to the surface, but he'd paid a pretty penny for the instrument and didn't want to dip back into his fund to buy another. He was sure his mother hadn't intended his trust fund to be used to replace items he'd damaged while having a fit. He'd been lucky she'd set it up to allow him to tap into a portion when he turned sixteen in the first place.

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the hand holding his guitar. A knock sounded at his door.

"Shawn, please," Clarissa said, her voice conveying the hurt and regret she'd expressed to him earlier. But Shawn didn't care. If she felt so sorry, she could just spit out whatever it was she was hiding from him.

"Leave me alone," he growled back, placing the instrument roughly next to the bed and climbing to his feet. He walked over to the window and stared out across the way. A dim light shone through the dark curtains hiding Camila's room from his view. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and raised his palm, laying it flat against the pane. A very large part of him wished he was over there with her right then.

"If you'd just let me explain ..."

Shawn whipped around and moved toward the door, stopping just before he reached it and clenching his fists at his sides. "Explain what? How you can't tell me anymore? Because if that's it, then I'm really not in the mood."

"I told you I'd tell you if I could, but it isn't my place. This is between your father and you."

"He stopped being my father the moment he put a bullet into my mother and left me to fend for myself."

"Shawn ..."

He raised his hand and rubbed his forehead between his thumb and middle finger. "I'm really tired, Clarissa. Of all of this." Shawn knew the sound of him using her name would drive his point home. "Just ... leave me alone."

He heard her sigh and whisper a soft, "I'm sorry," confirming the fact that she wouldn't give him any more information, before her footsteps receded. Shawn lifted his hands and fisted them in his hair. His chest squeezed with the inclination to go after her, to let her apology stand, to try to understand where she was coming from. But he couldn't. Not this time. Too many people had withheld things from him in his life. Too much had been told to him in half truths and lies, and he was sick of not knowing anything about his own past, about the people who claimed to love him.