He didn’t know why he expected it to be any different, it was always the same on the weekends, especially the long weekends, and he was just there to be the punching bag, something to take out their anger on when everything went wrong. He curled into himself, trying to protect the important organs inside of his body, but it wasn’t working out too well and he sensed another trip to see the doctor that was close by. Not that he could tell them when he decided to go, they had to be secrets, they always had to be secrets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he shouted, because it was all that he could really do, but it still didn’t stop, not until they got tired of hitting him.<br/><br/>They left him there, like they always did when they were done. Curled and broken on the floor, this time in the kitchen, among the ruin of a busted and splintered chair. He didn't move, too scared that they'd return and start in on him all over again. So that's where he spent the night.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Tuesday morning came, and while normally he was loud and caused trouble, it was like the start of most school weeks, he’d return, quiet and hidden behind the brim of a torn and greasy, once olive green military cap. It was an oddly hot day in fall, and everyone was dressed accordingly, except for him. He had on a long sleeve beneath his ragged looking tee, and in his usual baggy jeans with the rough patchwork done on it to mend the tears. Today he wasn’t speaking unless spoken too, being as formal as he could in everything he said, especially to the teachers. They all suspected, but no one wanted to say anything to him, he was just that kid who was never seen at lunch or on breaks.<br/><br/>“Mister Sauvages?” a teacher was suddenly saying to him, like she wasn't sure that it was him, and he had to stop to turn towards her, refusing to look up. “Yes ma’am?” he asked, looking at her legs and the floor behind them. “Is everything alright with you? Aren’t you hot?” she asked, concerned as she reached for him, this was the boy that always caused problems in her class, but almost never at the start of the week, she'd noticed. He pulled away before her fingers could even touch him or the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m fine ma’am, just don’t get hot.” He lied to her, despite the fact he had hints of sweat running down the side of his face. It was easy to lie now, they rolled off his tongue without thought. He quickly turned away from her right after, knowing he could be figured out and ran off down the hall away from her. “Shawn! Do not run in the halls!” she called after him, hoping a less formal approach would work. But it didn’t as he rounded the farthest corner from her at full speed. It hurt to run, it hurt to breath, but it hurt more when rounding the corner lead to him colliding full force with someone, a fellow student far taller than him. His bag went flying, and he sent their text books scattering everywhere. He let out a deep groan from the force, his likely cracked ribs taking another hit, leaving him dazed for only a moment.<br/><br/>Coming to his senses, Shawn tried to hurriedly climb off of them, to scramble across the floor for his bag and hat. Mostly his hat. He needed his hat, he needed to hide the cut above his right eye, more of a gash really, and the bruises, he was supposed to hide the bruises. But it seemed he was unable to get off of them, something kept him on top, not sure if he was caught, or being held. “No, let go… Please, let go.” He begged in a soft voice, peeking between them for a moment to try and see why he was stuck. Not that he would be able to see, his father had broken his glasses purposely over the weekend, and everything was a blur to his clear sky blue eyes. He squinted in an attempted to focus, before giving up and trying to get off of him again. They were looking, everyone was starting to look, he needed to hide.