Richmoore Institute - 6. Chapter 6 - Letting Go

If you truly love someone, you'd want him to be happy, no matter whom he is with. If you cannot seem to be happy for him, then it has to follow that you do not truly love him; and hence should be letting him go regardless. Hence, when it comes to the matters of true love, there really isn't a reason why one should hold on to something that does not belong to one. Though such wisdom is easier said, than done.

* * *

"The bat has your finger prints on it," uttered the stout LAPD officer who was tasked with the responsibility of interrogating Shawn. Unlike other typical interrogations, in the bleak room painted white – whereby the only adornment was a wide one-way mirror – the interrogator was far outnumbered by the accused and his affiliates – Shawn, the family lawyer and Claire, Shawn's mother.

“Did I not already say that it was my own baseball bat?” Shawn replied in frustration; the indignant tone had caused both the family lawyer and Claire to cringe.

“So are you admitting to doing this?” the officer inquired once more, mildly resentful that he was delegated the investigation of a juvenile case.

“Really? That's your first deduction? You call yourself an officer?” Shawn quipped insolently.

“Shawn, that's enough!” Claire berated promptly before the officer had a chance to spew a train of unkind words at the 17 year old before him.

Shawn himself did not know what contributed to his unusually foul behaviour – especially in a formal setting in which he had never failed to demonstrate impeccable manners and discretion. Expressing such impudence towards the officer definitely would not have done any good towards his defence and only serve to cement his image as a juvenile prone to violence.

* * *

Sam had spent two sleepless nights in the hospital beside Alistair. After hours of surgery when Alistair was first rushed to the emergency room, the doctor had informed Sam that Alistair was no longer in a critical condition and should regain consciousness within the next few days. Although Sam had no reason to doubt the doctor, be it for love or for guilt, he found himself unable to leave hospital grounds before being able to lock gaze with Alistair to ascertain that Alistair was well alive. To Sam, it was beyond the shadow of doubt that if it were not for Sam, Alistair would not have been lying unconscious on the hospital bed.

Alistair's father had arrived all the way from New York, after making emergency arrangements, on the second day after Alistair's admission to the hospital; the rest of his family were scheduled to arrive the coming weekend.

On the third day, as Sam laid in trance – at Alistair's bedside with his head resting on the bed, and his hand interlocked with Alistair's – he felt slight twitching movements from Alistair's hand. The twitching grew in intensity which shocked Sam to full alertness. He awoke from his trance to a sight that caused streams of relief and bliss to flow to every nerve in his body – Alistair's groggy eyes laid slightly open as he barely whispered, “Sam.” Although Alistair's head was wrapped with bandages and bruises were palpable throughout, Sam thought that he had never bore witness to a sight more beautiful than that that laid before him.

Alistair's family arrived shortly after he regained consciousness. With Alistair's family there to keep Alistair company and to stand vigil, Sam decided it was time for him to pay Shawn a visit.

* * *

The McGuire family had a summer house situated within 100 miles of Los Angeles as well as Richmoore Institute. Bail was seldom an issue for a juvenile offence, hence as soon as she could, Claire had brought Shawn out of the austere interrogations and unwanted media attention to the space which they would be calling home for the next few days.

Shawn needed the reprieve, and he could not have been more grateful that his mother had flew to California to take care of him. The last few days in the police station as well as in the summer house, Shawn had spent in limbo. His trial would be in a few day's time and yet he was still unable to make sense of the mess he was in. Staring listlessly into the ceiling in a dark room where sunlight was unable to penetrate the impregnable curtains, Shawn laid on his bed pondering his fate.

“Shawn, it's me,” Claire's knock on the door had startled Shawn. He did feel a little guilty for being horrible company for the last few days, but his lack of will prevented him from doing otherwise. How the hell did I get into such a mess?

“Sam's here to see you, Shawn,” Claire had continued. Before Shawn could voice his objection at the prospect of company, the door had swung open as Sam walked through.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shawn uttered with only a tinge of malice.

“You look like shit,” Sam replied, dismissing Shawn's question as he sat down on the bed beside Shawn. Dark circles robbed Shawn of his otherwise angelic and mesmerizing eyes, and his usual neat and glistening jet black hair were unkempt and dishevelled. It was obvious to Sam that Shawn had been eschewing good sleep and a shower for the last few days.

“How's Alistair?” Shawn had asked with hints of regret in his tone.

“He woke up just this morning,” Sam said as he unintentionally yawned. Sam knew he was in a state not much better relatively to Shawn. The sleepless nights in the hospital had also left dark circles on his pale white visage, and days of not showering had left a layer of grime on his skin.

“A year in juvenile under a misdemeanour, and a year in jail under a felony,” Shawn said spontaneously without having been prompted.

“So what's the story?” Sam finally decided to ask the question he had come for.

“Haven't you heard? You had a crush on Alistair when he first came to our school; I was jealous. When you danced with him during the Autumn Dance, I became furious. The entire student population can bare witness to that. And then I somehow found out about your rendezvous in King's Park, and rode there myself with my baseball bat on a mission to batter Alistair out of his consciousness. My history of taunting and bullying further evidence that this was all within my capability,” Shawn recited.

“Alistair could not remember anything after the dance. Both he and Lizzy, along with Lizzy's posse had stayed longer than the rest of us. He sent Lizzy home with the carriage by herself before walking towards King's Park. After that, he had no recollection of the events that ensue,” Sam explained.

“Amnesia from the concussion?” Shawn inquired.

“That was the initial thought, until they found faint traces of Flunitrazepam in his blood and plasma as part of their standard blood test procedure. They subsequently performed a urine test to confirm; he was drugged,"

"The police had not said anything about this," Shawn said; he had hoped that this discovery was in his favour.

"It takes 30 minutes for Flunitrazepam to take effect. He had quite a few drinks within that time period. A lot of the drinks he had was also spiked with alcohol, so it was hard for him to tell which drink that initially caused a feeling of drowsiness. With your popularity, there was also a chance that you had instructed someone to pass him the drink that night. So the discovery didn't really help pinpoint the prepetrator." Sam gave a light chuckle with regards to what he had to say next, "The police did not even bat a lash at the underage drinking – might be an LA thing."

Shawn sighed in disappointment.

"Shawn, tell me what happened," proded Sam.

"You believe me?" Shawn asked. At that very moment, he felt a sense of jubilance amidst the depression he was sunk into – even if the world sentenced him to jail, if Sam had believed that he was innocent, he would feel that much better.

"I don't know what to believe, but I do want to hear you out," Sam continued.

"After I sent you home, I walked back to my room. I remember it was around 10:15 when I got back into my room. At roughly half an hour later, when I was lounging around, I heard a violent knock on my door. I opened it to a sight of a tall and built man in a ski mask chasing a guy of your height with curly blonde hair in the hallway. They disappeared within seconds," Shawn recalled from his memory.

"You thought it was me?" Sam inquired to which Shawn nodded.

"I ran after them immediately. The blonde boy maintained his speed at a good few feet ahead of the guy with the ski mask who was in turn a good few feet ahead of me. I was not able to get a clear view of the blonde boy. I should have figured something was wrong by then; you can't run, even if it's to save your own life," Shawn gave a light chuckled along with Sam.

"But you know... if it was you, I would have never forgave myself if I didn't chase after you. I chased them all the way to King's Park as they ran past a body that laid dormant on the grass. I was about to run past the body when I noticed that it had looked familiar. A second look confirmed that it was Alistair, and beside him was my baseball bat, which I had not even notice was missing in my room. That was when it sunk in – it was a trap. I knelt beside Alistair and checked to see if there was anything I could do. I was still stunned by the revelation, but before I could compose myself to call the ambulance, you had arrived, screaming. I had never seen you so angry and upset before, it was as if you have lost your reason to live," Shawn said, tears starting to brim in his eyes as he revisted the memory that had haunted him for the past few days.

"I made a few calls on the way here; I head they never found any blood splatter on your shirt," Sam said, his head was beginning to feel heavy from his lethargy. There is so much left to do; I can't sleep now.

"My lawyer plans to use that to support my story, but he said that the district attorney will no doubt attribute it to my long history of martial arts training; and now they'll probably throw in the fact that he was intoxicated befoerhand," Shawn sighed.

"Thanks Shawn, for telling me everything," Sam said sincerely. "Get some rest." As soon as Sam stood up, he felt dizziness rushed through him and was close to fainting until he steeled himself. Come on, I just need a few more days.

Shawn's arm reached up to hold him instantaneously as he sprang up from his bed. "You need to sleep too; where are you planning to go to?"

When Sam hesitated to answer Shawn, he boldly guessed, "Are you going to investigate who was behind this?"

Sam barely nodded as his eyelids grew heavy. His body could not resist resting its weight on Shawn's firm hold.

"Come lie down for a few hours, you can leave after you've had some rest," Shawn led Sam to his bed. Sam's body shrieked with delight at Shawn's offer, and his mind had no choice but to capitulate.

The bed was more than large enough to fit the two of them, and once Shawn had placed Sam down on one side of the bed, he laid himself back down and went back to staring at the ceiling. He would feel the warmth emanating from Sam's body. It provided him with a considerable amount of comfort as he basked in the temporary bliss of knowing that Sam not only did not harbour hatred towards him, but had suspected that it might not have been him.

Subconsciously, Sam's body crept up to Shawn and wrapped an arm around Shawn's torso as he laid his head to rest on Shawn's broad chest. Shawn had nearly gasped at the intimacy.

“Sam?” Shawn barely whispered to which he received no reply. Shawn could hear and feel Sam's deep breathing on his chest. Unwittingly, his smile grew broad. Even if Sam had not consciously closed the distance between the two of them, it gave him bliss to know that Sam's subconscious was aching for the intimacy. The close contact with Sam as well as the weight of his fiancé’s head on his chest poured a sense of relief and serenity into Shawn. Shawn's last thought before he went to slumber with bliss was, “Maybe both of us might actually get a good rest out of this.”

* * *

Sam had been meandering around King's Park for hours. He was beginning to admit that he was not as great of a sleuth as he thought he could be. Who else knew about the rendezvous? Earlier that day, he went back to the hospital to visit Alistair and his family – he had not seen them for more than a year now; the family affection, which he was greatly deprived of from his own family was very welcome. After providing the brief version of why he had to leave New York so abruptly to Alistair and his family – which mainly involved an the evil, unreasonable and cold-hearted queen who wanted all communication ceased before he was married away for political reasons – he got the opportunity to ask Alistair if he had told anyone about their secret meeting at King's Park. Alistair said no.

Did Shawn really overhear our conversation from the end of the hallway? That seemed implausible. Sam also had an intuitive inkling that Shawn was not the culprit of this crime, although he was not ready to jump to such conclusion without solid evidence. Hence, out of leads, Sam had returned to the crime scene to find out if his observation skills would earn him some clues or leads that would be worth pursuing.

King's Park was quiet as usual; other than the occasional staff member or instructor jogging pass. Nature apparently had not been on the “cool list” for the teenagers in Richmoore for years now. It had been a few days since the incident, but Sam had hoped that due to its seclusion, any evidence left behind by the parties involved would remain for him to uncover since the weather had been kind to him – no rain or storm in the last few days. He assiduously inspected his surroundings as he paced King's Park – scrutinizing for footprints, dropped objects or anything else out of the ordinary. Something had caught his eyes behind the row of privet hedge a few feet away from where Alistair had laid that night. His attention was captured by three distinctive dents forming gentle holes in the ground. If one were to connect the dents, a perfect triangle would be formed. Tripod? Sam stood silent for a good minute attempting to decipher if the clue before him was relevant to the case at hand. He sharply lifted his head as a revelation hit him. Betty.

* * *

“Betty, are you in there? It's Sam,” Sam was knocking relentlessly on Betty's room door.

“Oh, hi Sam!” After a short moment, the door swung open revealing a hysterical Betty – or rather Betty being her usual self.

“Come in, come in,” Betty offered with the utmost enthusiasm. Betty's room was painted bright pink; posters of celebrities hugged the wall. The entire room could be described in one word – gaudy.

“Don't you have something for the police?” Sam asked; reluctant to indulge Betty with charades and pretence.

“What? Police?” Betty asked bemused; her eyes wide open.

“Betty, I'm tired,” Sam responded in a resigned and defeated tone, it was as close as begging as Sam could have got.

Betty's countenance became stern, all traces of innocence and daintiness wiped from it. “Took you long enough,” She sighed. “I was very close to not waiting for you.”

“Come with me,” Betty ordered with confidence before Sam sought further clarification at her comment. Sam followed Betty through the halls of the campus, unaware of their destination. Out of the dormitories, they walked through classrooms, offices and other amenities of Richmoore, arriving at a relatively old section of the campus. Richmoore was a school with a history and hence had obviously went through countless expansion, restoration and renovations. Sam himself had only ventured down through the section in which they stopped a handful of times – based on Sam's recollection from the tours he has had, it was a relatively unremarkable section of Richmoore for storage purposes.

Betty stuck a key into a rusty keyhole nested on a relatively decrepit wooden door. As soon as the door swung open, she moved to face the electronic panel that hung on the wall beside the door. Sam noted that Betty had promptly entered a password on the panel, provided a finger print, and even brought her left eye towards the panel for an eye scan.

“Come in,” Betty guided Sam into the room as she shut the door. The windowless room was brightly illuminated by rows of fluorescent light. The walls were coated with dark metallic paint and metal cabinets covered them on all four sides. A long table laid in the middle of the room. Although it could have fitted a dozen chairs, only one could be seen. Computer screens, keyboards, and other electronic gadgets covered the table.

Betty walked towards one of the metal cabinets. “This is what you need,” she said as she passed Sam a disk that was obtained from within the cabinet.

As he took the disk from Betty, Sam raised an eyebrow, and hoped that Betty would provide further elaboration without prompting.

Betty sighed and deliberated for a moment before she determined to indulge Sam. “Within is a video footage I captured using a night vision camera on the incident. A men with a ski-mask had carried an immobile Alistair to the scene and had beat him using a baseball bat. Shortly after he left, three men could be seen running across the park, one of them Shawn. The video also shows Shawn stopping to examine Alistair before you came into the scene and shouted in panic.”

So he was framed. Sam stood silent to reflect on his discovery. “How did you know we were going to meet at King's Park?” Sam inquired. Despite having the evidence he was looking for, his curiosity was far from sated.

Betty led Shawn to another metal cabinet and took out from it a dark glass half-globe that fitted on her palm.

“The hallway security camera?” Sam responded suspiciously. “But...”

“Do you know from where the Crawford family obtains its fortune?” Betty interrupted.

“The Crawford family runs a tabloid business that revolves around celebrity and high profile individuals on the surface,” Sam recited but hesitated towards the last three words of his sentence.

“And...” Betty prompted.

“Rumours has it that the Crawford's main business line is entrenched in intelligence gathering and espionage for international corporations and governments alike,” Sam said, to which Betty nodded in approval.

“A few years back when Richmoore had decided to replace its security cameras in the dormitory hallways, my sister was involved in the scheme to temper all the cameras to include a hidden microphone within the camera. From then on, the Crawfords not only had video access but also audio access in the dorm hallways,” Betty uttered as she led Sam to one of the monitors in the middle of the room. She pulled out a video that played back the brief conversation which Sam had with Alistair on the morning of the dance.

Sam frowned. He had known for awhile regarding Betty's dainty façade – he had relied on the intelligence and astute awareness that she hid from the public eye for the mouse trap that he had set a month ago which propelled Alistair into the higher echelons within Richmoore in terms of popularity. Though with what Betty had willingly revealed to him, he knew that he had underestimated the scope of the Crawfords' operations at Richmoore.

“Though I noted something interesting that I had missed before,” Betty interrupted Sam's thoughts. Her tone was laced with reprehension, clearly directed at her own oversight. Betty pulled out another footage of a different camera in hallway and played it for Sam. “Do you know what the difference is?”

The footage simply showed a group of students chatting while sauntering the hallways – the conversation was nothing of significance. The lighting of the video was slightly different evidently due to the different location. Though Sam also noted that the audio was distinctively clearer as compared to the one Sam had just heard which seemed muffled in comparison. “The audio?” Sam answered, unsure if it was what Betty was looking for.

Betty gave a slight approving nod. “I checked through all the other cameras, and none sounded as muffled as the one right outside your room. I also looked through historical footages and noted that the change in audio quality only started the first week of this school year – which eliminates the possibility that it was the fault of the microphone. I thought somebody must have done something in the camera to have caused an obstruction to the sound waves. After the incident with Alistair, I hypothesised that someone must have installed an additional microphone in the camera outside your room and since there was not much free room within the camera anyway, they might have had coincidentally planted it over the hidden microphone which my sister installed. I walked along the hallways around your room a few days ago with a wireless wave detector to record the signals; I ran it through some data analysis and confirmed that there was another source of radio wave which carried sound wave information omitting from the camera outside your room.”

Sam's frown grew as Betty explained. “Sam, whoever planned this attack had the ability to install a microphone on an already operational camera while somehow bypassing the video footage – probably through a creation of a loop by hacking into Richmoore's security system. My video footages are received via Richmoore's system as well so I am also unable to confirm how it was done. Not only that, they managed to plan slipping drugs into Alistair's drink, finding an individual that looked like you, and finding someone to bash Alistair all within a day of learning about the rendezvous,” Betty drawled with concern.

Sam stared into Betty's eyes; his were gleaming with a tinge of fear and trepidation. He did not mind dabbling in political intrigue if it were simply with regards to vying for popularity and status in Richmoore. The fear was instigated by the fact that the perpetrator of the crime was ruthless enough to send a person into hospital and potentially another into jail – the stakes were simply out of Sam's comfort zone.

“Sam, go give the disc to the police. I promise you I'll continue to investigate in order to find out who is behind this. Though I have an inkling that our best bet right now would be to wait. We'd have to pretend not to be overly cautious while remaining so as to not alert the mastermind behind this. Since they had seemingly failed this round, I believe that they would embark on another plan after this. The more desperate they are, the easier it would be for us to pinpoint the true mastermind behind the plot. I'll increase my vigilance but please be careful too,” Betty spoke empathetically.

“Thanks Betty,” Sam gave a grateful nod. “Though if you don't mind me asking, why are you trying to help us when you know that whoever is behind this is dangerous?"

Betty sat herself gracefully at the chair in the middle of the room. “It's a dangerous industry – holding the secrets of so many against them. Crawfords who wish to enter the family business must take an oath not to meddle in the matters of the heart. Crawfords who do not wish to enter have to be disowned from the family for their own safety,” Betty uttered wistfully. “If a Crawford ever so unfortunately falls in love, he or she would only be able to watch from afar, never to experience the warmth of reciprocity. It doesn't help that you'll be forever tempted to watch him and spy on him. You'll get to see him laugh, cry, and struggle in his pursuit of happiness, but you won't be able to be by his side. Why do you think all Crawfords put on this shallow and tawdry facade? If the world does not know you, they cannot fall in love with you. For if the person you love happens to love you for who you are, I'm afraid few Crawfords can withstand such temptation to happiness.”

Sam could not help but to feel sorry for Betty. He recalled that his mother had shared similar sentiments. “As you walk the path to greatness, your enemies accumulate; and every thing you love serves as ammunition for your enemies,” Sam could hear his mother preaching. What a lonely path indeed.

“You have feelings for Shawn?” Sam inquired boldly. Sam would have never guessed if he had not perceived restrained feelings of covetousness emanating from Betty's gaze. The only response Sam received from Betty towards his question was a forlorn smile.

* * *

“Did you have anything to do with the evidence dropped by an anonymous person that proved my innocence?” Shawn asked earnestly. Shawn was notified that compelling evidence had contributed to all charges against Shawn to be dropped.

When Sam provided the disc to the police, he had explained the circumstances and requested that the police remain discreet regarding the precise details of the evidence. The police did agree that the culprits might be more complacent and less cautious if they did not know that they were caught on camera and hence had agreed to remain as discreet as legally possible.

As soon as Shawn was notified of the development, he decided to pay Sam a visit – even if Sam knew nothing about the evidence, he did want to have a discussion with Sam regarding some of the thoughts that had plagued his mind for the last few days.

“It was Betty; I simply delivered it,” Sam responded as they both sat comfortably beside one another on the bed in Sam's room. Sam also felt it incumbent on him to alert Shawn of his discussion with Betty since Shawn was afterall the other victim aside from Alistair. He obviously omitted the details regarding Betty's feelings though he was curious if Shawn already had an inkling about it.

“Wow,” Shawn uttered as he sat transfixed upon learning the extent someone went to in order to frame him for a crime. “I guess I do have to be more cautious before Betty or the police finds the mastermind behind all this.”

Almost a minute of silence had gone by in contemplation before Shawn spoke, “I want to talk to you about something unrelated to the incident but important nonetheless.” He hesitated before continuing, “But can you lie on my chest as I tell you this?”

Sam gave a suspicious look as he attempted to comprehend Shawn's idiosyncratic request.

“Please...” Shawn begged. “It might be the one last time I would be able to feel your head resting against me.”

Sam acquiesced to Shawn's pleading tone and as Shawn moved to lie on his back, Sam rested his head on Shawn's pectorals and wrapped an arm along Shawn's waist. Sam could hear Shawn's rhythmic heartbeat and could smell the fragrance of Shawn's cologne mixed with his natural familiar scent.

As Shawn felt the weight on his chest and as he grazed his chin and jaw to feel the texture of Sam's locks of hair, a sense of serenity washed over him. The stress of potential incarceration faded into his distant memory; the worry of someone attempting to frame him for a crime or put further harm onto his way subsided; and the fear of what he was about to do gradually abated.

“On the first night we shared together, I sort of had the feeling that I'd fall deeply in love with you,” Shawn began drawling. “In the last few months, I had fervently hoped that you would love me back. I wanted you to be mine; exclusively mine. I thought we could really build something together - something truly special to you and me. Though when I saw the glow around you when you danced with Alistair and the agony that burn through you when saw him bloodied and harmed, it got me thinking. I realised that I had never truly loved you... until maybe now. If you really love someone, you'd want that person to be happy, no matter whom he is with – that's your saying isn't it? So go; go be with Alistair.”

The implications of Shawn's words jolted Sam from his resting position. He gazed sternly into Shawn's emerald green eyes, attempting to gauge the sincerity of Shawn's words.

Shawn's eyes started to brim with tears as he continued, “We'll be fiancés in name only. I'll refrain myself with all my will not to pounce on you and I'll not stop you from having whatever relationship you'd like to have with Alistair. It might be difficult for me to adjust at first, but I give you my word that I'll try with my entire heart.”

Shawn cupped the back of Sam's head to lead Sam into his embrace. Sam, who was still stunned by Shawn's revelation, yielded to Shawn's direction and laid his head beside Shawn. Sam dug his arms into the bed as he wrapped himself around Shawn's supine torso. He felt Shawn's tout biceps squeezing the breath out of him and could vaguely feel the warmth of Shawn's tears on his cheeks.

“Go be happy, so that I can be happy for you too.” Shawn whispered into Sam's ears as he planted a firm kiss on the side of Sam's neck.