Sentimental Behind Brown Eyes

1

A portion of me wishes to go back to when things were clear, smooth, outside in a cold Chicago night gathered with my "happy" family. The other portion wants to know what it's like to be across the Atlantic living with my 23 year old brother.

July 25, 1957
"I left some breakfast for you on the table, I'll be back by 7 night, and you should be starting school tomorrow," his voice was low as one can imagine.

My brother barely speaks now compared to a year ago when he would playfully tease me and make me run after him all over the house because he'd have a love letter I received. His blonde, short hair with blue eyes and thin eyebrows suits his tall self.

"Serenity, did you hear me?" His voice began rising slowly by each word.

"Yeah..yeah I'm sorry Bruce," I reply back with guilt.

I go for a walk in the small city just thinking to myself how in the hell life itself turned around on me. I don't care if I don't know anyone here, nor do I care if I take a ciggie out.

"Shoot one pretty lady," says a drunk pervert.

"Screw off," I scoff, walking away.

I walk a block more and see a group of boys outside a club so-called The Cavern Club. What a dull name for a club. I take a few steps towards the place only to find millions of steps leading down.

Well fuck, I murmur.

"Looking for something?" A boy's voice asks behind me.

"Surely not you," I roll my eyes.

"Well check again 'cause I got your pack," a smirk grows on his face.

Quickly, I /tried to/ snatch it but the boy's movement was quicker than mine.

"Aha, not too fast are ya sweet cheeks?" He giggles.

"I am fast enough to scramble your eggs right now," I sternly comeback.

"Oho try me," he replies with a wink.

"Go fuck yourself," I grunted.
He was a hard one to comeback at.

"Ouch aha, I didn't catch your name," he mentions grabbing a cigarette out of my pack.

"So? You don't need to," I refuse.

With that, I snatch my pack and head back home. I did not want to waste any more of my breath on this foolish boy; tall, thick brows, small brown eyes, hair gelled up to a quiff, leather jacket /boots/ pants. Back where I'm from those are known as, troublemakers, ones who think they can get any girl to shag and they're obviously not my type. Let me say, I'm an independent fifteen (almost sixteen in two months) year old girl who has a custom taste on almost everything. My life flipped around about a year ago when all these tragic events occurred while I was already going through some rough days, days of a lifetime.

Going up in the attic, I notice a shining light that looks like a glass being reflected by the moon. Picking it up I see a photo of my mother, before the climax, I burry it in my chest and begin missing her, more than I already do anyway,

Why, why is it that my life's been this way?

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"Serenity, what are you still doing up, you have school tomorrow," my brother says.

"You think Mom would of loved our choices?" I ask out of the blue.

With a stern voice he replies, "Goodnight."

Bruce didn't like to talk about the past nor his choices and why, he became independent along the way.

July 26, 1957
Bruce was sat on the kitchen table with his head buried in his big hands, nearly crying.

"She would of been ashamed," my brother spoke.

"No..don't say that. We were her life, Bru. She'd never been harsh on us," i say hoping it'd lighten him.

"Oh yeah? You think it was that way, She never was harsh on us because She didn't want us to see the sorrow she had in her...but it wasn't her fault..it was..Erik's," he yells.

"No!" I shout.
"It was no ones fault! Who are you to blame Erik on this-" I add.

"Don't you fucking get it! We were lied to our whole lives about Erik! I don't blame Mom...not yet," he jabbers.

"Grow up Bruce! You're old enough to forget that bullshi-"

"Give me a damn break, Serenity! Have you seen your miserable self? You're screwed up! Or we I should say! We don't know where or WHO the hell is our biological father! I've been trying to reach contact or at least a bit of information or image even of him already for the last 8 years. Tell me if that's not screwed up! Don't you get it? We're useless," he mourns.

"Now hurry up and get ready, your junior year starts today," he adds with a slight sob.

~

And that is the very first chapter of the new story (which I hope turns out alright). If you are at a state of confusion on what Bruce & Serenity were arguing about, don't worry! Piece by piece it will unfold!
Till then,
Jo.