Glowing Eyes || Adopted by Josh Dun

meeting the man with red hair

I've been trying to start this story for nearly an hour now. I have been pulling my hair out trying to pin down the exact moment that set this whole thing off so it could all come together in this neat little bow but, if I'm being completely honest, I have no idea how this happened. I've guessed it started with my brother going to jail. Or it could've, quite literally, all been broken down to turning left instead of right. 

My brother, Matt, once told me, "Sometimes the world likes to make its job a little easier by basing where your life goes on something little - like whether you double-knotted your shoes that day or not." 

I really like that philosophy. He might be behind bars, but if my brother is one thing, it's quotable. We'll get to that later, though - there's a lot of time for more in-depth explanation. Moving on. I'm done guessing why this whole thing happened or exactly where it came from; I've decided it's not important. I'll just do my best to tell you the events that led up to it to the best of my ability. 

So here we go.

•••••••

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry. Not here, not now. 

"Come on, Lynn. You aren't your mother." 

My brother, again. 

And then I was crying, thinking about him. How could I handle mom without him? How could I handle any of this? Sure, he wasn't exactly a super protective big brother, but he cared. Deep down, he cared, even if he didn't show it.

So why didn't he tell me?

I tried to keep the thought out but every time I pushed it down it just bubbled back up to the surface - why didn't Matt tell me what he was doing that night? Why didn't he give me any notice that he was going to be gone? He wouldn't have just left me alone. I was sure of that. 

I wiped my eyes before looking around at our horrible apartment. Our horrible, dirty, broken apartment. I sat up in the creaking bunk bed and looked over the broken railing of my top bunk. I gazed at the empty beer bottles that had collected over the months scattered on the ground. Dirty clothes flung carelessly around the room. The living room was even worse.

It was like a haze had receded, and I realized just how horribly dirty the place was. I noticed the cracks in the walls, the stains in the ceiling from water leaks, the mold in the sideboards...

I got down from my bed, looking out at it in almost a daze. I didn't know what to do, or where to go, and I was stuck here. I stared at everything with increasing increasing hatred. My blood boiled as I saw furniture that had been ruined with cigarette holes and countless stains. I hated it, I hated all of it. Why did my brother have to go to jail? Why couldn't he be satisfied with some normal hobby, like reading or playing board games? Why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't my life be normal? Was that too much to ask?

In that moment I decided I needed air. I needed to get out of this hell hole for as long as possible. I grabbed my old drawstring bag hanging off of the corner of my bed and stuffed a few things in it. I walked out into the cramped living room/kitchen and grabbed some money off of the counter. I didn't know how much it was and I didn't care. I had to get out of here. I had to get out of here.

I opened the apartment door with a large creak and slammed it behind me. The whole complex seemed to shudder, like just one good gust of wind would send it all crashing down. I locked the door and flew down the stairs, using as much force on those stupid steps as I could. I hoped this whole thing fell and burned.