Cursed - Adopted By Yogscast

Storyteller

For as long as I could remember, I was a storyteller. No, I was a video editor. But before that, I was a storyteller. I knew that for a long time. They asked me to show the world stories and I did, I showed the stories of the others around me and made it into a livelihood. They asked me to tell their stories and I did.

When I met Ivan and his daughter, I didn't think about telling their story. I didn't believe that there was a story to be told. But maybe that was because I was part of their tangled, complicated web. Ivan spent a long time pretending that whatever he did was acceptable. I spent an even longer time oblivious to her cries for help.

I guess it was just the breaking point. I adopted the girl to make up for it. I wrote some more. I made videos more often. I drowned myself in my work. And all of that seemed to be helping, it worked. It started to feel like everything was finally going to be alright again.

Nothing was- Not immediately, at least. She spent ages in her room, alone, skipping meals and sometimes classes, learning to understand the new world we were both walking in. She responds too quick, shudders at touch, finds showers too hard to manage.

I installed new locks on her bedroom door, when she first arrived. Ones that only unlocked from the inside. Fire hazard, I know. But she felt safer then, and words started to come easier, more frequently.

I can break down that door if it came down to it.

I brought her to movies, restaurants, we burned pancakes at breakfast and when people asked, I said "This is my daughter, Aki. I love her very much."

Aki was thriving, and that is all I needed to see.

Jennifer came home, and we held ourselves close under the sheets, I listened to the quiet hum of her bathroom singing as water droplets bounced off our bodies, I kissed her like I was never going to see her again. And for the first time, I thought I had meant it.

It started with the collapse of a career. YouTube wasn't working. Fine, not like I expected it to. I had poured my heart and soul into it, sure, but whatever, right?

Jennifer had to fly again, and her side of the bed was empty again. Akiko was in Japan. The house was quiet, for the first time in months it was quiet again. I couldn't hear myself think, it was torture. It cycled back to the same few thoughts:

"What if Jennifer didn't come back?"

"Have I eaten today?"

"Is Aki safe in Japan?"

"Am I forgetting something?"

"Am I depressed or just a lazy prick?"

And those words, repeated over 3 weeks before Akiko came home, was torture. I forgot how to speak, Jennifer couldn't get decent wi-fi in Cambodia. I was alone again. I forgot that I actually had to eat, sleep, shower or hydrate myself for almost a week. I was lonely. But I didn't think "God, I wish I were dead".

Everything seemed ok when Jennifer and Akiko were finally home. I was informed of Aki's real name and she was informed that I always knew. Everyhing was fine, for a while.

Ivan hung himself in prison.

I should have been happy, or maybe I shouldn't have cared. I didn't tell Aki- She would find out on her own and I would rather that she hated me for life for not telling her than letting this information haunt her for longer than it needs to. Ignorance is the bliss I was denied. I refuse to deny it to Akiko.

I shouldn't have cared- But I did. I knew that man, I hit him over the head with a plastic flower pot. But outside of then, I played video games with him, I wrote poetry with him. When Jonathan gave me his note I could have crumpled it on the spot. But I read it. Every word. And it hurt to think of him as a human. I didn't want to, but I did.