I woke up to the sound of my alarm screeching, and fell out of bed trying to turn it off, smacking my head on the bedside table in the process. With a groan, I stood up, rubbing my forehead where I could feel a lump forming already. I dragged my feet over to the door still rubbing my forehead. The handle creaked loudly as I turned it, opening the door and immediately stubbbing my toe off it.
"Ow!" I yelled, punching the door and hopping on one foot. Bad move. I didn't do a single scratch of damage to the door, and instead cracked three of my knuckles. Grumbling to myself, I hopped out of the room, rubbing my head, sucking my bleeding knuckle, and wincing in pain. Then, to top it all off, I walked straight into the table in the hallway and the corner smacked me in the crown jewels.
That was enough for me.
I was not risking leaving the house for school if I couldn't even make it down the hallway without getting an injury.
I crawled back into bed and lay there, listening to Dillon getting up and ready for school (without injuring himself may I add).
You're probably wondering who on earth Dillon is. Let me explain.
Dillon Johnson is my little brother. When he was 6 and I was 16, our father died of a medical condition that I won't bore you with. Our mother couldn't cope with the grief and us, she wasn't in the right frame of mind. She went loopy. That was why she crashed her car into the tree, she was out of her mind. After her death, I had the option to either put Dillon into an orphanage, or bring him up myself. I could never have done that to Dillon, so I decided to take care of him myself. Our parents left me the house. I already had a job, but it didn't pay nearly enough for me to bring him up, and I couldn't get enough work because of school. So, I spoke to the school and now I only go on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Every morning I drive Dillon to his school, then I go to work or my school. After that, things were good. I brought up Dillon, and I actually saw an improvement in his behavior and grades at school, until he was getting straight A's in every subject. That was the first symptom, when his grades started to slip back down again. Then he was always tired, to the point that he slept for three days straight once. That was the thing that made me decide to take him to the doctor. The doctor ran some tests and asked a lot of questions, and a few days later we went back for the test results. Dillon had a brain tumor. He needs special treatment, chemotherapy it's called, but I can't afford it. If Dillon doesn't get the treatment, then the tumor is going to kill him. That's why I robbed Olivia. Not because I'm a criminal, not because I want money for drugs (I am not a junkie), and not because I want the goods I stole. I robbed her because my brother is going to die if I don't.
Sorry Olivia.
