Damn, It Really Sucks To Be You Right Now, Oh Well, What's The First Thing You're Gonna Do When You Get

Damn, it really sucks to be you right now, oh well, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get out? I'd personally take a really big nap.

I don't know.. Napping sounds good. I miss my bed.. No, I just miss my house in general. And I miss everyone there, too.

"Would they let you?" He tipped his head to the side. "And you don't have to. I wouldn't dare make you sleep in one of those chairs, or God forbid on the floor.."

"Hey. Your glasses were important to you. It's okay to be upset, man"

"I'm upset over everything, really.. God, how did you do it? I don't like to ask about your trap, but I feel like a mess."

"Unbelievably.. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep, though. This place gives me the creeps."

"Hey. Your glasses were important to you. It's okay to be upset, man"

"I'm upset over everything, really.. God, how did you do it? I don't like to ask about your trap, but I feel like a mess."

"Hey. Your glasses were important to you. It's okay to be upset, man"

"I'm upset over everything, really.. God, how did you do it? I don't like to ask about your trap, but I feel like a mess."

"Tomorrow, I think.."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.

"If you want to.. I don't expect you to." Specs handed Adam his phone.

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.