That was the longest 60 seconds of my life.

The chaos ended after a glass shattered, filling the air with a sharp, cracking sound. I waited a little longer to ensure everything had calmed down. Once I was confident it was safe, I grabbed the old baseball bat lying on my closet cabinet.

I knew my brother had instructed me to wait until morning, but my curiosity got the best of me. Also, I had this growing feeling inside me that my brother needed my help. And with the loud noises earlier, it wouldn't be long before law enforcement or some nosy neighbor decided to check on us. I needed to make sure I could explain everything without putting my brother in a bad light.

I slowly opened the door to my room, and it creaked softly into the deafening silence of the night.

With quiet, careful movements, I tiptoed out of my room and into the living area.

I flinched at the sight before me. Though the lights were broken and the room dimly lit, it did nothing to hide the mayhem unfolding in front of me.

I surveyed the room for any signs of life, but I was alone in the middle of the wreckage. It was as if the place had exploded into chaos. Furniture lay scattered, drawers and sofas flipped over, walls slashed with marks, and everything else was in ruins.

I tried to think about how I could explain this mess to the building owner without him calling social services. I managed to rent this place with part of my parents' insurance money, which we had saved from our uncle. We couldn't access the rest until we came of age.

Convincing the owner to let me stay without adult supervision was difficult, but I managed—thanks to my uncle's approval. He seemed fine with us staying out of his sight while still reaping the benefits of being our legal guardian. Now, I knew I'd get in trouble if I couldn't find a way to justify this disaster. I might even end up in juvie if things didn't go well.

But more than the legal consequences, I was worried about my brother. Looking at the broken window, I saw the moonlight streaming through the shattered glass. I noticed only some shards were on the floor, which meant something must have been hurled outside, causing the glass to break outward.

Then, I remembered the loud crash from earlier and the eerie silence that followed. The thought of my brother jumping out of the window crossed my mind, and a wave of concern washed over me. I looked down at the lower part of the building and realized no one could survive such a fall. But my suspicions lingered. The bad feeling inside me grew stronger as I stared at the broken window.

"I need to find my brother," I muttered, my eyes scanning the open door.

I gripped the baseball bat tightly and walked toward the entrance. As I neared the door, cold dampness seeped into my bones, sending shivers through me as I stepped outside.

I descended the stairs, uneasy, as I noticed watchful eyes peering through the slightly opened windows of my neighbors' apartments. I felt their curiosity—questions about the earlier noise—and their hesitation as they wondered if it was safe to approach.

To my neighbors, I had always been the quiet, well-behaved kid living alone in the rooftop unit. They were kind to me, but I knew it was out of pity—an orphan from a broken family. For years, I'd worked hard to prove I could survive on my own without being a burden. I wanted to live quietly, without causing trouble. But tonight, all that was shattered. I could tell they were secretly pleased to be proven right about me—a problem child who couldn't stay out of trouble.

But right now, their judgments are insignificant. My brother's well-being was all that mattered.

With unwavering resolve and the baseball bat hanging loosely in my hand, I continued down the stairs, avoiding the elevator to keep out of sight. I made my way to where the shards of the broken window lay scattered.

I wasn't sure what awaited me, but my resolve to find my brother had eclipsed any fear or doubt I might have had.