JB parks the car right on the curb of a normal looking suburban house—white picket fence covered in overgrown vines. The grass had grown up to our ankles and although there were signs of a stone path, it was now barely visible from the blanket of moss and weeds. The house itself was pretty big up close. Three story Victorian style with a blue and white color scheme. The color had faded though and just like the picket fence it was almost covered by tangles of green vines.

     JB and Jackson both get out of the car and directly went to the back, opening the trunk. I see them pull out two identical sling bags before closing it as I get out of the car to follow them.

    “You might want to stay really close to me. Just in case.” Jackson says as we head to the house. “Just in case what?” I ask.

    “Well you know… in case there are hidden homeowners lurking around waiting to kill strangers who step on their lawn.” He replies with that grin of his.

    “But this is your home right? Surely you know the guys inside. They won’t shoot you right?” I say baffled.

    “Sure we know them. We’re just know sure how they’d react to, one, seeing you and two, seeing us bringing you here.” JB says as he falls in step beside Jackson. He was twirling a set of keys in one hand. It was similar to the one Jackson had, but it had a blue number seven inscribed in the center of the remote rather than red.

    Suddenly a gunshot shocks us and make us all drop to the ground. This day is really freaking full of people trying to kill us. JB stands back up almost immediately as he massages his hand. His keys were now lying on the ground beside Jackson’s foot, thrown by the shot. My hand immediately reaches for my gun, only to realize that Jackson had confiscated it (‘kept safe’ were his terms) it on the way over, despite my better judgment.

    “What in the world? Did someone really just shoot at us?” I ask Jackson as I watch him sit up.  

    “I bet that was either Bambam or Yugyeom. I’ll have to teach those kids some manners.” JB says looking to the windows of the second floor. Before Jackson and I can say anything, he jogged towards the house leaving us behind.

     “Who the are Bambam and Yugyeom and why are they shooting at us?” I ask as I hesitantly sit up from my belly flop position.

    “They’re just fooling around. Probably thought of it as a welcome greeting of some sort.” Jackson says lightly as he stands up. He offers me a hand but I ignore it and stand on my own. He bends down and grabs the keys JB left behind, which was now dented into a U-shaped tip of a bullet. These guys aren’t normal.

    “So how many are you here exactly?” I asked, curious as to how many people I was actually facing.

    “Six of us live here. We’re nice guys, don’t worry.” Jackson says as we continue heading towards the house. Six huh? So far I only had five names, him, JB, Jinyoung, who was apparently scary, BamBam and Yugyeom. I wonder who the last one is.

    We step into the house and everything is covered by a very thick layer of dust. It made it seem like it has been unoccupied for the past few years. It probably used to be a really nice place, two sofas facing each other separated by a rectangular coffee table in the middle of the room with a cobwebbed fireplace to the side. A chandelier hanged in the ceiling dim and dirty. Photographs of people were placed in the mantle above the fireplace. I step closer to look at the pictures.

    A few at the end caught my eye. It was Jackson, wearing a sleeveless shirt with his arm around another guy with black hair wearing sunglasses and a striped shirt. JB was there too wearing a bucket hat and shades. There were two other guys at his right and in the middle were an elderly couple and another guy with red hair. There is a sudden but familiar pain in my chest, a pain accompanied by the quickening of my pulse. I raise my hand and let my finger hover over his face, afraid of what I was seeing.

     Mark.

   I could feel the repressed memories and emotions trying to resurface from the back of your mind. I ball my fists until my knuckles turned white and my nails dug into my palm. Anger, pain and regret that was welling up inside as I remembered.

    Mark.

  How was he in this picture? Who were these people?

  The unwelcome memory rushes into mind. I can see him clearly, as if i was in that god awful moment again. The moment I killed the only person I trusted and loved