Believing is different than seeing. When you only hold a firm belief in something, you're always afraid to admit you might be wrong. Ever since I was a child, I knew that believing in ghosts and spirits and the afterlife would get me into a heap of trouble with my severely religious parents, two people who I considered to be some of the most close-minded people that ever walked the earth. How could I deny my curiosity, this thirst that awoke inside me when I first watched my grandmother hold a seance in her living room?

How could I ignore it?

It sparked my interest. To think there was a possibility that I could speak with those who had not yet left this world! The thread that held me there was my grandma's encouragement. She said for me to not "infect my mind" with the crap my parents tried to feed me. She didn't have anything against religion. She just thinks the way I'm taught is bull.

But they ignored her warnings, and forced God and the Bible down my throat. "Never turn your back on the Lord, Erin." "He works in mysterious ways." "Accept Christ, and you shall reach salvation when you died."

See, if they didn't make it sound so disturbing and authoritative, I'd probably listen. My father was the worst of the two. For eleven years, I had to endure Catholic school for him. Every day, I'd walk through the iron gates, nod to anyone who acknowledged my presence, scorned those who didn't, and steadily ignored the sisters, brothers, and (God forbid if he ever descended on us "lowly inferiors") the priest. Father Byrnes was a really cool guy; that is, until you actually heard one of his sermons. That man knew how to make an audience sleep within ten minutes. Five, if it was really hot outside. And the classes! Don't get me started. Sitting in a room for eight hours was cruel and unusual punishment, not to mention boring as hell. Once that final bell rang, I shot out of the gate and headed straight to the parking lot, where my mother waited in our old, beat-up station wagon.

My only decent family member was my half-brother Yunho. His mom had met my dad at work a long time ago, had an affair, and dumped her son on him the minute she was able to walk after giving birth. I kid you not. The poor guy...anyway, he was ridiculously happy living with us, even though my mom wasn't his. He took care of me, and when he finally graduated, I was sad to see him go off to college. Why did my only safe harbor leave me? He was my caretaker. How would I survive without him?

It didn't surprise me when we (see: my parents) decided to move from the plains of rural Korea to the sprawling city of Seoul. I was not a city girl; I hated the smell of rancid hot dogs and concrete and smog. Ugh, it disgusted me. However, moving meant something entirely different to me. It meant I could be a lot closer (distance-wise) to Kim Jaejoong, my best friend in the whole wide world, and someone who I was looking at in a new light.

We had met in kindergarten, when I accidentally shoved a penny up his nose while we were dancing. I had to take him to the nurse's office and sit with him for an hour. When he finally got the copper out from his nostrils, we headed back to class, and started talking a lot afterwards. During nap time, we whispered to each other, talking about our parents and how we hated the school rule about not running to the cafeteria for lunch. It took us one whole day to bond, and we had been friends since.

Lately, the strong friendship between us turned a new leaf.

Once, I went over to his house for a study session. We had a test the next day, and I didn't want to waste time doing meaningless things. He, however, did. While I was looking up historical dates, he was playing with my hair and braiding it and brushing it and running off to his older sister's room to fetch me some old clothes of hers. I didn't feel like playing dress-up, so I pushed and shoved against him when he held out a few pairs of jeans for me. Scowling, he took my wrist and we started arguing. Funny thing was, while we were yelling at each other, our hands somehow became entwined. We held hands the rest of the night as we studied.

A few weeks later, another situation sprang up. I asked him to walk me to the nearest department store one evening, because Sister Tiffany made me do lines as punishment for letting someone copy my work, and I always went shopping when I was sad and depressed. I hated walking by myself, so he offered and I accepted. As we neared the big parking lot, he suddenly spun me around to face him. He just...stared at me. For a really long time. His hands were cradling my porcelain face. His fingers crept up to twirl long strands of my dark brown hair. For a long time, he simply stared. His mouth twisted a little bit when he finally said goodbye. I started walking away.

"Erin." He cleared his throat. "Will you always be my best friend?"

"Of course." But I frowned. Would these new feelings go away, and our friendship would be no more?

"Thank you." He seemed relieved. "See you tomorrow."

That night, I had the biggest fight with my father. He had seen Jaejoong touching me in the parking lot, assumed that he and I were seeing each other behind his back, and blew up in my face once I got home. My mother didn't say much; she stood, washing the dishes and listening to our shouts. I was furious. How dare he say Jaejoong and I couldn't see one another ever again! I went to school with the guy! We had been best friends since we were little! What, did he start freaking out when boys started noticing the way my chest swelled, or the way I gracefully moved my hips when I walked? Christ, Jae and I were just friends (at least I thought we were).

"That's it, young lady!" he bellowed. "I've had it! You've been dating that little friend of yours without us knowing! I don't want you going over to his house from now on! You are to come straight home from school, study by yourself, and only talk to your girl friends! If word gets to me that you're still seeing him, hell will wither before me. Do you understand?!"

"All I understand is that I'm not taking any more of your crap, Dad."

"Young lady, do not speak to me in that tone..."

"I don't care. You don't respect me; why should I respect you?" I my heel and stomped out of the living room. I headed upstairs, slammed the door, and turned my old radio on. The CD started; a sweet, melodious sound issued from the speakers. It calmed me down a little, but I had a rational state of mind. I knew what must be done.

Sighing heavily, I rushed to my closet and grabbed a duffel bag. I started shoving clothes and beauty products into the vast space. Jaejoong would be so mad at me for running away, but he didn't know my family. He didn't know how much I suffered. Looking around my room, I realized just how much I would be leaving behind. First thing on to-do list: find abandoned place with furniture.

My secret cash stash was hidden under my mattress; that was retrieved quickly. As I climbed down from my window onto the awning over the back porch, I took one last look at the room I had called home. I would never see it again. My feet carried me all the way into town, and not once did I look back at the house. The bus station was empty, save for a few stragglers. I paid the driver when one pulled into the station and sat in the back. I didn't want attention drawn to the bag I was holding. It would be a dead giveaway.

The ride into town wasn't too long. I got off at a stop nearest my school. I remembered seeing some older apartments nearby; at least one of them had to be empty. The city smell was getting to me already; I scrunched up my nose and trudged on. The streets by the old Blue Haven Apartments were empty; I walked along the bright yellow lines, staring up at the place I would soon call home. The front entrance creaked open and I went in, glancing around for any workers. If anyone saw me, I'd have to hightail back outside and try again later. Luck was on my side, for no one was in the halls, save for a really grumpy teenager who wasn't paying attention to me; he sat rimrod in a chair, focused on a Playboy magazine. Disgusting.

My hand settled on the dusty doorknob, and I turned it slowly, hesitantly.

"Young lady, may I help you?" A wizened, old man stood behind me, his arms at his sides and a polite smile on his face. I froze. Dear sweet Lord, I had been caught. He moved to stand next to me, gazing at the door. "This apartment has been empty for at least two years. Ever since the last tenant ran out screaming at the top of her lungs...we've never been able to find an occupant. However..." His eyes swept over my huge duffel bag that was bulging with my clothes and things. "You don't really look like you have money on you."

"That, er, sounds about right." Great. Now I would have to leave the place and look somewhere else. Where could I stay...?

"As long as you keep the noise level down, and don't disturb the other residents..." He smiled. "I will let you stay here free of charge. Also, you should try to make friends with one of the occupants here." What an odd thing to say..."That boy needs a girl to talk to. Always looking in those books and ..." He shrugged. I guessed he was talking about the ert downstairs. I was going to have to befriend him? Lovely. If I got molested by the , I was going to come back and haunt this landowner. Seriously.

The first week there went by fast. I watched the news on the decent-sized TV the landowner--Mr. Ohtsugi, a Japanese man who'd lived here since the 60s--had given me. My parents had reported me missing, and a lot of the neighborhood was out looking for me. A few weeks later, they declared me a "cold case," which in my eyes is stupid, because I would have to be a) dead and b) discovered. I was neither.

One of the few people I felt sorry for making them believe I was "gone" was Jaejoong. Every news station had his interview on hand, and I had asked Ohtsugi to TiVo it for me. Whenever I wanted to see him again, I'd turn the TV on and watch him nearly burst into tears. He was scared for me, and desperately hoped I was alive somewhere. I knew I couldn't make plans to see him soon. Maybe later, when the heat on my search died down, I could go see him. But he couldn't know where I was. My father would get it out of him in a hearbeat.

While cleaning the house one day (I swear it was squeaky clean the day before, but a shelf had fallen and there was a lot of glass on the floor) I happened to look in the closet facing the front door. It had been locked, but now I could see that it had rusted through. Maybe if I tugged hard enough, I could get it loose. Sure enough, when I yanked on the handle, it swung open. A cloud of dust hit my nose, making me sneeze. When the sneezes subsided, I glanced around the tiny space. Nothing of interest.

Wait. There was a giant box in the corner. "OUIJA" was spelled out across the top in big bold letters. Like everything else in the house, it was covered in dust. I picked it up, staring at the dark box. Maybe it was like my Nana's Ouija board: old-fashioned and wooden. Christ, was it heavy! I carried it to my room, and lifted the top half off. Yep, big, wooden and old-fashioned. Most of the newer boards were either glow-in-the-dark or pink.

My window suddenly slammed shut, causing me to jump a foot in the air. The wind howled mercilessly outside. Talk about creepy. I looked back at the board. A session at midnight sounded like fun, but it was strictly taboo to hold one alone. Maybe my Grandma could give me some advice...

Another person that got to me was my Grandma on my Dad's side of the family (who made me question where his intolerance for fun came from). Grandma McKinley, better known as Nana, was worried sick about me, and they got an interview of her praying for my safe return, and (if I was dead) for my safe trip to Heaven. Out of all the people who were looking for me, I could trust that she wouldn't tell my parents where I was.

Thus, with a heavy heart and a bit of hope, I dialed her number on the old telephone by the kitchen counter. She answered on the third ring. "Yes?"

"Hi, Grandma." My voice sounded very small. "It's me."

"Oh, my word," she gasped in English. "My Erin. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Still small sounding. "How about you?"

"You have the whole family scared, little one!" she chastised me. "Where are you? We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Somewhere. I'm so sorry for making you worry, but I can't tell you where I'm at. Um, I'm alive, though. And I'm safe and sound. I ran away."

"Yes, I knew my Little E wouldn't get kidnapped by some lowly lech out there. But your father has everyone on watch. It would do you no good to show up at random, little one. Now your Grandma isn't saying it's a good idea to run away, but I think your mindset is a rational one. Do you need anything from me?"

Bingo. She brought the subject up first, I would tell the courts or anyone that found my body (in which case it would be through a letter). "Since you say that...I was wondering...how bad is it to hold a Ouija session by yourself?"

Nana was quiet for a moment. "That is a good question, Erin. I've never met anyone who dared hold one by themselves, but they usually did them at night. Maybe if you don't hold it strictly at the witching hour, you'll be safe from attracting bad spirits. I know you have the touch, young one. You've seen me perform one with my friends. Perhaps you and that sweet Jaejoong fellow should hold it together...oh, pooh." She paused. "He doesn't know where you are. This is a pickle. Fine, then. Hold one during the day, then, if you feel safe, at night. Get the board warmed up. Just be careful, Erin. Once a spirit answers, they may become tied to the board. Be careful, understand?"

"I promise, Grandma." As I spoke the words, the hair on my nape stood on end. If I didn't watch myself, I was going to psych myself out of it.

Of course, the daylight session was a bust. I sat there for an hour, moving the little plainchette around and around until my hand started cramping up, and gave up when a passing train shook the building and gave me some false hope. I fixed myself a quick dinner (pork chops and macaroni and cheese) and waited until the sun went down. I was a bit frightened, and went into the bedroom, leaving the TV on in the living room.

I lit several candles and dimmed the lights. A little shaky, I started moving the plainchette around, staring intensely at the board. It took me clearing my throat for my voice to work properly.

"Are there any spirits with me tonight?"

Nada. I allowed my fingertips to touch the small triangle lightly, hardly putting any pressure on it. I waited a few minutes before I asked again.

"Is there anybody here with me?"

What happened next made my heart drop to my stomach.

All the candles flickered once; one even went out. As I turned back to the board, the plainchette moved slowly across the board.

YES.

Oh. . I was going to piss my pants. Not even Nana had ever gotten such a quick response. She usually had to wait for an hour or so before anything happened. I gulped and formed another question in my mouth, which had gone dry. "Are you...a friendly spirit?"

Once again, the board surprised me. It moved in circles for a bit before moving to the letter Y.

YOU TELL ME.

That didn't help me. To my own shock, fear ebbed away and a slight annoyance replaced it. "Can you be more specific?" I asked politely.

I COULD. The plainchette stopped moving. I WILL NOT.

ing . Why did this happen to me? And why did it seem like whoever I was talking to had a bit of sarcasm in them? "Please?"

SINCE YOU ASKED. Stop. MORE.

"I suppose you mean more questions," I muttered. "Alright. Uh...are you a boy or girl?"

MAN. Stop. GET IT RIGHT.

"Oh, my bad," I droned. If I was going to get attitude, I was going to dish it right back. "Sorry. You're a man. Forgive me. I guess that means you're older than a teenager or whatnot." I waited, strangely anxious.

YOU GUESSED RIGHT.

"Alright!" I was getting somewhere, though he still sounded a little sarcastic. "Did you recently pass away?"

A very long pause. Perhaps he was thinking. BY RECENT YOU MEAN LESS THAN TEN YEARS. Stop. YES.

"Oh." Sympathy surged through me. "I'm sorry. You must have died young, then."

YES.

It occurred to me only then that asking about the death of a dead person was...rude, so I changed the way I worded the questions. "How old are you?"

22.

"Hm. Were you in college? Err, university?"

HELL NO. Stop. I DROPPED OUT OF HS.

He was young enough to know abbreviations. "That's interesting," I muttered, more to myself. I raised my voice again. "Hey, do you know what LOL means?"

DO YOU THINK IM RETARDED? No need for any punctuation. I could tell he was very sarcastic as is. LAUGH OUT LOUD.

"Wow. You must have died fairly recently. That's only been in popular use for a few years." So young...to my horror, tears crept up into my eyes, and I hurriedly wiped them away. When I realized I couldn't stop them or my nose from running, I sniffled and coughed. "I am so sorry, but I can't seem to stop this. I have to say goodbye." I snorted, trying to keep them from falling on the board. I'm sure it would repel the guy I was talking to. He wouldn't want any saltwater on the board he was trying to use for communication. "Before I go, what's your name?" I had forgotten to ask one of the most important questions for Ouija. "Please tell me."

Suddenly, a tissue dropped before me. I yelped in shock. The plainchette moved on its own, my fingers really far away from the board. I stared, dumbfounded. Holy crap, the spirit was strong enough to move it by himself. That...was not good.

DONT CRY. Stop. YOULL RUIN YOUR FACE. Stop. MY NAME IS PARK YOOCHUN. Stop. AND YOU ARE?

"My name is (sniff) Erin." I blew my nose loudly. "And I'm sorry for blubbering. I just...I can't grasp someone that young dying. I mean, I've gone to church my whole life and I've heard stories about children getting hit by cars or getting kidnapped, but once it's someone I've had a conversation with, it just kinda hits me, you know? And I hate feeling like this, because it makes me cry and sob and carry on, and I'm sure you don't want to sit there and watch me cry, but..."

ALRIGHT STOP FEELING SORRY FOR ME ERIN. Stop. ITS PATHETIC. Stop. WANT ANOTHER TISSUE?

"That was you?" I asked.

YES. Stop. AND WE ALSO KNOCKED THAT SHELF YESTERDAY. Stop. THE MUSIC YOU WERE PLAYING WAS GIVING ME A HEADACHE.

"You mean Avenged Sevenfold? I love that band. They're American."

SORRY IF I HURT YOUR FEELINGS.

"It's fine. I understand. I promise to wear...headphones..." I trailed off, staring at the board in horror. I had just caught a word he'd said previously. "You said...we. You said we knocked that shelf over. You mean..." I gulped. "There's more than one of you? I mean, more than one ghost, err, spirit?" Wrapping my head around having a spirit who can speak with me was one thing. Knowing there were more here with me was overwhelming.

And that's when I passed out. Information overload. The sound of the air whistling past me was the last thing I heard before my world went black.

"I think we killed her, Yoochun."

"How can you say that? She's obviously breathing. Look, her face is pink. She's fine."

"Yeah, but...oh, is she moving?"

"And talking to herself. Weirdo. She's really pretty, right? I told you."

"I never said she wasn't! I just said I was too shy to communicate with her. She liked you, I could tell."

A scoff. "She was being a little sarcastic to me. I thought it was adorable."

"Yoochun, you think every girl you come across is adorable. Or beautiful. Or pretty."

"Man, you're just jealous. Hey, I think she's waking up!"

Both of the voices were male, but I was too scared to open my eyes. One of them was obviously Yoochun; he had been named. It was the unknown male voice that concerned me. What if he was all evil and ? He sounded like a boy I would go to school with (that wasn't the extremely gorgeous Jaejoong or the stupid retards or the intellectual nerds). It was more of an innocent and shy voice. Didn't he just say he was shy? That right there would have anyone else opening their eyes. Yoochun was friendly enough. All I would have to do is scream, and they could both pounce or go away forever, and I didn't want that, but I also didn't want to get eaten.

With that thought in mind, I cracked an eyelid open.

Two forms stood at the foot of my bed. One was closer, peering down at me with a big smile. His hair hung a little long, brushing his shoulders in waves. His lips were full, and they formed into a smirk. "Aha, here's our girl! You were out like a light for a long time, Erin. We got worried, but then you started talking to yourself and it reassured us. Thank the gods, huh?" He tilted his head. "Sorry if we scared the crap out of you. If you haven't already guessed by my tone or my good looks, I am Yoochun. This shy sheep behind me is the other resident, Kim Junsu."

Said person lifted his eyes timidly. They were wide and brown. His hair was extremely spikey, but it looked soft too. He bit down on his lip; his upper lip pouted curvy and much larger than the bottom. His cute button nose wrinkled. Definitely shy. "Hello," he said softly, looking away.

Cute. A shy ghost.

It was clear that they were. They weren't leaning against the wall or sitting in a chair. They also weren't floating, like some people claim they are. It just looked like they were standing...freely. Nothing to lean on. Yoochun stood nearest to me, his arms folded across his chest. Junsu had both his hands behind his back. He wasn't much younger than Yoochun, but he was more innocent-looking. He did remind me of a little Christian boy. "Hi, Junsu," I whispered, waving slightly to show I was the friendly "weirdo" Yoochun had spoken about. "I'm Erin. It's...nice to meet you."

He blinked, and if he could blush, he would have. "Same here."

Yoochun stepped in before he could say anything else. "You're probably wondering why I didn't show myself to you earlier."

"Not really." I had to be honest. Who knows if they could tell I was lying?

"Oh." His face fell for a second before it brightened again. "Well, we don't just trust anyone, you know. We've had a lot of tenants coming in and out of this place. But when you moved in, we felt a really strong vibe coming from you and I decided to try and get your attention any way I could. Knocking things over usually works, but you just kept cleaning it up. That was really frustrating. I helped you open that rusty closet that led you to the board left by another tennant. We were the last ones to live here for a long time." His face clouded. "But that's another story. Anyway, we liked you. You didn't try to sell it or anything. We figured you'd try your hand at contacting someone 'on the other side' and then all this happened, and I made you faint. Sorry, by the way."

"That's okay." I looked over at Junsu, who had been staring at me. He immediately dropped his eyes. "What's wrong with you? You didn't want to talk to me?"

Although I was just kidding, his brow furrowed. "No. I really wanted to talk to you. But..." He bit his lip again. "I'm really bad at talking to people."

"Yeah, I kinda figured."

"Does that make you mad?" He looked mortified.

"No, no," I said quickly. "I was just wondering."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"But, um..." The telephone rang. I looked over to the living room. "Damn," I whispered softly. I glanced back at the guys.

They were gone.