Myungsoo pressed the button on his game console, urging his character forward to throw a blow at Sungjong’s character. Sungjong easily blocked it, throwing a low blow back that hit Myungsoo’s character hard in the stomach. Myungsoo watched his character stumble backwards, his mind preoccupied by other thoughts.

“Your mind isn’t on the game.” Sungjong remarked.

Myungsoo did not reply.

“What’s on your mind?” Sungjong persisted, pausing the game to get Myungsoo’s attention.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Myungsoo sighed. “No.”

“What is it?”

He turned to glance at Sungjong. “Your sister.”

Sighing inaudibly, she sank down on a nearby chair. Waiting made her think. It was better than spacing out – precious seconds will not be wasted.

Drawing back the curtains, she let her gaze travel lazily across her well-tamed garden. Just barely in view was Suzy, still sitting in the front yard. She wasn’t rocking anymore. Instead, her pale hands were the furry fabric of Myungsoo’s ear mufflers.

It was rare that Suzy accepted something foreign from anyone without a struggle. What made it more intriguing was the simple fact that Myungsoo was just another stranger.

He found himself unconsciously the invisible line of small scars along his left arm, scars that had long faded with time, much unlike the memories that had etched themselves twelve years ago.

“It’s going to hurt a little,” he warned her. He kept his steady gaze on her scared face until she nodded slightly. “Here goes then.” He carefully dabbed the alcohol swab on the edge of her wound.

She screamed. Her shriek echoed hauntingly around the empty abandoned house.

He bit his lip. After a moment’s thought, he lifted his left arm in front of her. “Here, when it hurts, just bite down. It’ll hurt less.” She looked doubtful but he gave her a reassuringly smile. Slowly, she gripped his wrist and nodded again.

He lowered the swab to her right arm. She bit down hard. Wincing as her teeth pierced his tender skin, he quickly dabbed the small gash in her arm clean. “See, that was quick, wasn’t it?” She released his left arm. Crimson red seemed to swell from those tiny bite marks.

“S-s-sorry…” Her eyes widened at the sight of his hurt arm. Despite the pain, he shook his head, smiling back. Knotting a small bandage around her arm, he stood up.

“I haven’t gotten your name.”

“S-s-su…”

“Su?” She nodded. “You can call me M.”

“M oppa?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” She whispered. He smiled.

That was the first time he met her. That was when he just turned seven. That was when winter just begun.

It was strange, but she missed the feeling of sleeping under the vast skies. Undoubtedly she had feared the attacks by wild beasts and detested the biting cold when storms brewed or winter came by. But there was something about breathing the woody scent of the surrounding trees and listening to the symphony of cricket calls that could lull her into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

People said she was weird. People said she had been away for too long. People said she was a “feral child”, whatever that was. They thought she couldn’t understand them.

They were wrong.

Sure, she didn’t understand every word they said, but she could read their faces – contempt, disgust, exasperation.

Maybe she was weird to them; maybe she had been away for too long from any human interaction; maybe she was what they believed to be a “feral child”.

But there was one thing they never considered. That she was, like them, human – someone with a heart.

And when they said those things, only she knew it hurt inside.

And I've finally edited chapter two for all of you.

God made us such that we can't read each other's minds. He has a reason for every creation. Maybe, just maybe, He did it so we can learn to be kind with our words, so we can learn to tolerate our differences. Because we will never know when the words that leave our mouths will break someone else up inside.