“Agh!” Victoria let out a shout as she paused halfway up the stairs and kicked her knee up to try and catch the slipping folder from the top of the large box she was carrying. Without due fail it slid off her knee and onto the cement with a loud thud. A binder was soon to follow. “Ugh…great,” Victoria mumbled as she walked up the rest of the way to the front door.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that her dying grandmother had actually asked for her move back to this particular house she hated, she wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t the house she disliked; it was the memories she’d left there. Victoria had grown up not under her father, but under Park Chorong’s. Her father made stead-fast rules that he seemed to nail into all their brains. Victoria felt irritated just thinking back to it. She was just thankful she would never have to live that era ever again.

“Ugh…damn it!” Victoria swore underneath her breath while searching for the key on her and finally discovered it in the back of her pocket.

Dropping the heavy load of a box down she kicked it aside and readjusted her purse over her shoulder. Victoria finally managed to unlock the door with a loud click and felt all stress fly off her shoulder. The door opened with a quiet creak and Victoria felt her loose hair fly over her face as a pulse of wind came whirling at her.

“Oh! What the heck…” she stammered pushing her hair away and turned back to look behind her.

No one had come up the flight of stairs and certainly she was sure that no one had been in. It was strange, but Victoria shrugged the thought off and picked her box up before heading in. After dropping the box off into the dining room she headed back out for the rest of her luggage.

Moving her belongings alone was more tiring than she’d expected, but she wasn’t one to complain when working alone. Ever since she graduated high school she had made the decision to depend on only herself. Her mother had been dead since she was 12 and Victoria just never really thought about her anymore since the burial. During the heated summers of her teenage years she would go stay with her father’s. The air by the ocean seemed calmer than the polluted city air and Victoria liked the cool breeze that drafted in from the waves. When summer ended she’d return home for the school semester.

Now she was 26, old enough, and smart enough. She’d graduate at the end of the semester and life would be hers to build. Flying off into her career as a businesswoman had been what she’d sought to do, but plans had her when her grandma, her mother’s mom, suddenly passed away. As far as she knew, none of her fathers had surviving mothers.

When she’d gathered all her belongings into the home, Victoria finally took the chance to look around. It was the small short hallway that greeted them as soon as they walked in. A doorway to a small sitting room had been carved into the wall to the right upon entrance and further down the hallway sat her grandma’s favorite dining table made from expensive hickory wood - the strongest, most durable wood you’d find out there that not even a giant can squash, as quoted by her grandma - surrounded by six chairs.

Victoria slowly walked into the room and ran her hand over the smooth tabletop that never seemed to wear down. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was in exactly the same condition as it’d been when she still lived there. How that was possible, she wasn’t sure. She quickly looked up toward the window covered with a yellow curtain. The strong sunlight was trying to set its rays into the house, but Victoria thought she was hearing bells chiming from behind it.

A small frown crossed her face before she stepped toward it and cautiously reached a hand out. As soon as she had the curtain in her grasp she quickly pulled it aside and saw nothing but dusty rays shooting down.

“Hello! Anybody home!?” a voice shouted after the door slammed shut. “Oh my god, what was that! You have the window open or something?”

Victoria stepped away from the curtain and spotted one of her short haired sisters walking in with bags strapped over her torso. Obviously someone had been too lazy to pack their belongings in organized order and resorted to stuffing whatever she could into whatever she had. She skimmed her eyes over the Nike and Adidas branded sport bags and raised an eyebrow judgmentally. Victoria wondered what this girl had been doing with her life the past 6 years.

“Is that you, Victoria?” the girl squinted her eyes as if she couldn’t have gotten a better view of her. “Oh my god, you colored your hair!” then she belted out into a roar of laughter. “Grandma would so kill you! Well, I mean if she was still here, but she could also possibly be here. I mean…you know, spiritually. You know how she was always into folklores and all that storytelling.”

Victoria watched her younger sister chew the piece of gum in and pace around in the middle of the short hallway.

“By the way,” she turned to Victoria, “is the air conditioning on? I thought I felt a blast of wind when I walked in.”

Victoria raised her eyebrow not caught off guard by her younger sibling’s ranting. The one that could never stop talking had to be Namjoo, the youngest sister.

“Ah…Namjoo,” Victoria nodded then pointed her finger out.

“Have you been upstairs yet? Bedroom’s decided?” Namjoo asked. “If not, I call the biggest.”

“I don’t think so,” Victoria quickly shuffled over toward the stairs.

One thing she was certain she’d hate about sharing a home with her sisters again was their never ending rivalry. Although Chorong wasn't one to really worry about, but she still played a part in their wars of who had the best clothes, the most guys, the best fashion, the biggest room, and who hugged the bathroom the longest. Those small matters were what really mattered most in the household. Victoria suddenly realized her worries had become even bigger just because Namjoo had arrived before Chorong.

“You haven’t been upstairs, have you?” a mischievous smirk climbed across Namjoo’s lips.

“Who says I haven’t?” Victoria asked still guarding the stairs like a hound dog. “My room is still my room, isn’t it?”

Namjoo stared at her with quite a tiny glare that said she wasn’t going to listen to her now that only the three of them would be around. Victoria hated Namjoo’s teenage years, she was the worst person alive. And there was certainly no way she was going to deal with her younger sister’s rebellious ways again. Victoria would cross her heart on it.

“Why don’t we catch up while we wait?” Victoria suggested worried that her room was in danger of a takeover. “So…” she clapped her hands together, “are you still seeing that nerdy kid…oh…uh…what’s his name…Yeollie?”

“Chanyeol,” Namjoo unhappily twitched her cheek.

“Oh yes, that’s his name!” Victoria tried to sound interested or at least enthusiastic. “Still seeing each other?”

“We’ve broken up,” Namjoo told without emotion, hands on hips, “for the tenth time.”

“Oh…that’s too bad,” Victoria again put effort into sounding empathic, but was just a big failure. She didn’t really care about who Namjoo saw or probably slept with. Thinking back to the days when she’d wake up in the middle of the night to hear Namjoo hustle one of her boys in was enough of a dirty memory for her. “I mean…sorry to hear that.”

“Uh-huh, I bet you are,” Namjoo nodded, smart enough to catch onto her sister’s intention. “Can I go upstairs now?”

“Whoa! No! Hold up!” Victoria shot her arm out when Namjoo started toward her.

Namjoo snorted before crossing her arm, “Well who would have thought that the oldest is being a sore right now. It’s not a big deal having an exchange of rooms.”

“No, no. Not without Chorong’s say. We always vote on this,” Victoria stated.

The door opened loudly and they heard something crash by the front door.

“I’m fine!” Chorong shouted out.

“Speaking of the devil,” Namjoo muttered.

When Namjoo stepped away from the stairs and Victoria deemed her room safe she finally stepped down to follow. Victoria paused when she spotted books, pencils, markers, and kitchen utensils sprawled out on the floor.

“Ow,” Chorong grabbed her back before pulling herself up. “Damn step, I thought dad fixed that ages ago.” When she looked up the first thing she exclaimed about was, “Oh wow!” She ran her eyes up and down Victoria’s body. “Your hair…”

“Enough said, hurry in and lock the door,” Victoria ordered waving her hand.

When Chorong reached for the door handle Victoria watched as a gust of wind swished by.

“What the heck!” Chorong muttered before turning to peer out the door. “The ghost of the house must not like me here.”

“Very funny,” Namjoo mumbled.

Out of the three of them, Namjoo was the most cowardly. The days when she used to crawl in bed out of fear ended when she turned 10, and it was at age 10 that she became much more of a brat. Whether it had been because their mother had passed away then and she wanted attention, Victoria never took the space and time of their age to find out.

“I call same room!” Chorong suddenly shouted out.

“You read my mind,” Victoria commented before turning to Namjoo with a victorious smile.

>_____<;;

Namjoo dragged her bags up to her room. Everything was still in the same place and position as she’d left it. She’d been last to leave the house. Often, she wondered if grandma missed their presence. Because Victoria had left them early, Namjoo had felt it was only right to follow. She didn’t want to be left behind.

Walking over to the table by her bed she opened the only drawer it had and pulled out a picture of her mother and father. It was the only one she had. Why her mother had chosen to go from one man to another was one thing she’d never been able to ask. Actually before she even had the chance to ask, she’d lost it.

Her mother died when she was 8 and her father never stayed with her long. The only responsible father who had nursed her up was Chorong’s father who believed in heavy discipline. It was never a happy picture with him. Just things…were never the same with him as it was with her own father.

Namjoo knelt down in front of one of her bags. ping it she pulled out the other framed photos of her mother and started downstairs. Not a single portrait of her mother resided within the house. It was as if grandma had wanted to tarnish all evidence of them ever having one to begin with. Namjoo just never understood it. Her mother’s death had never been clarified to her and even Victoria, who was the oldest, seemed to have no interest in it. Chorong, as always, remained on the neutral side, but Namjoo was sure Chorong cared more than she showed. Chorong was always resilient. Namjoo didn’t understand her or why she always held back.

“You belong here,” Namjoo said as she put her mother’s photo on the dining room table alongside another one of her in college.

“Did you see my…” Victoria’s voice entered her ears when she started down the stairs, but stopped when she saw the pictures on the table. “What are you doing?”

Namjoo swung her head to the side to look at Victoria in a manner as if she’d done something insulting. Victoria’s eyes stiffly went from her to the pictures.

“Put them away,” Victoria demanded.

“No!”

“Namjoo!” Victoria deepened her voice.

“Why! There’s not even one damn picture of mom anywhere! Why do you act like you hate her so much!?” Namjoo shouted.

“I said to put the picture away,” Victoria almost growled.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Chorong stepped out from the kitchen with a spatula in hand before she noticed the pictures sitting on the table. “Oh…”

“Chorong, say something!” Namjoo urged from where she stood, but all she did was just press her lips together. “Why aren’t you saying anything!? You don’t have to act like mom doesn’t belong in this house because this house is hers!”

“I said to put them away!” Victoria flung her hand out and the pictures suddenly went flying against the wall.

They listened to the frames break before crashing against the floor. A long moment of silence followed while they tried to recollect in their minds what just took place. From the kitchen doorway Chorong’s mouth dropped in astonishment, but she couldn’t utter a word. Namjoo’s eyes widened and she turned to stare at Victoria who was suddenly staring at her own hand.

“What…what are you…” Namjoo couldn’t fixate the words into .

Victoria’s eyes were overshadowed with bewilderment before she looked at her guiltily. Then without a word she turned around to run up to her room.

“Great, what a great sister she is,” Namjoo muttered hurt, her eyes overwhelmed with the quick tears she was fighting back.

She trudged over to the wall to gather the broken expensive picture frames. These frames were probably the only things she’d really saved money to buy, but they had been treated like nothing. Namjoo didn’t feel anything, but hurt.

“Here,” Chorong knelt down beside her and reached over to slide the pictures out. “Keep them some place safe and out of Victoria’s sight. She isn’t ready to look at them just yet.”

“Easy for you to say when they don’t even mean anything to you,” Namjoo the pictures with her fingers. “I only had 8 measly years with her. When you two had more time with her, I don’t get why you two can’t even appreciate the sight of her.”

Namjoo turned to walk away sniffing her own tears and ran back into her room.

>_____<;;

Chorong watched Namjoo disappear around the corner before letting out a sigh. Turning back to the destroyed pieces on the ground she carefully picked them up and tossed them back into the bin. When she walked into the kitchen she glanced at the shelves full of freshly stocked foods and still useable cooking equipment. It seemed like grandma had prepared everything for them before she left on her long trip to never return.

She lowered her head and sighed again. Wiping out the corner of her eye she turned around to walk up the stairs and paused in front of Namjoo’s closed bedroom door. As the youngest, Chorong sort of understood her pain, but since she’d never been in Namjoo’s shoes she knew she’d never understand where she was coming from. Victoria, on the other hand, was a different matter.

It was a very short hallway upstairs with four bedrooms, two on each side of the walls. Namjoo always slept closest to grandma. When she was younger, she shared her room with grandma until her father decided to move out. Even Chorong couldn’t remember when that was. It’s better for a woman to take care of the girls, he had said before bidding her farewell. In a sense, all three of them had been abandoned by any adults they had grown up with. Perhaps that was why none of them had a sense of what it was like to be family.

Pausing in front of Victoria’s door she knocked on the door. “It’s me, can I come in?”

“Yea.” Victoria called out.

Chorong opened the door and poked her head in. Victoria’s room was just as neat and organized as her, although there were still boxes stacked atop each other. She had drawers, dressers, and a lamp beside her well draped bed she made every morning. Victoria had grown up really privileged. There wasn’t a doubt why she’d been the most responsible out of the three.

“You ok?” Chorong asked sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I guess,” Victoria sounded unsure, still grasping onto the hand that had gone into action. “I mean…what even happened. You…you saw that, right?”

Chorong nodded understandingly, “Yea. Maybe…it was just the wind or something.”

“But…it doesn’t make sense…I mean…that wind in the house…what the heck,” Victoria stumbled over her own words. “Is there something in this house?”

“Victoria,” Chorong tried to calm her. “There’s nothing here. We’ve all lived her for at least 18 years. Nothing ever happened.”

Victoria shook her head and looked away appalled. Silence droned on between them before she said, “I didn’t mean to do that, I mean, I didn’t mean to get angry at Namjoo. It’s just…seeing mom…I can’t stand it.”

“I know,” Chorong scooted over and put a hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “But Namjoo doesn’t know, and I don’t think we can tell her.”

“Of course not,” Victoria got up to pace around her dimly lit room and ran a hand up through her hair, “how the hell are we supposed to tell a 22 year old baby that mom killed herself when she was 8? Can’t you see Namjoo freaking out over that? She’d probably go into denial and become even more rebellious.”

“She’s not rebellious,” Chorong stated. “She’s a grown up woman who can fare for herself.”

“Oh yea right.” Victoria shook her head and flung her hand out sarcastically. She turned around to face Chorong, “Why in the world do you think grandma asked for the three of us to move back here? She didn’t give us any damn reason.”

Chorong shrugged, “Maybe…she just wants us all back under one roof. You know…be where we started off.”

“Like that makes sense,” Victoria commented. “Whatever it is, it has better be for a good reason, or else I’m going to be the first one out.”

“Well, not like she can tell us now, right?” Chorong asked with another one of her shrugs.