I hole myself in my bedroom after that, smothering my watery eyes and muffled sobs into a pillow for the whole night. When mother comes knocking on my door to come eat, I stay silent under my sheets until, eventually, she goes away.

By the next morning, I am still a weepy, ugly mess. My eyes are puffier and bloodshot, my hair's sticking up all over the place and I still don the same clothes from last night. Merely the thought of getting up and facing my peers at school again makes me want to bury myself in a hole and die. So when mother comes by again, loudly knocking and sounding impatient as she yells at me to get up, I inwardly groan.

I amble over to my door and tell her behind the door, “Mother, I feel sick.” At least I sound the part. My voice is all croaky and I have to strain myself to shout.

“Why don’t you open the door, Jin-Ju? Let me see.” The knob rattles noisily at my hip.

I hastily answer, “I don’t want you to catch my sickness, mother. I’d feel even more awful than I am now.” That would do the trick. The me-being-the-perfect-caring-daughter-even-through-sickness works every time.

She's silent for a bit and then says. “Are you sure, dear? If it’s just a minor fever, you’d be better off going to school because I’ll be away the whole day. I won’t be able to take care of you.”

Great, I can roam around the house pants-less and eat ice-cream and mourn about Jiyong hating me and not have to worry about my parents then. “It’s not much but I think I can manage by myself,” I reassure her.

It takes me more than a few minutes to talk her into letting me off of school but in the end she sighs, telling me, “Ok, ok, make sure you rest! I’ll leave some veggie sandwiches downstairs and some emergency money. You have my number, right – and your father’s?”

“Yes, I own an adequately capable phone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ok, ok, ok, I’ll be going now. You stay here and rest. Stay hydrated and I’ll try to be back soon. Love you.”

I mumble my ‘love you, too’ and stand silent as I wait for the click of the house door locking. I then strip out of my clothes, only leaving on my panties and bury myself once more into my blankets; I need to get some rest – actual rest. All of last night, I was basically all sniffles and ‘boo-hoos’ as I cradled my hand to my chest, wanting for the tears to stop.

Now, as I lie in bed confined in these four walls, an image of last night appears and the tears threatens to fall again. I place my hand tightly to my eyes and say loudly to myself, “No – no you will not cry about him again. He hates you. Just forget about him, he has a girlfriend. Someone’s who’s better than you and – and y–you will probably never… you will n-n-not… no… no…” I drift off to sleep like that. Incoherent mumbles spilling out of my lips.

I am experiencing a nightmare again. But this time, it’s Hyuna who’s chasing me and she’s literally towering over me, standing at a height of more than 10 feet. I'm running, stumbling in an oversized white weddind dress, trying to escape - no, it's too late. She already has me wrapped in her long, bony fingers, sharp fingernails pinching at my sides. Now she’s cackling as she starts pricking my motionless body with needles. As if I'm just a rag doll, an ugly, useless one.

A flash and I find myself in front of a mirror. I’m wearing another fancy dress. Everything is all elegance and silk but when I properly look into the hazy mirror – it cracks. Suddenly, Bom appears behind me and she’s stroking my cheek, whispering into my ear, “What you see in that mirror is the truth – an ugly bitch.”

Another flash and I’m now standing in the middle of a crossing, located on one of the busiest streets in Seoul. And my school mates suddenly appear out of nowhere, forming a makeshift circle around me. I see Jiyong, face blank and emotionless, and Hyuna behind him, in a blood red flowing dress with her arms wrapped around Jiyong’s, mouthing, “he’s mine”. Then people suddenly start to laugh at me and pointing. They step closer and closer and I grow increasingly claustrophobic. Bom appears once again, a little smile on her lips as she leans in and says to me, “You’re naked, sweetie.”

I scream. “No! No! Get away! Get away!” I thrash wildly, my eyes still squeezed shut. My forehead is beaded with sweat and my heart’s madly hammering as if it's about to pop out of my chest.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” a voice comforts me, “it’s just some crap dream out to get you. It’s not fucking real. I’m here. Don’t worry.”

Then something wet and scaly launches itself onto my forehead.

I only scream louder. “What is that? Oh my god – ew, ew, don’t touch me! I said – don’t touch me!” I tell it, grabbing the thing it placed on me and throwing it far across the room.

I hear some loud yelling (cursing, really) and one sharp crack followed with a hollow thud. I don't dare peep out of my safe cocoon of blankets. I think that even just one look of the person who broke into my house and I’d probably faint.

A girl my age can’t deal with this much drama – it’s barely 24 hours since I last saw my crush sucking face with his bimbo girlfriend.  I can’t die now. I haven’t had my first kiss yet. Let alone my first boyfriend. My parents – oh father will probably be fine – my mother will be devastated. I think the only ones who’d even attend my funeral is my two parents (father would be taken away from his desk by force) and my siblings (maybe not, they’re too busy) and those distant relatives you never talk to (and my mother’s an only child so that just lowers the scale by half).

My life really sucks.

I expect to find a knife stab my stomach – and blood will spurt everywhere, appropriately accompanied with dramatic background screaming – what I don't expect is for the person to be swearing, sounding a lot like he was in pain.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck… what the hell is wrong with you?! I was just trying to flipping comfort you! And this is what I get? A near-fucking-death experience, that’s fucking what.” And he continues grumbling.

I pop one eye out but can't spot him anywhere. Is he hiding beneath my bed? Like some real life boogieman? Eep.

“I can’t believe the big man upstairs gave me a voice to help someone with the likes of you,” he goes on rambling, more to himself than me, “No fucking manners! And you’d thought you’d know a guy after living with them for fucking forever.”

I pay his words no heed. He’s a psychopath, I tell myself, he’s retarded – completely mental, pay him no mind. I then crawl to the edge of my bed and peek under. Dust bunnies get into my eyes and I find the bra I thought I lost 2 months ago; other than that, there's no one hiding there.

I think to myself, ‘is he a… dwarf…?’

“I am right here, you blind prat,” he calls out, still furious-sounding.

I hastily turn towards the direction where I now know he is hiding behind my bookshelf, dusty striped bra held up in defence. “C–come out, w–w–wherever you are!”

And from behind the shelves, a smallish foot appears. “For fuck’s sakes, Jin-Ju, calm your tits, will you, it’s just me.”

 Why is this guy acting like he knows me? How does he even know my name? Maybe he’s a stalker besides being a midget. Oh, god, don’t tell me he took my family as hostages. Even being the lousy older brother Hoseok is; I’d trade a limb for him. “D–don’t act li–like you know m-m-m-me!” I try sounding brave but fail miserably due to my stutter.

I hear him sigh. “Wear your spectacles, Jin-Ju.”

I very nearly hit my head as I lunge for my spectacles lying on my bedside table. I knock over the lamp and alarm clock, though in my haste. I swiftly put them on, saying to him, “Now tell me–”

I stop short.

When I wore my specs, the blurry image lying by the corner of the bookshelf that I thought was a smallish very hairy foot was actually Geobok, looking as grumpy as he always is every other morning.

“Oh… Geobok… I – I thought…” I trail off, confusion written all over my face.

Geobok looks up at me.

And speaks.

With his little teeny turtle mouth.

Actual words.

Fudge.

“You thought what?”

I black out.

It isn't until I order a large pepperoni pizza from Dominos and take a doubly long shower did I manage to muster the sanity to finally sit down in front of my pet turtle

...who talks.

Next thing I'll know, he'll be walking around, singing 80s music. 

Geobok is nonchalantly sitting on a pizza slice, the pizza slice on a plate, and the plate on an armchair. He looked much occupied dealing with the oozy cheese, finding it hard to deal with its stickiness.

Don’t get all hyped, I gave him vegetarian pizza. (As in I ate all the sausages off of his slice.)

I can only gape at him, my plate of food lying neglected on my lap. After ages pass, I finally manage to break out of my stunned silence. “Wuh.”

You try being in a situation where your pet reptile suddenly talks.

Geo looks up from his food and gives me this judging stare. “After all that crap you went and done, that’s all you can fucking say?”

I nod dumbly, still too shocked about the whole ordeal.

“You probably want to know how I ended up like this, when, why, and yada, yada, yada and so on. Am I right?”

Again, I just nod.

“Sheesh, it’s like talking to a fish out of water,” he grumbles. “Well, on the whole ‘how’ basis, old beardy up there was actually listening for once.”

This is when I start to yammer. “Waitwaitwait – you mean… god? He’s real?” I’ve never been very religious nor have my parents. We’ve probably never went to church before and the only Christian-y thing my family’s done is probably Christmas.

It’s not like I’ve never prayed before – I used to. I started to ever since the bullying started. But after dozens of time praying and willing and hoping I just stopped doing it at one point. Maybe it’s because he never answered. 

Well, he has now.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, he’s as real as it gets – and a pain I tell you. He also pitied you a lot for having such a pathetic life.”

I don't even take notice of the jab, my mind is all, ‘Wow, my pet turtle has met god. Did he shake his hand?’

“Now, back to me,” Geo says, “when I started talking is just last night actually.”

“Wait – last night?”

“Will you really be repeating every little thing I say?”

“No, no, it’s just – why didn’t you talk to me then. I was really devastated last night…”

If he has shoulders, he would've shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“…”

He continues, “Why I’m here is because I have been specially elected to grant you your wishes.”

“So you don’t just talk – you can grant me wishes, too?” I say, ecstatic.

Sadly, that is not the case. “No, no, no, not all that magic nonsense – that shit gives me a complete migraine – I’m here to help you fulfil your wishes.”

My excitement deflates quickly, replaced with incredulity regarding the whole situation. Is this really what god has in store for me? “What can you possibly do, Geo? If you haven’t noticed it yet, you’re barely the size of my fist.”

“Hey, I am no fucking miracle worker, you just need a bit of… what’s the word – oh yes, ‘fixing up’ to do and then you’re good to go.”

“What am I, a broken tea pot?”

“You can say that.”

I cross my arms and give him a look.

“Oh, stop, I will try my fucking best if you’re denying my awesome abilities,” he says. “And you’re not that hopeless – you have potential.”

I narrow my eyes, not sure if that was a compliment or what. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to be, sweetie.”

There's silence for a beat. Then I say, “When will you start your…‘fixing up’?”

“Oh, bloody hell, it’s all questions, questions, and questions with you, isn’t it?” he says, sounding a bit exasperated but still answering with a, “Tomorrow – whenever I fucking feel like it. Not today though. If you remember recalling, you threw me into a flipping wall.”

I blush out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was possible for turtles to talk then.”

“S’okay, we were born with shells to withstand ruthless people like you,” he says, making me feel guiltier.

“I said sorry!”

“Alright, alright, don’t have to scream. Geez.”

I really don’t feel like knowing what the universe has in store for me in the future. Better just focus on eating this whole pizza before mother gets back. If she knew, she’d throw a fit.

The conversation ends there. Well for a little bit, Geo speaks up again, randomly. “Think of me as your ‘guardian angel’.”

“You’re a turtle,” I deadpan.

“Exactly.”

EDITED (8/5/2014).

A/N: I am on an updating rollllllllllllllllllllllll.

Be happy, peeps.