Eden

As Joonmyeon walked home, he thought about what Hyesung had told him.

About her. About her friends. About the way she lived.

“I don’t remember a lot from before I was six. Maybe it’s because I wanted to forget. But I remember that I used to have a family. We were a happy family, a normal family. It was on a shopping trip to Myeongdong one day. My dad and my brother went to get us all food, while my mom and me went to find more clothes. It was a normal family trip. Everyone was smiling and laughing, and the sun was shining. Myeongdong was crowded, just like it always is.”

He sighed, rummaging around in his pocket, hearing the coins in his jacket clink against his keys. Pulling his keys out, he slowly opened the door to his apartment.

Yixing had dance that night, from around seven to twelve. He wouldn’t be back until really late, especially given that his showcase was in less than two weeks. So, Joonmyeon was alone that night.

Joonmyeon’s laptop was right where he’d left it hours before, sitting closed on the coffee table. A folded piece of paper was sitting on top of it, Baekhyun’s writing scrawled on it. There were two mugs on the table as well, one empty, but one half-full and cold.

“Something went wrong in the crowd. I never learned exactly what happened, but I let go of my mom’s hand for just a second. Just one second. I heard her yelling for me, but I couldn’t find her. Everyone was moving too fast.”

His footsteps echoed as he trudged up the stairs. The door to his room creaked open as he pushed it open. He flipped the lights on and entered his room.

To most people, it’d look like the room of a neat college student. But to Joonmyeon, it looked like organized chaos… just without the chaos. He sighed, moving towards his hamper and pushing it back towards the wall. He straightened his books on his desk, replacing his laptop in the center.

He sat, opening the computer and loading it up.

“I panicked, then ran. I never saw my family again after that. I was pretty much on my own for a week. No money to get home or even food. Then, I met this one guy who called himself Song. Just Song, nothing else. He bought me food and new clothes, then offered me a place to stay.”

The word document appeared on his screen. Joonmyeon stared at the pages filled with boring law. Moments passed that everything that had happened throughout the day flew through his mind.

He remembered that Hyesung had started to tear up when she started talking about the man named Song. He’d never seen her looking so vulnerable before. Even when he’d touched her by accident, she’d always gone on the defensive. Yet just the memory of that man could bring her to tears. Not that he could blame her.

No one could blame her, especially after what he’d done to her.

“I was six… and he brought me to be sold. He worked in human trafficking, and I was going to be sold away. But Song’s boss… he said no one would buy a girl who couldn’t obey. I was scared and I fought back as best I could. I bit, kicked, scratched… everything I could to make sure that they wouldn’t touch me.”

Joonmyeon squeezed his eyes shut, hearing her words echo in his mind. He couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through. He didn’t understand why she was still alive, how she could possibly have wanted to live with everything that’d been done to her.

“The men there… they-they forced me to do things that no six-year-old should have to do. I-I don’t… I just… All I remember is going mute. I just wanted to get out of there and find my mom and dad… I thought they would come to save me someday… but they didn’t. They never found me.”

She’d run.

She’d run away from the men who hurt her. One night, during roll call, she never showed up. While the men came to look for her, she snuck out through the kitchens. She was still small enough to do so, and when she got out, she ran.

At only six, Hyesung was alone on the streets of Seoul, one of the largest cities in the world.

There were so many people, even with the surname Nam as a clue, that it was near impossible for her to find her parents without help. And she was six when she’d been separated. He really couldn’t blame her for not even bothering to try.

If it’d been him, he wouldn’t have been able to run.

He just would’ve cried, confused about why it happened to him. Why he was the one who was being tortured just for letting go of his mother’s hand.

“Changmin found me a day later. He was a third year middle school st