At Kiseop’s apartment, he and the boy sat on each end of the sofa in the living room. Kiseop opened the file he was given and read the profile out loud. “Name. TK950. That isn’t a name.” He looked at the boy. “So, what’s your name?” He asked the boy.

“TK 950,” replied the boy.

“That can’t be your name. Don’t you have a real name like Bob or David or Steven?” The boy did not reply. “Fine, then. I’ll call you TK.” Kiseop continued to look at the file. “Wow! You’re 15?” The boy nodded. “Wow. I know that you’re young but I didn’t expect that young. Wait. If you’re 15, then our will be…” Kiseop thinks for a while. “8 years. Wait.” Kiseop looks at his profile again. “It says here that your birthday is in November but it doesn’t say exactly when. If your birthday is in November, then you’re not 15 yet. If you’re not 15 yet that means our is…. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Arghh! Never mind. Let’s just say our is 8 years. It’s easier that way.”

Then, Kiseop’s stomach starts to grumble. He laughs awkwardly. “You hungry?” Kiseop headed to the kitchen. “Come on. I know you are. There was no trace of food in that box of yours. And who knows how long you’ve been in that box? No matter how long, anyone would be hungry being stuck in a box alone like that. So, what would you like? I don’t really know how to cook but I can make simple food. Like scrambled eggs or a sandwich.” He leaned against the counter with his two hands to support him. “TK?”

“No food is necessary, Mr. Lee,” replied TK.

“What do you mean ‘no food is necessary’?” questioned Kiseop.

“I am not required to be fed.”

“Huh? Can you explain it a little further? I seriously don’t understand a single you’ve just said.”

“I am not required to consume food, Mr. Lee.” TK reached into his pockets and took out a packet containing a syringe. “I get all I need with this.”

“What’s that?”

“My source of nutrition and energy.” TK ripped the packet open and injected the syringe into his left arm.

Kiseop watched in horror, horrified that a 15 year old boy just stuck a needle into his arm right in front of him. “Are you nuts?” said Kiseop as he walked towards TK. He took the syringe from TK’s hand and threw it away. He grabbed TK’s arm. “It’s bleeding.” He rushed for the first aid kit in the kitchen.

As he was doing that, TK said, “But it’s okay, Mr. Lee. It’ll stop bleeding on its own.”

“No it’s not,” said Kiseop as he walked back to the living room. “I don’t care if your previous caretaker didn’t care if you were bleeding like this. I do.” He grabbed TK’s arm and put a band aid on wound. Kiseop’s words made TK flustered.

“Go take a shower and I’ll cook up something for you. When was the last time you’ve eaten?” TK looked at the floor. “You don’t know?” TK started feeling guilty and said, “No.”

Kiseop sighed. “Never mind. Just go take a shower. The bathroom is over there.”

TK complied and headed to the bathroom. Once he was inside, he bent down and took a blade out of the sides of his sneaker. He pulled up his left sleeve and placed the blade over his wrist. He whispered to himself, “8 kicks and 1 slap. That makes it 9. Then….” He looked at the band aid. “9 will do.” Before he slit his wrist, he took off his clothes and went into the shower. He put the blade over his wrist and made 9 slits.