CHAPTER ONE:

            “Samantha! Get up!” Your mother yelled to you from down the stairs. You just groaned, pulling your blanket over your head. You didn’t want to get up for school, it was supposed to rain. You didn’t want to get wet…and you were still tired since you went to bed at midnight. Not very smart idea! You heard your mother stomp up the stairs and to your room.

            You loved your mom, you admit that, but you also admit, that if she wasn’t your mom, you’d never go near her. Same with your father, a man who was too stupid to notice his wife was having an affair with the neighbor. Your brother was both of them put together. He was a total man w h o r e, and was too stupid to not use any sort of protection or keep it in his pants. You were most likely already an aunt, but you would never know since all his hookups were the ones from the sides of the street – you know what I mean. In fact, if you packed up everything you had right now and left, never coming back, they wouldn’t stop you; and you wouldn’t want them to either.

            The door slammed open, bringing you from your thoughts.

            “Samantha Jean Akimoto! Get your a-s-s up and get dressed! It’s your first day going to a Korean College and you are NOT going to ruin it! I got you a full scholarship -,” your mother ranted. You blocked out the noise, not really caring that she was pulling clothes out of the closet, not caring if they weren’t fashionable or not. She just ranted on about that “scholarship” you got to try to be a doctor, something your mother always wanted to be, but dropped out because she was pregnant with your older brother, Brutus. Weirdly enough, it also meant “stupid” but your parents decided it meant “strong”. And, the only reason you ever got a “scholarship” was because the headmaster there was letting you go for free because your mother slept with for at least an entire night. The blanket was then pulled off you, making you shiver once before you sat up, wide awake, to the sound of a shriek.

            “Mom? Wh-what’s wr-wrong?” You asked immediately as you sat up, seeing your mother staring at you with wide eyes. You stopped talking, hearing a younger voice in the place of your own. You put your hand on your throat, shocked. “Mom? Wh-what’s ha-happened t-to me-e?” You looked at your hands, they were small; your arm was small and thin, too; as were your legs and feet and your entire body. You got up and walked to your full length mirror, making your mother gasp and back up at the sight that you were coming close to her…as if you had a disease. You decided to ignore it and look in the mirror, gasping.

            You looked at yourself, shocked. You were turned back into a little girl. You were still smart – you could tell that since you could remember everything you learned the day before –, you looked sort of adorable, and you knew you could still play the instruments you loved. The only thing different was that you were in a child’s body. You turned to your mother, your eyes filled with shock. She flinched, moving backwards.

            “M-mother, I -,” you began, walking towards her, but she screamed and moved back.

            “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU-YOU-ABOMINATION!” she screamed at you before running out the door, looking you inside your bedroom by most likely putting a chair under the knob.

            You felt your heart deflate for a moment, hearing your mother say that. You were your mother’s dream child. She loved you (well to some extent) enough to never let you move out too far to pay for college yourself. You were smart, could play many instruments, and was known to be the “prettiest” girl in your old college back in Japan. The only thing she ever had a problem with was that you stuttered. You couldn’t speak properly, ever since you were born. She tried to get it to stop when you were around the age you were now, but the lady couldn’t help after a year of it. She said that you would most likely stop stuttering in a “loving” environment where the people “cherished” you. Your mother tried so many times to make that environment, but nothing happened. Eventually, she became a  w h o r e and gave up trying to “help” you. You eventually became really shy and wouldn’t talk to anyone except the teachers, wearing fake glasses and knotting up your hair to make nobody come near you. That’s just how you turned out, and you were bored with your life.

            But like this, you could redo everything you’ve ever done that made you so shy and uncomfortable. You could grow up and get a boyfriend, follow your dreams to be a Kpop and Jpop star or major in music and maybe History or Math! Maybe learn English and Chinese or Malaysian, just for the fun of it! You already would count as a child prodigy, so why not make the best of it? At that thought, you smiled big. You grabbed all your money you had hidden, put it in a small pouch, put the pouch in between your shorts you were wearing (the clothes you went to bed in somehow shrunk with you, to your delight), and then put on socks, shoes, and a jacket. You were so ready to leave once and for all, maybe find a new family to be with, when your door slammed open, revealing your father and brother who looked as if they were going to blow from anger. They grabbed you, put a pillow case over your head, and duct-taped your feet together and your hands together. They then threw you over one of their shoulders and took you out somewhere.

            “D-dad! St-stop! P-please!” You cried, scared of what they may do. “I-it’s m-me! Y-your d-daughter, Sa-Samantha! P-please, d-daddy!” He ignored you and just continued to walk. Soon, you began to feel really cold as if they had taken you outside. You heard the trunk open and started to scream and cry more as you felt them put you in the trunk before closing it. You banged on the door with your knees and your hands that they had duct-taped in front of you. They started the car and you drove off, you not knowing where they were taking you. You stopped kicking and hitting the trunk and just took your hood off. You looked around the trunk, not really seeing anything well until your eyes adjusted to the objects around you.

            You looked around and saw your father’s old toolbox he always looked for but could never find because it was always left in here. You opened the tool box, feeling the car stop, but then start going. You sighed in relief and opened the box, seeing a pair of sharp pliers. You couldn’t see or feel anything else that may be useful, so you stuck them face down next to the pouch, deciding you might need them later. You then closed the toolbox and put it back where it was. You then pulled the bag back over your head and waited for the car to stop for good.

            Soon, it stopped and the trunk opened.

            “Oh! My toolbox,” your father said, sounding happy. It was silent and nothing was happening. “Uh, what were we supposed to do with your sister again?”

            “I dun-no,” Brutus replied. “How ‘bout we just leave her here?”

            “That sounds good.” One of them then picked you up, and walked a bit ways before dumping you on the hard ground, most likely away from the street…hopefully. You then were kicked in the stomach and your legs, feeling once of them (you figured Brutus) twisted your ankle on purpose. You screamed in pain, feeling tears fall down your face. They soon left when there was a clap of thunder, only knowing because they weren’t hurting you, footsteps were heard running away, and a car starting at least a yard or two away. You laid there for a minute, catching your breath. Soon, though, the rain started and you heard more footsteps and mumbling.

            “The boys are going to kill me,” a voice mumbled in Korean. “If I left early, I would’ve been okay…but it’s their fault…they left me here to get food.” They kicked a stone and it hit your stomach, not really hard, but you had a bruise so it did hurt, making you groan in pain.

            You heard the footsteps stop, and then start to come closer really fast as if they were running. Immediately, you felt two warm hands on you, not in a bad way, just on your arms and left leg since you were laying on your right side.

            “Ow-Owie!” you squealed when he (you assumed it was) touched your ankle. You squirmed slightly, but couldn’t really do much because of the pain. His hand immediately left your ankle.

            “Sorry! Sorry!” He said, sounding really worried to you. He then pulled the case off your head, making you able to see his face.

            His face was drawn and he looked really concerned as his eyes raked over your pale body in only shorts that go a little below the knee, a thin looking shirt, and a thin jacket. You didn’t even have shoes on! You figured they must have taken them off of you when they roughed you up.

            “Are you okay?” he asked after a while. “Do you need me to call someone for you? An ambulance or family member?” You shook your head.

            “I-I n-need th-these c-cut o-off, j-jebal,” you stuttered out. He understood and looked around, seeming to look for something sharp. “P-pliers -,” he whipped around to look at you. “P-pliers. Un-under m-my sh-short h-hem. P-please.” He looked really uncertain to touch you, or your pants, but decided to look anyway. He lifted up your shirt a little, seeing red handles to pliers, a small blue pouch next to it, and a huge bruise on your stomach. He took out the pouch and the pliers, putting your shirt back where it was. He took the pliers and began to cut the duct-tape off. He eventually got your hands undone and was working on your feet when his phone rang.

            “Yoboseyo?” he answered, putting the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “I’m a long way…I know…I know, I’m sorry -,” you cut him off with a small shriek of pain. He immediately took away the pliers and looked at you apologetically, seeing he had pushed the pliers into your skin and had drew a bit of blood. You could hear yelling on the other side of the phone. “Yes, I’m fine, Chen…I will be home soon…No, no, I am okay…Okay, sorry, but I have to go.” He hung up the phone quickly as the other person grew louder as if more people were yelling at him. He sighed and finally cut through tape. He then checked out your bruises.

            “You w-won’t l-leave m-me h-hear, r-right?” You asked, fear dripping into your voice. He looked up at you, smiled, and shook his head.

            “No, sweetie,” he answered, petting your head. “You’re one of mine now.”

            “One o-of y-yours?” you asked confused. He smiled even wider, picking you up bridal style just as the rain began to pour.

            “Yes, my new little sister.”

            And with that, you buried your head in his chest as he began to run out of the alley. After ten minutes of running as fast as he could with you in his arms, he was home, on the porch. You woke up when he stopped, looking at the big door in front of you. He flung open the door, making you cringe when it banged against the wall.

            “Children! We’re home!”

            Children? And with that, your entire world became a lot….noisier.