Time had become a time-warp. Krystal was violently thrown back into her younger years these past few weeks. This was supposed to be the summer where she enjoyed her academic freedom, the summer where she finally got to figure her out, figure out whether or not she even wanted to sit these government exams, maybe try one of Amber's pot-brownies, go clubbing with Sulli and Luna, and generally just enjoy the youth that she'd been robbed of for the past few years.

But no, sometimes life is a ing  and simply loves to remind you how completely and utterly at her mercy you are, and every now and then she'll throw the mother of all curve-balls your way just to with you that little bit more. Great.

Where Krystal had finally been given the chance to enjoy life by living out her new-found freedom and relative mental stability, instead, she found herself going through all of the same bull that she had to endure over 3 years ago. 

Standing by the window in her parents' living room, Krystal peeked through the curtains that partially covered the view of the front drive, at the end of which, a metal gate shut out the dozens of reporters vying to get a glimpse inside. All of them stood with their insect-like cameras and props focused and trained at the house of the Ambassador and his family, who were in the news yet again over the case of their missing, eldest daughter. 

Only now, a body had been found. 

When Krystal had first heard the news, she remembered being in a strange sort of daze for a while; it felt like she was walking around on clouds, as if she were no longer truly planted to the earth that she walked across, but rather gliding everywhere as everything passed her by. The world around her all seemed a horrible shade of grey, the life and light of everything having been dry until there was nothing but empty shells left behind. 

She was stronger going through it now than she was back then, strong enough to even go with her father to identify the body and not completely crumble when it turned out to really be her. It was the god of all oxymorons, the epitome of antithesis. Whilst the world around her had all but faded to grey, Jessica looked alive as ever laid out on the table. Krystal kept waiting for her sister to just sit up and to talk, to smile and then laugh with that beautiful, melodic ring that she always had. Yet there she remained, still and unmoving. It had simply been easier for Krystal to tell herself that Jessica was just in a deep sleep. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to bear being in that room at all. 

Her father had remained straight-faced and stoic through the entire ordeal, breaking face only for a moment once they'd stepped out of the morgue room and into the entrance hall. He'd turned to Krystal, placing a hand on her shoulder and shedding what was perhaps the only tear she'd ever seen her father let slip. She'd never expected to be the one that would have to stay strong for her parents, but every now and then, life would force the child to be the one remain calm and reliable for the sake of the parent. 

Since then, Krystal had moved back into her parents house for the time being, if not for the sake of her privacy, then also to protect her friends from the journalists that continued to hound them after 2 weeks. 

When the story broke, everything seemed to slowly implode and unravel. Day after day, more and more reporters would appear outside of their house, all waiting and craning for a glimpse of the family who'd been riddled by such tragedy over the past 3 years. Krystal couldn't even go for walks or stand by the window too long out of fear of being seen. Her father would repeatedly get hounded on the way to work and the attorney's investigation office, offering only the statement that the family lawyer had written up for them; 

We cannot comment on the investigation at the moment. We only ask that the press and the public, offer myself and my family sympathy at a time where this tragedy continues to embroil our family.

Besides the relentless pursuits of the press, the public really did seem to be on their side. Krystal wasn't one for social media, yet her Twitter was flooded with thousands of messages of concern, commiseration and condolences for her tragic loss, not to mention the odd talk-show host reaching out to her for potential features. But nevertheless, it seemed only right for Krystal to deactivate her accounts for the time being; the last time this all happened, Krystal had made the mistake of falling too deeply into the social media trap. This time round, Krystal was really trying to take care of herself. 

Yet today was different. 

As Krystal watched the news reporter she recognised from KBS give this evening's updates, she dropped the curtain and backed away into the corner of the wall. Leaning against the cold, embossed wallpaper, Krystal had to calm her breathing, reminding herself that she was safe in here, and that the reporters wouldn't breach those gates. 

Yet that wasn't exactly helping either. She hadn't left this house in weeks. Had hardly eaten anything, let alone spoken to her friends either. Krystal was used enough to this game at this point to know when she was getting bad again. Only this time, she was fully conscious and willing to stop it in its tracks before the dark shadow would spread through her mind and threaten to drag her into darkness once more. 

First and foremost - she needed to get out of this house. 

For the past few weeks, the only faces Krystal had seen were either her parents', the cleaner and the Uber-Eats guy who brought her her favourite pastries and fried chicken every week. Even for someone like Krystal, always the introvert, being stuck here like this was becoming too oppressive. 

Stalking up to her room, Krystal quickly assembled some of the clothes, makeup and wash-stuff that she'd brought over from the apartment, as well as one of the diarie