It's dark. Yet, I could see as clear as daylight. I'm in a room. But I'm not alone. In the far left corner, a little girl was sobbing, she was bounded by her wrist and was dirty from the dust that covered the floor. Her raven hair was sprawled everywhere around her face. Her eyes where puffy, and blood-shoot red from wailing. Her cheeks red sore from whipping her tears away. Trying to stay strong.  She didn't seem to notice my presence, for she kept mumbling for her parents to come and get her. She kept crying for help, crying for someone, anyone to save her. But no one came. It might have been days since she was locked up. She was given food but she didn't eat it. I felt bad for her. She was only 5 and she had to go through this torture. Until, the 4th day. I have had enough on seeing her cry. I slowly walked towards her. Taking light steps, afraid that the people outside the room would hear. She didn't see me, she can't see me. For, when she looked up and went to wipe her tears she didn't notice me. But I noticed her. Shocked, terrified and surprise ran through my veins when I saw the little 5 year old's face. Shocked because, she looked exactly like me when I was her age. Terrified, because I didn't now if she was real or I'm going insane. Surprised, because she looked exactly like me. Again, the little girl didn't notice me sitting infront of her. I looked at her, studied her features and looked at her more. 

"I'm definitely going insane" I muttered to myself while, looking at the mysterious 5 year old infront of me. 

There was a commotion outside. The sound of glass breaking, gun firing and animals growling. The uproar, outside the room, did not frighten the little girl. It only excited her. I was about to reach for the door, when the little girl beat me to it.   She frantically banged on the door with her little fist. 

"Oppa, I'm in here! Appa!! Oma!!!!" 

All movement halted on the other side of the door. The 5 year old's plea was answered by another yell.

"Back away from the door, swettie" a familiar feminine voice called from the the other side "Appa's going to break down the door" She did as she was told and went back to her corner. Not a couple seconds passed, a loud bang was heard and the door fell to the floor. The little girl came running towards, while I stayed put. Frozen to my spot. I wasn't amazed because someone broke down the door, but the person who did it. He was familiar, all to familiar. I knew him, even if I was blind, deaf and even in my sleep. I knew who he was. He's my-

"Appa!!" The little girl ran to him and hugged him. Crying in his shoulder. While he picked her up and looked to his right where my-

"Omma!" The little girl wailed again. Only now reaching out for her mom. No this isn't right. Something's not right. The little girl was calling my parents her mom and dad. I don't remember having a little sister, nor do I remember any of this happing to me. "Appa, where's oppa?" And I absolutely don't remember having an older brother. What's going on!? This little girl can't be me. It just doesn't make any sense. 

"Hyoyeon-ah, your oppa is in the car waiting for you" without even thinking about it. The little girl, now called Hyoyeon, jumped out of her mothers embrace and ran outside. Not aware of