Prologue:

Night-time

It is the darkness I remember most of all. The darkness and the strageness of it all.

I am eight years old and lying i my bed. Mum and Dad are asleep. My brothers, Sehun and Lay, are asleep. My little sister, Mindi, is asleep. All around me is pitch-black, and I am huddle under my covers hoping that they will protect me from the hidden terrors of the dark. NIght-time have always been scary for me. Bad things happen at night.

Things that shouldn't happen.

But tonight I can't sleep, and morning seems a long way away. I am in a strange room in a strange house. The people I am with are strangers and I don't like it here. My mum tucked me in a long time ago, gave me a kiss on my forehed and whispered "Good night, Jayne." But I have been awake ever since, a jumble of confused thoughts going round in my head. I have been thinking of home, of the life I left behind. And I have been thinking about how happy all the other children seem to be. There will be a party in two day's time, with dressing-up, and music, and cakes.The others are filled with excitement,and I wish I could share it, but somehow I can't.

Something isn't right. It's not just that I find myself in a new place, far away from the life I know so well. There is something else. Someone else. His name is Taemin. He has blonde hair and piercing black eyes that seem to see right throught me. The grown-ups like him: they like the way he talks to them, and the way he acts with us children. But I am not sure. I am too little to speak up, to have an opinion about such things, but I don't understand why he always seems to be here. When I walk into a room , he is waiting for me. When I try to find somewhere to be alone, he turns up like a bad penny, disturbing me with some made-up qestion or errand. Occcasonally he touches me, and my flesh creeps when he does. I hate it so much.

When the grown-ups are around he goes out of way to help them, and talks to me in the cheerful, friendly, encouraging voice. Now and then, however,when no one else can see, I catch him looking at me. I don't like the expression in his eyes.

There is a deadness.

A flatness.

But when it is just me and him, he canges.

He becomes scary.

He shouts at me, tells me I am stupid, that I am annoying and clumsy and that I am doing things wrong. That I am naughty and will upset my parents.

I close my eyes tightly, praying for sleep to come, to extinguish my worries and make me fell safe again. And eventually it does, but not before I am forced to look at his face in my mide's eyes, to hear his voice echo in my head. If I had know what he had in his mind, I would never have fallen asleep. I would have run straight into my mum and dad's room, begged them to let me sleep with them. I would scremed and shouted, no matterhow much it distrubed my family and our hosts. But as I sleep, I have no idea that my life is about to change for ever. Of course I don't. Why would I.

What child, in her innocence, could possibly imagine the things that are about to happen?

What child, in her innocence,could know that grown-ups could be so evil?

What child, in her innocence,could begin to understand why?

As I sleep, he is preparing himself. He knows what is going to happen. He knows the urges that are controlling him. He knows the only thing that will satisfy them.

Worst of all, he knows where I am.

He leaves his room in the dead of night. The rest of the household asleep, he creeps along the corridor. He stops outside my door. His breath is unsteady with excitement, and so are his head. Slowly, quietly, the door opens and he steps inside, closing the door silently behind him. For a few moments he looks down at the little girl in the bed, fast asleep. She will be awake soon, but when that happens he knows how he will keep her quit, both for the moment and in the future.

He's got it all worked out.

I am allowed a few more seconds of blissful sleep. Of innocence and ignorance of the terrible things that can happen to a child.

But then he takes another step towards me. Hhe bends down and pulls back the blankets. He forces himself on top of my curled-up, sleeping body.

And so it begins.

A/N               Well I am sure that some of you won't read like this story, but I say to give it a try.