As soon as Lia sat the last plate of food down on the table, it was a feast of wolves.

          Never in her life had she seen such vicious eaters; however, it was understandable. With twelve boys living under one roof, one must have to be competitive in order to get the food they wanted.

          About halfway through the meal, Kyungsoo wandered from him room, starting at the site of the spread set out on the table. “What’s all this?” he questioned, his eyes drifting to Lia. “Did you make all this?”

          She nodded. “Jongin called me and asked me to make dinner.”

          Kyungsoo sighed, stumbling over to her and laying his head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you made all this . . .” he mumbled apologetically. “I wasn’t going to starve them.”

          “Yeah right!” Tao shouted, and Kyungsoo cast an annoyed glance at him.

          “I wouldn’t have let you have any, though,” he growled, and Tao shrunk back, hiding behind Sehun.

          “What, you think I’ll save you from him?” Sehun jested. “I’d rather let you die than me go with you.”

          “Sehun-ah!” Tao whined, and Suho cleared his throat.

          “Eat, you two,” Suho barked, and they continued digging into their plates.

          Lia watched them quietly before moving into the living room. Once she’d finished cooking, it was like a wall of fatigue had hit her. Now, taking the opportunity while she had it, she collapsed onto the couch, stretching herself out and laying an arm over her eyes.

          “Lia?” Jongin called from the other room. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

          “No,” she said. “I’m not hungry. I’m just tired.”

          “I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo apologized again.

          She let out a short bark of laughter. “It’s not because of that,” she said. “I just haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”

          Jongin leaned back in his seat so that he could see Lia on the couch. “Lia.”

          “Hm?”

          “Is it because of your dad?” he asked.

          “Yeah,” she groaned, rolling over. “I’m gonna try and sleep.” She grimaced as she heard them murmuring at the table, and she knew what they were asking; what happened with her dad?

          It grew quiet, and she assumed they’d gone back to eating. However, a few seconds later, she felt a weight on her legs. Her head popped up quickly, frowning in confusion at Jongin, who had sat down directly on top of her legs. “What?”

          “Go to sleep,” he whispered, giving her a reassuring smile and patting her leg. “I’ll sit at the end of the couch.”

          “No, I’ve got to go home soon,” she deflected, sitting up. As she did, a feeling of dizziness rushed towards her, and she held her head in an attempt to quell the pain.

          “Are you okay?” Jongin asked, his voice dripping with worry.

          “Yeah,” she groaned. “I’ve just got a headache.”

          He put a hand against her forehead, his icy cold hands sending a shiver down her spine. “You don’t have a fever,” he said after a moment, “But you should stay here just in case.”

          “That’s the exact reason to why I shouldn’t stay here!” she objected. “You all can’t get sick!”

          He pursed his lips. “We have a good immune system. You don’t. Now lie down,” he commanded. “You need sleep. When’s the last time you slept?”

          “I . . .” she hesitated, trying to remember.

          “The fact that you have to think about it is a problem,” he said. “Now I will sit right here. I’ll fend off this hoard of testosterone laden boys while you sleep.”

          She laughed hoarsely. Laying back down and curling into the corner of the couch. “If they ask, you can tell them. I don’t mind.”

          “Are you sure?”

          She nodded. “It would explain why I kicked you all out back when you helped me move in.”

          “Fine,” he agreed, patting her head.

          “Oh, and Jongin?”

          “Yeah?”

          “Thanks,” she mumbled as her eyelids drifted closed. The last thought she had before her mind wandered into darkness what the smile Jongin gave her, telling her that everything would be alright.

 

---

 

Lia’s hands felt around in the darkness as sobs choked from her body. Detective Park had told her that her family in America would be kind; she said that they would love her. Was this kindness? Was this love?

          The door to the closet flew open. Her grandmother snarled as she dragged her from the small closet and into the living room, throwing her down in front of her grandfather. “Guess what,” her grandmother hissed. “I found this little brat writing like a damn Asian.”

          Her grandfather cackled, snatching up the belt that lay beside her. “This little ,” he murmured. “Has nerve just like her mother. Maybe I should beat some sense into her.”

          Lia shook her head quickly, trying to scramble away. Hands wrapped around her neck, shaking her back and forth. “YOU AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!” her grandmother bellowed, bring her only inches away from her wrinkly face before throwing her against the ground. “If you’re going to teach her a lesson,” she spoke to her husband, “You better do it now while she still knows what she did wrong.”

          He nodded, standing up slowly and lumbering towards Lia. She tried to wriggle away again, but her grandmother pinned her against the floor, flashing a yellow-stained grin. “Now you’ll know better than to act like one of them.”

          “NO,” Lia screamed, struggling against her grandmother’s arms. “GRANDPA, PLEASE. DON’T HIT ME. DON’T-”

          “Lia!”

          Lia sat bolt upright, tears streaming down her face. Gasps ripped at her chest as she looked into Jongin’s wild eyes in front of her. Hearing her screams, everyone came running in, all confused. As she realized what had happened, she slowly slumped down, hiding her head between her knees.

“I’m sorry . . .” she sobbed. Jongin rubbed her back, cooing softly. “I’m sorry, Jongin-ah . . .”

 

---

 

She couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Eventually, everyone wandered back to their rooms, including Jongin (with enough persuasion). Lia lay there, her eyes tracing the ceiling as light slowly began to creep through the blinds.

          Kris emerged from the hallway, stumbling in his haziness. “Hey,” he grumbled in English, rubbing his eyes as he trudged to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned carrying two glasses of milk. “Here,” he offered, handing her a glass as he sat down on the couch beside her.

          “Thanks,” she croaked, her voice hoarse after not talking for so long. “I’m sorry about last night.”

          He shook his head. “Don’t be. But there’s something I’d like to ask, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“Jongin told us,” he said. “About your family I mean.”

          “Yeah, I figured,” she noted.

          “Well,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t mean to pry, but when you were talking in your sleep last night, you were talking about your grandparents. Not your father.”

She nodded slowly, understanding why he was so hesitant.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he reassured quickly, waving his hands.

“No,” she said, “It’s just that I’ve never told anyone about this. Can you promise me something?” He bobbed his head, and she bit her lip. “If I do tell you, can you promise me that you won’t tell Jongin?”

“Why?”

“You know him,” she joked weakly. “Even though he couldn’t have done anything, he’s the type that would feel responsible. I don’t want him to think it was his fault that this all happened.”

“It seems like you’re that way as well,” was all Kris said, and she laughed bitterly.

“I suppose,” she agreed. “But really. Promise me.”

He sighed softly, his lips. “Fine. Although I think this is something you should be telling him.”

She ignored his statement, brushing back her bangs. “After my mother died, my only family was in America. They sent me there, telling me it would be a fresh start. They said I’d love it in America, that I would have a family that actually took care of me. And that’s why when I got there, I assumed that they’d welcome me with open arms.” She paused, shifting in her seat and tucking her knees under her chin.

“Whenever I would do anything they didn’t like – speak in Korean, mention my mother, mention Jongin – they’d lock me in the closet. Sometimes it was for a few hours, sometimes for days on end. Once they took me out they’d . . .” she trailed off, losing her voice for a second. “They would beat me. Most of the time it was with an iron poker, or with a belt, but they also used to use cigarettes to burn me,” she told him, lifting up her shirt sleeve to show him a large, circular scar the size of a quarter.

“I’m surprised Jongin hasn’t mentioned it,” she began again, trying her hardest not to look Kris in the eye. “Right before I left, he made me promise him to write to him. But as soon as I got there, it was obvious that any mention of anything relating to my life in Korea was forbidden. That’s why I couldn’t keep in touch with him.”

“How did you get away?” he asked, a worried tone to his voice.

“I worked. I worked since the moment I got there and until I graduated high school,” she explained. “Not only did I work, but I made sure that my grades were perfect. That way once I graduated, I would be able to have a scholarship for a university and money to get me off my feet. I hadn’t intended on coming to Korea, but when they accepted my application with a full-ride scholarship, I knew I had to come and get as far away from them as possible.”

She looked up, grimacing at the somber look on Kris’s face. “Don’t worry,” she reassured, “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong. I’m over it by now.”

Kris shook his head quickly. “I know that’s not true. I feel like you should tell Kai. He’d want to know – besides, if you keep having flashbacks like this, you’ll never be able to live with yourself.”

Putting a hand to her face, she leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, switching back to Korean. “I don’t think I could tell him if I wanted.”