When they reach the second floor, the young girl feels intimidated by the massive amount of doors surrounding her. If it weren’t for the messily written names sharpied—or some preferably spray painted—onto the door, Jun was sure that she would forget which room was which.

“That’s your room,” is all the man says, pointing to something behind her, past the railings for the stairs, she sees an untainted door. The man who was showing her the way from the company building is too tall, too mean, too terrifying, and hasn’t spoken to her at all no matter how nice she was to him. No wonder Jun feels weirdly relieved as she looks in the direction of her new room, her only escape. She can’t help but hope, maybe there is still a chance for this place to be better than the past one?

Getting the message, she quietly crosses the room and enters her so-called bedroom. The walls are a pure white, as if it hadn’t been touched in years, and the only thing in the room is a baby blue twin-sized bed and a built in closet.

Not a second later, the door closes just a bit too forcefully behind her, causing the frail girl to jump. Sighing, Jun heads towards the small bed, sitting herself a top of it, bouncing slightly. She surveys her new room, already thinking about where to put her belongings: her favorite books, a couple of framed pictures, all the little things that make home feel like home. Another sigh escapes her lips as she falls back onto the bed, lowkey frustrated that she was forced to move somewhere else from her only family. Yet, at the same time, she secretly enjoys every moment being outside of the confining mansion.

Ever since she was young, Jun had been restricted to her often too large mansion, never allowed to play with the other children. She can’t remember the last time she spoke to her parents and the only reminder she had any, were a few old, dusty photos that clung to the wall. Of course there were the staff, the cooks and the maids and the chauffeur; the chauffeur being the only one that ever replied whenever the young child talked.

By the age of seven, Jun was consumed by the heroic quests and strong characters from the cartoons that played on the TV. As she held onto a small sliver of hope that she would soon be able to leave and go on her own adventure some day, the child’s wild mind also began to imagine the staff as her captors, caging her and stopping her from her dreams. And so, by following her favorite cartoon’s guidance, the much too rich little one paid everyone to leave. Only the chauffeur had decided to stay, insisting that he could never leave a child all alone like that, when no one else seemed to mind as they left, pockets full of cabbage.

Along with her chauffeur, Jun began to do things that adults did. Dressed in all black, she would go out to buy her groceries, cook her own meals—and her kind friend the chauffeur’s too of course—and she would also march off to the library, spending countless hours reading books, that even the old man who drove her around everywhere couldn’t read.

After what seems like hours of her reliving memories of herself and the old man sharing joyful lunches, the sky had already begin to set and the peaceful atmosphere is broken by a rough voice, calling for her to come downstairs.

Jun pushes herself off the bed, taking a deep breath to try and calm herself. Meeting strangers is always too hard for her.

The minuscule girl timidly opens the door, peeking out to check if anyone was there, before heading down the stairs with the sound of, what sounds like bickering married couples, growing louder and louder with each step.

Quietly, the girl shyly pokes her head out from behind the stair railings because that’s all she can really hide behind.

Jun doesn’t really know what to think when she sees a skinny, young man with silver hair screaming beastly as he straddles, an even younger, male who seemed to be enjoying himself. Or when she spots a familiar mint lump of hair scolding—she questions if that was correct because she was unsure with all the screaming—two other males, one considerably shorter than the other. The innocent girl watches the whole scene play out in front of her with wide eyes, uncertain of what was happening and whether or not she should speak up.

“...e-excuse me...?” she calls out, trying her best to look transparent—or preferably, completely evaporate from that room—strangers always scared her. Jun truly doesn’t have a clue how she’s going to survive in the same house as these people. No one seems to hear her as the group of wild boys continued their savage and primitive behaviour.

When they don’t reply to her and just keep fighting, she doesn’t know what to do. Is being alone forever my destiny? she dramatically thinks as she stands behind the railings, now relaxed, realizing that nothing dangerous is going to happen to her. Or maybe I’m just a ghost, like Casper! Maybe they will start walking right through me and I’m actually invisible, her wild imagination spirals out of control as endless possibilities and different theories emerge from the depths of her youthful mentality.

Then, she gets an idea—something she’s read in a book or watched on TV, Jun can’t remember—but as she scans the room and immediately spots what she’s looking for on the wall parallel from her. The light switch is covered in something green and visibly sticky, and the girl doesn’t want to touch it, yet she does.

The clicking of the lights being turned off is the last thing audible in the house before a long moment of silence. The men freeze. Jun lets out a sigh of relief.

And after that, the place becomes absolutely still.

Everything is dark and quiet and weird, and Jun is left alone with her feelings and thoughts - she can’t see, still she’s sure the men are exchanging confused looks. That moment lasts too long, letting Jun notice many small unimportant details—the walls are painted really roughly because nothing in this house is neat, and there is a handprint with noodles stuck to the window, a poor fly repeatedly hitting the window glass, hopelessly trying to get outside, buzzing. Then, someone decides to stop the painful, awkwardness.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Jun doesn’t need to know who said that to feel grateful and flip the switch again. The lights , causing multiple people to groan, rubbing their eyes to adjust to the brightness.

“Man, what was that?” murmurs of confusion began to fill the room. The room fills with voices, and everybody is staring at her, and she suddenly feels like that fly. Jun doesn’t like it here. She doesn’t belong.

Jun gulps, faces them, reminding herself of all the characters in her favorite cartoons that had to fight the evil. She’s brave just like them and she could handle this, right? Right?

“Oh, guys, yes,” the mint haired guy nonchalantly says and they all turn to listen. Is he the leader here? she wonders. “This is the kid, she’ll live with us and all that. Jen, right?”

“Jun,” she corrects quietly, not even sure if everybody else heard her because no, she is not brave, she is trembling with tears in her eyes and a strong urge to run away. Jun feels the need to say something else—introduce herself better or maybe look friendlier so that they won’t kick her out—but for some reason, she can’t force herself to open . Instead, she thinks about how this as well could be the last circle of hell in Dante’s Inferno.

After another awkward pause, the mint haired man adds, “By the way, I’m Namjoon but you can also hear others call me Rap Monster.”

Following their leader, everybody in the room says their name and/or their preferred nickname, which Jun doesn’t even try to memorize. Soon enough, they all quickly find some lousy excuse to leave the house, leaving the unlucky one to look after the young girl.

Jun stares at the tall, blonde male. He had broad shoulders but he always seemed to have a defensive posture. He watches the harmless girl with wide, alert eyes. As the others had left him behind, Jun heard many of them refer to him as Jin. Maybe Jin will be nicer than the other brutes, she hopes.

“I-”

The tall man screamed, acquiring a high pitch that even shocked Jun, stumbling away from the child and rounded the corner around the stairs. The sound of the basement door slamming echoes throughout the whole house.

Jun sighs—relief or disappointment, she couldn’t tell—and inspects the house again but this time with a more determined shine in her eyes.

The cameras seemed to follow her every movement as she finds herself some rubber gloves and a box full of garbage bags.