He remembered. The memory was foggy, dull and gloomy as if he was looking through frosted glass. The sky was a dull gray, the grass a bland green; he knew it was supposed to be a sunny summer afternoon, but he just couldn’t remember what everything looked like. He had run out to play; his mother was busy. She was always busy with his big brother. She forgot about him all the time, would only remember to get him when it was time for dinner. He brought his little soccer ball his father had given him before leaving forever. There were no other kids on the block, or maybe there were. He couldn’t remember anymore. He couldn’t remember the sounds or smells, the memory of him kicking the little ball around in the street a silent, tasteless memory.  

What he did remember was kicking the ball into the yard of the scary house all the big kids told him was haunted. He didn’t know what haunted meant, but when he saw all the kids too scared to go near it, he knew it was bad. He was scared to go get his ball, but that was the only gift he ever got from his daddy. He tentatively stepped onto the mushy, bland green grass, checking the windows every couple seconds as he quickly ran over to go get his ball.  

He had just picked up the ball when the door opened, and he remembered dropping it in shock. The ball squished at his feet—it had rained the night before, so the ground was squishy and muddy from the rain. The mud splashed his sneakers, and when the woman at the door smiled down at him he fell on his in fear. The big kids had said she was a witch and a ghost, that she ate little kids like him for dinner. He trembled when she walked towards him, his legs feeling like jelly. When she stopped in front of him, he quickly grabbed the ball and clutched it to his chest.  

His daddy had given that to him. He wouldn’t let any mean witch take it from him.  

“Are you lost, little one?” she asked, and when she was up close he saw that she looked like his mother. She was very pretty. He always thought his mother was pretty. When he didn’t answer, her eyes trailed down to the ball in his hands, and he gripped it closer to his chest. He wouldn’t let her touch it. She chuckled. “Is that your ball?” 

“Y-yes,” he snapped, trying to sound manly and tough like his big brother, though all he managed to do was squeak like a mouse. She smiled again, tilting her head as she looked him up and down.  

“You’re getting yourself all dirty sitting in the mud like that. Why don’t you come inside and clean off? I have some cookies that I made for my daughter. You can have some.”  

“M-my mommy says I shouldn’t go near strangers.”  

Her smile widened, and it was the one thing that was bright and clear in his otherwise foggy memory. Compared to the dull, gloomy color that covered everything, her smile was so bright and prominent. “But look at yourself, you’re so dirty. You don’t want your mommy to see you like this.” He looked down at himself and saw his white pants painted with mud, and he just knew his mother would be so mad at him. She hated when he did anything outside and got dirty, yelling at him for making her clean his clothes. He looked up at the witch lady, his chubby little fingers squeezing his precious ball.  

His daddy used to take him out for ice-cream when his mother yelled at him. He wished his daddy was here now.  

“O-okay,” he said eventually, letting the witch lady help him up. She held him by the hand as she led him inside the house, and he turned his head to look outside one last time. He never knew that would be the last time he would see the outside, the last time he would feel the sun shine on him and feel the wetness of the grass on his skin. He wished his memory was clearer, so he could feel that again.  

“What’s your name?” she asked as she placed a plate of cookies down in front of him, smiling still as she pulled off his pants to wash them. He nibbled on a cookie as he held the ball in his lap, his cheeks flushed.  

“Lee Hong-bin.”  

“Well, hello Hong-binnie. How old are you?” 

“I’m four.” She looked up at him and smiled again, and he liked her smiles. His mother didn’t smile much, was always so busy with his brother. She smiled at his brother. Not him.  

“My daughter is two, you’re pretty close to her age. Why don’t you play with her? You can go to her room.” His stomach didn’t feel so good at the sound of that, the cookie in his hand suddenly not so good anymore. He clenched his toes, his feet unable to reach the floor, as he wondered how to leave. She still had his pants, and he was scared of saying anything bad to the witch lady. Even if she smiled, he remembered all the bad things the big kids said.  

“I…I want to go home.”  

Her smile vanished, and he dropped his cookie at the sight. “What do you mean you want to go home? You just got here. You haven’t even seen my daughter yet. Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I want to go home,” he repeated, starting to cry at how scared he was getting. The witch lady stood up and threw his pants to the floor, stalking over to him and grabbing his arm and yanking him to his feet. The sudden movement shook him and his ball flew out of his hands. He cried out as he tried to grab it, but she held him so tightly he couldn’t. He was crying, begging her to let him go, and he had no idea that this would be something he would be doing for the rest of his life.  

“I said, you’re going to play with my daughter.” She started dragging him down the hall, and even though he scratched at her hand and screamed, she wouldn’t let go. She opened a door at the end of the hallway, and he could see a little girl sitting on the bed. She sat up at the sound of them coming in, her big eyes looking at him curiously. He hushed up immediately, suddenly embarrassed to have the girl looking at him crying without pants.  

“This is my daughter, Saet-byul,” the witch lady said, pushing him forward, her voice nice again. “Play with her.”  

“I don’t want to,” he whimpered.  

She spanked him hard at his retort, pulled him forward until he stood right in front of the girl. Saet-byul blinked at him, unafraid as she watched him. He was crying still, gasping in between sobs, and the witch lady shoved his head roughly. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, remembered how Saet-byul just sat there and watched him. The witch lady stood behind him, waited, snapping at him to play—he didn’t know what he was supposed to play! Eventually Saet-byul moved, reached her hand out curiously to touch his cheek. He reacted, did the only thing he could think of.  

He slapped her away.  

She started crying, her eyes filling with tears as her big cheeks puffed up. The witch lady screamed, slapping his head so hard his neck snapped forward and he banged his head against the bed. “How dare you hit her! How dare you even touch her! You unworthy child!”  

“I’m sorry!” he cried, his whole head spinning and he just wanted his daddy.  

“You useless child, I should have known better-” Saet-byul was still crying, her sobs so loud, and as the witch lady dragged him to the basement, Saet-byul’s cries were the only thing he could hear in his head.  

She took him down to the basement and threw him in a cage, the whole front glass shattered with only sharp fragments sticking up. He cried, cried so loud, and nearly jumped out of his skin when something moved in the corner, a man’s wide eyes watching him. At the sight of the strange, scary man, his mouth shut tight, trembling when the man moved forward to get a look at him.   

The witch lady laughed. “Hello there, nice to see you too. I’ve brought you a friend.”   

The man crawled forward enough until the chains on his back pulled tight, his hand reaching forward to push his hair away from his face. Immediately his face twisted into a snarl, pulling him into a protective hug as he glared viciously at the witch lady. “The Eun-ji– this is a ing child! Are you kidnapping children now? Dear god, tell me you didn’t do this to him too. Tell me you didn’t turn this little boy into a doll!”   

She scoffed, smirking down at them with her terrible gaze. He clung onto the man’s chest desperately, ignored how he smelled horribly like blood and sweat. “Calm down, he’s not a doll. I don’t know what I was thinking. You dolls are always so ineffective, I guess I thought that if I grabbed one Saet-byul’s age it would work. But the little hit her-” her voice grew hard, her hands gripping the bars of the cage so tight her knuckles turned white, “-he’s lucky I don’t snap his pathetic little neck right now.”  

“Don’t you even dare,” the man snarled, turning slightly to try and hide him from her. “Don’t you dare touch this child.”  

A wide grin grew on her face, her hands relaxing until she pulled away, seemingly in thought. “Alright then, I’ll leave the little beast alone...and I’ll just kill you instead.” The air was so thick, the whole world slowing and the only thing he could see was her slowly walking over to the table in the middle of the room. This memory, he remembered it so well. He could remember every sight, every sound, every smell– he could remember the way the man clung to him, his scent so thick with blood. He remembered the sound of her feet clicking against the cement floor, the light above shining to make her shine like a goddess. The click of the box as she opened it, the sound of metal scrapping as she pulled out a giant needle, the sound of the others in their cages coming out to watch, the feel of the man’s fingers tightening around him– he watched in fascination as she picked up a doll, ran the needle over its body playfully. The man shuddered against him, his hold even tighter, and for just a second, as she lifted the needle up higher and higher, the world stopped.   

The sight of her eyes staring straight at him is something he would never, ever forget.   

And then she stabbed the doll, stabbed it straight into the table, and the sound the man gave was so terrible and blood-curdling. The man shoved him away, withered on the ground as she stabbed him over and over– laughing.   

“Do you see this, little Hong-bin? This is your fault, because of you my precious doll has to be hurt. Do you see what you did?”  

“Stop it Eun-ji!” someone else cried, shaking his chains. She didn’t listen, used her fingers as she ran her nails down its body. Large welts appeared all over the man’s arms and legs; he rolled around in pain, thrashing and screaming, and he covered his face to hide. His fault– this man tried to save him and now he was being hurt because of him.   

“This is all your fault! You did this! Look at what you did!”  

“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” he yelled as loud as he could, blinking when the man’s screams and the witch lady’s laughs abruptly stopped. It was so quiet, the man gasping and coughing as he lay on the ground, his chest heaving. And then she laughed, a different laugh, was so excited at the sound of his pleading. It wasn’t until years later that he found out it absolutely delighted her when he would cut and hurt himself.   

As the years passed, he forgot what his life was like outside of the basement. He forgot that there was a thing called the sky, what grass was, what a smile was. He couldn’t remember what his family looked like, if he even had a family– sometimes he wondered if he was born here. The man that shared the cell with him, his name was Joong. Joong tried his best to protect him, would willingly protect him whenever she wanted to hurt him. It was when he one day swiped at her and hit her that she called his name, called him and forced him to become a true doll.   

She eventually killed him.

Chun-pyeo was his next cellmate, and it was when she would torture him that he realized he could cut himself on the glass to make her happy. She called him Bin then, came over and his head. Cute little Binnie, she would call him. He asked Chun-pyeo if Bin was his name, he didn’t remember, and he remembered the sad, pitiful look the other sent him. He wondered why, didn’t understand. He still doesn’t understand.   

Chun-pyeo made an effort to call him Bin whenever he could, told Bin to say it as much as he could so he would never forget. Bin. Bin Bin Bin Bin– he said it so much that everyone started calling him it, so that no one would let him forget. He liked the sound; it was his. Bin was his name, his name alone. He wouldn’t let her take it from him. He had always wanted a name, but she would never give him one. Said he didn’t deserve one.   

Chun-pyeo was a daddy, he said. Had a little girl that was a few years younger than Bin, not that Bin would know. Bin didn’t know how old he was. Whenever she wasn’t there, he would rip off a piece of his shirt and wrap up Bin’s arms. He tried to tell Bin not to cut himself, that he shouldn’t hurt himself like this, but Bin had to. It was Bin’s fault; she would punish dolls because Bin was bad. Bin was never really sure what he did wrong, he just knew he was. She once said that his entire existence was wrong, that just being there was enough for her to kill every one of her dolls. But then she would shush him when he cried, would wipe his tears and squish his cheeks; she would tell Bin that he was her precious little Binnie. She loved the terrified look on his face, said he looked the most beautiful when he cried, would tell him how happy it made her to see him hurting. It confused him, he never knew when she was angry or happy to see him, when she wanted him in pain or healing; he could only believe what he could understand.

So even though Chun-pyeo and the other dolls told him she was wrong, and that Bin did nothing wrong, he still cut himself and begged to stop her.   

Chun-pyeo would tell him stories, would rock him in his arms and sing him songs. Bin one time asked if his daddy ever sang to him, and Chun-pyeo smiled down at him and said of course. Of course Bin’s daddy would have sung to him. Bin’s daddy must have loved him a lot, and must be so sad that he disappeared. Bin wasn’t so sure, wasn’t so sure he believed that, but he liked to pretend. He sometimes liked to pretend Chun-pyeo was his daddy.   

The other dolls liked to talk to him too, would tell him stories of the outside world. Would tell him about things that Bin would have liked; amusement parks, cotton candy, the beach– they liked to tell him things. He was always so fascinated with it, but he never knew how to imagine what it was supposed to look like. So he could only listen.   

But one day Chun-pyeo grew sick, his voice gone and couldn’t sing him songs. He could barely hold Bin. The others told him he had to do something, that there must be something in her torture box that could help. They really didn’t care whether Chun-pyeo died or not, but they didn’t like seeing Bin cry. So, even though Bin was terrified and his legs felt like jelly as he stood up, he crawled over the broken glass and ran over to the torture box. The others tried to help, told him what to look for, but Bin couldn’t read. He couldn’t read the bottles or see what they were.   

She found him like that, came downstairs to see bottles of pills in his hands. He had never seen her so angry than then. She beat him so badly he couldn’t see for weeks, his body so tired and sore. She broke Chun-pyeo, did something to him so he didn’t talk anymore. She moved him to a new cage. She choked Bin, beat him so badly and said how bad he was, that there was no way he could ever make up for what he did. She was so angry she pierced holes in his back and strung him up like everyone else. It hurt so, so bad. He cried and cried, couldn’t reach the glass anymore to beg.   

The others were so sorry, tried to apologize to Bin for making him do that. But it didn’t matter what Bin said– it was Bin’s fault she broke Chun-pyeo, his fault that she chained him, his fault that she was always so angry. He stayed far away from his cellmates after that, wouldn’t talk to them. The only time he spoke would be to beg and cry. She eventually made his chains longer so he could reach the glass. She liked seeing him hurt himself, loved seeing the blood that would run down his arms. Soon it didn’t even hurt anymore, was just a reflex, something he did. When the others started appearing– Jong-in first, then Kyung-soo, Chan-yeol, Baek-hyun, Joon-myeon...they would tell him not to. Told him they could handle whatever she did to them.   

But Bin didn’t stop.  

He didn’t stop until Seok-jin.   

Seok-jin cursed a lot. That was the first thing he thought when his newest cellmate woke up, shouting and confused until he saw Bin. He yelled at Bin at first, cursed at him as he asked where he was. The others defended him, scolded him viciously for yelling at Bin. Bin didn’t answer, didn’t know how to answer, and just stared at him. But Bin wasn’t able to say anything to him, Seok-jin was special, would be taken up to see Saet-byul. It wasn’t until Seok-jin came back down cursing and angry about seeing Hak-yeon upstairs that he talked to Bin.  

“Hak-yeon hyung doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be something as ed up as this.”  

Bin was curious, was so curious about this Hak-yeon that Seok-jin always talked about. His brother. He didn’t know what a brother was, but it sounded amazing. “H-Hak-yeon hyung...” he stuttered out, the first thing he ever said to Seok-jin, his voice hoarse and rough, “W-what is Hak-yeon h-hyung like?” 

Seok-jin paused, and then smiled, looking so happy to be able to tell someone about Hak-yeon. He told Bin everything, about how much of a pain in the Hak-yeon was, how he always nagged him and talked about how terrible Seok-jin’s friends were. Seok-jin went on and on about how annoying he was, how he hated him and wished he would just leave him alone. Ignore Seok-jin so that he could run away and leave his old life behind without regrets. Bin frowned, feeling from the way Seok-jin spoke that Hak-yeon was not a good person. But then Seok-jin smiled, a smile he hadn’t seen since Chun-pyeo would rock and sing him to sleep.  

But Hak-yeon would make sure he came home safely, would always have dinner ready for him when their mother was out working late. Hak-yeon would always ask how he was, make sure to spend time with him, make sure he felt loved. Seok-jin shared a secret with him, told Bin that he really loved Hak-yeon back and wished he had said it before all this happened.  

“I...really do love him,” Seok-jin whispered, eyes full of tears. “He’s so bright and happy, so positive; she’s going to break him and I can’t do anything to help.” Seok-jin wasn’t chained, would sit next to Bin, would lean on Bin, and Bin would always listen. Bin liked to listen, secretly liked to hear about this Hak-yeon. He liked to imagine Hak-yeon was his brother, whenever Seok-jin was asleep he would secretly whisper Hak-yeon’s name on his lips. He liked the way it sounded. He liked to imagine Hak-yeon as someone so big and tall and strong, would come and wrap his arms around Bin like Chun-pyeo used to and protect him. Would protect him like he protected Seok-jin.  

Seok-jin realized Bin liked listening about Hak-yeon, would love to tell him stories. The others would listen sometimes but mostly it was just them. He would tell stories about how Hak-yeon would burst in right before a gang fight to drag him away, of catching him when he tried to skip school and bringing him out to secretly eat ice-cream, of laying across Seok-jin’s bed and complaining about his day, begging for sympathy. He told Bin about putting hair dye in Hak-yeon’s shampoo so it turned gray, about how Hak-yeon only tackled him on the bed and tickled him instead of being angry. As Bin listened, Hak-yeon just seemed more and more amazing. He wanted Hak-yeon, wished he could be Seok-jin and have someone like Hak-yeon.  

“Oh Bing bong, what did you do to yourself?” Seok-jin asked when he came back down, his eyes focused on the chains in Bin’s back and how torn up the surrounding skin was. Bin didn’t care about that, was so happy to see Seok-jin again. She had taken him upstairs and didn’t him bring him down for a long time, and Bin had been scared she killed him. Bin had been so worried, tried to climb out of his cage to save him even though it tore and hurt his back so bad.  

Seok-jin went to Bin’s side and poked at the swollen tissue, sighing as he worked to clean off the dried blood. “What did I tell you about hurting yourself?” 

“B-Bin was scared,” he said, trying to turn around to look at Seok-jin, though the other held him fast. “B-Bin thought...Bin thought-” he stopped when Seok-jin placed his hands on Bin’s shoulders, started to gently massage his neck and shoulders. He continued, his voice lower as a small moan escaped his lips. “Bin thought she killed Seok-jin.” 

“No, she didn’t kill me,” he said, his thumb pressing into Bin’s back. He shivered; it felt so good. “She had to go somewhere, so she brought me up to keep Hak-yeon hyung and Saet-byul company.”  

Bin whirled around in surprise, asking excitedly, “You saw Hak-yeon hyung?”  

“Yes,” he laughed, shifting him back so he could continue to massage his shoulders. “They go to school now though, so I sat by myself a lot. I wish I could have come back down, I don’t like leaving you here alone.” Bin looked back to see Seok-jin looking so upset, and he felt bad for making Seok-jin unhappy. Seok-jin noticed. “Hey, it’s not your fault Bing bong,” he said sternly, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Saet-byul hurt hyung, but he went crawling back to her because of that ing doll. I can see him changing, but I can’t say anything.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bin apologized, rubbing his wrists. He was too far from the glass, couldn’t cut himself to make Seok-jin feel better.  

“Stop that,” Seok-jin reprimanded, ripping Bin’s hands apart. “I told you not to do that anymore. But it’s okay, I’m going to protect Hak-yeon hyung. I’ll do whatever I can to keep him from being whatever doll he’s supposed to be.” He didn’t say anything for a long while, his face so serious, when suddenly he dropped his hands to Bin’s sides, tickling him until Bin snorted with laughter. “Hey, do you wanna hear where we went while I was up?” 

He liked Seok-jin. Bin really, really liked Seok-jin. Bin didn’t know what he had done for her to punish Seok-jin, to take him away and never bring him back. But one day she took Seok-jin up and never brought him back down. If Bin had known, he would have said goodbye, would have told Seok-jin how much he liked him. He would have said something so that Seok-jin’s last words to him weren’t, ‘I’ll be back soon, Bing bong.”  

Hak-yeon was every bit as amazing as Seok-jin said he was. Hak-yeon protected him when she tried to hurt Bin, would smile and reassure Bin even when she punched holes down his arms and strung him up. Bin cried harder than he ever did then, did whatever he could to help Hak-yeon. It didn’t work, she hated Hak-yeon and was going to kill him, and no matter how much Bin cried she didn’t care. Even then Hak-yeon would say things to make Bin feel better, would smile and reassure him and tell him not to worry. Bin loved Hak-yeon, craved his smiles and the sound of his voice. Every time he woke up from nightmares Hak-yeon would hug him the best he could, his arms bleeding whenever he tried to move them too much.

Bin loved Hak-yeon so, so much.

He clung onto Hak-yeon the moment they were free, never wanting to let him go. When Hak-yeon was sick in bed healing, Bin protected him, wouldn’t let anyone come close. No one was allowed to touch or talk to him, no one could even look at him. Hak-yeon became the only one in Bin’s life, the only one Bin wanted and loved, the only one Bin would follow wherever he went. He wanted to live with Hak-yeon alone, away from the world where no one could hurt Hak-yeon and they would be safe. He didn’t want to stay with Taek-woon, hated being with parents, never understanding what parents were—but Hak-yeon wanted to, so Bin followed.

When Hak-yeon started getting sick and quiet, Bin did his best to protect him, would keep Taek-woon away. Even then Hak-yeon still protected him, still loved him, and Bin was the happiest he had ever been.

But then everything became confusing. When Hak-yeon started having times when he would scream and be in so much pain and would push Bin away, Taek-woon would take care of Bin. He would take care of Bin like Hak-yeon did, was so strong and quiet and soft. Bin didn’t like it at first, it confused him. But one day he found himself so happy to see Taek-woon, would love his hugs too, wanted to be just like him for Hak-yeon. Soon he had friends, the word still weird on his lips and hard to understand. Jae-hwan announced that they were friends, that he and Won-shik were Bin’s friends. He would teach Bin games and play with him, would smile and say things that would make Bin laugh.

Bin had been so happy.

Looking back, that happy time felt almost like a dream, like a long dream after he lost a lot of blood and was sleepy all the time. He had never really known what happy was, was only just starting to learn it when he lived with Hak-yeon and Taek-woon. Bin had miserable for so long, had only known pain and fear for so long, that when he ended up back in the basement, he wasn’t confused. He wasn’t surprised. He expected it. Being hated, being blamed, it was something he understood, something he knew.

He was always hated, always blamed.

It was always his fault.

“You’re not a doll.”

Bin wanted to be confused, wanted to cry out how he had to be a doll, how he had been locked up here for so long that he just had to be. Everyone was a doll. He had to be a doll. But he wasn’t. In his cloudy, muddled mind that refused to understand anything, that was clear. He wasn’t a doll.

It actually made sense to Bin. She never touched his doll, never showed it or laughed at him as she tore it apart. She only made him watch, only hit him when he was bad. He couldn’t remember her ever making one for him, despite having so many times to take his hair and collect the blood he always willingly spilt. But then he couldn’t remember a lot of things. He had always just assumed he was one, that that had to be the reason why she kept him locked up and enjoyed torturing the others in front of him.

So when everyone stared at him in shock, when Jae-hwan started crying and Saet-byul screamed in frustration, he just sat there calmly, nursing his throbbing, cold arms. He wasn’t a doll.

He was just Bin.

There was nothing wrong with him loving Hak-yeon, loving Taek-woon, of being friends with Jae-hwan, Won-shik, or even Sang-hyuk. He could love whoever Bin wanted, could do whatever Bin wanted—they never could tell Bin what he could do. He thought back to Chun-pyeo, to Seok-jin, to Hak-yeon; he shivered. He wasn’t a doll. He wasn’t owned. He didn’t belong to anyone. He didn’t belong to her, to Saet-byul, or to anyone.

He was just Bin.