[ MISSING HOME ] ON HOLD

prologue

The home you used to live in- that terrible place. You didn't like it, you deeply dislike it.

Hatred is a deep word, you can never let that emotion enter your heart. But if it means to belittle that damned house- to let others know that it was so full of shit, then so be it.

That so-called orphanage- the name itself was annoying, a mouthful name, hard to pronounce.

The outside of the house, you never saw it, no one was allowed to. But the inside was suffocating- for an orphanage with the size of a large church, the rooms were cramped and dusty. So cramped.

You can walk around that room for five seconds and you'll already do a full circle- that's how narrow the rooms are. And the thin walls- the walls that were supposed to give everyone privacy- were useless.

Even with a pillow over your head, you can still hear them- cries, sobs, snores, giggles. Even questionable things you don't understand- you do not want to understand.

The only place you like- the place you liked, was the classroom. Every morning and evening, everyone was required to attend and pray, to worship some sort of idol. The end corner of the room- the end corner of the seats beside the window- was the only acceptable place you want to be in besides your bed.

The only window that you know of was locked. Even if it was a barrier between the wretched inside from the outside, you could see through it.

The backyard- oh, god. It was like a cemetery. Many stick-like crucifix sprouted off the ground accompanied by dead grey grass- or is it even grass? Dead thin trees that'll look like it was giving in, and not even a single crunchy leaf can be seen.

It was so gloomy, but whatever the outside has to offer- you'll take it.

And if you reach high enough- if you could stand on a chair and see, across the horizon, was a single tree filled with fresh green leaves. Tall blades of grass with colorful flowers scattered around the plains.

It was so beautiful- you could almost feel the warm sun embracing you- but at last, leaving the house was forbidden.

You can only see a glimpse of it, and you were already satisfied. Knowing that the entire world isn't all dark and grey.

But that's only just the beginning,

And let me tell you, the people in here are awful.

Your caretaker- an old man- his wife- and their two lovely children. They were expected- they think they're needed to be treated like royalty.

It was disgusting.

The children- your roommates- your so-called 'brothers and sisters' were like mindless zombies. Blindly following every rule, every order, every command.

Who would have guessed?

That this orphanage was filled with disciplined and hardworking children?

Filled with only good children.

Or maybe that's what they want you to think?

Because you knew, you damn well know. That every single child that laid their foot here, every young child or old teenager, has gone through immense torture.

Oh, but no! They're not beaten up! They wouldn't dare to give a naughty poor child a little boo-boo!

Because they will. No matter what you have done. No matter what you didn't do. They'll only play nice if they want to. They'll only be a sweet perfect family if they wanted to.

When they scream at you in rage for saying a prayer wrong, when they force you to strip your clothes and hit you because you cannot fulfill your tasks in time, when they grab you by the hair if you make a single mess- it was cruel.

And if they dislike you enough- and if you're disobedient enough, you'll be dragged.

Dragged down under the abyss, straight into an isolated room filled with darkness. Locked away from social interaction. Locked away from people, and everything you needed.

And if they were nice enough- you'll be stuck in a dim room with the freedom to roam around. Unlike the unfortunate ones- forced to be tied around a pole as they limp helplessly- forced to be inside a cramped, locked, dog cage, to be hunched over uncomfortably.

But how did you know all of this?

Of course.

You know all of this.

From experience.

And you were sick of it.

"Y/n, dear. Put that down."

It was funny, how they call you sweet names like they did nothing wrong. How they think they did nothing wrong. Like everything they do was normal.

That everyone in the house thinks- even the children, that everything they do is normal. Like touching a child is okay, like hurting everyone for a single mistake is okay, like locking up someone in a dark room for days is okay.

You were so sick of it.

"Please listen, my child. We can help you, he can help you."

You want it to end.

Your eyes flickered to your hand, an object not-so foreign. You held on it like it was life itself- like it was something so valuable that you're afraid to lose it.

Your thumb slowly hover at the top of the object.

Their arms slowly reached out to you.

Your heartbeat was all you can hear.

It was ironic, really.

How you were in a room filled with gas.

With a lighter in your hands, ready to be used.