Dear Journal,

It's been a while since I've written in here. Too long, to be quite honest. I've been trapped inside of a hellhole that that deranged man, Ben, kept me in for months.

Four, I've just counted. 

Ben is dead, though. I found him on the floor, being eaten alive by some cannibalistic, psycho thing. His grey beard was torn off of his wrinkly face, and his cold brown eyes were all closed up. His brown hair lay messily atop his head, his bald spot just-a-shining away. 

The creature looked oddly normal, but when it stood, its eyes were the eeriest silver-blue I had ever seen. It shuffled towards me, and I didn't know what to do, so I ran. I ran into the kitchen, and it followed me, strangled noises leaving its mouth. I grabbed one of those fancy Paula Deen kitchen knives Ben kept for me to cook him dinner with, and stabbed that thing right in its temple. It fell right over and hit the floor with a big thump. 

I checked the date and clock, too. I was in here during my birthday, locked away in the cellar I resided in. Woohoo, happy late twenty-third birthday to me. I still have faint bruises along my arms from when Ben hit me the other day.

I wonder where my Daddy and Mama are - if they're okay. 

I changed into some black pants and a grey shirt I found earlier. I managed to scrounge up a pair of Ben's old boots, too. 

I tried calling the police, but the phone line was disconnected. 

Help, I wanted to scream into it. Mary Louise is alive, and she needs to get out of here.

I turned on the television, which thankfully worked. A short, plump woman with a brown bob and heaps of red lipstick popped onto the screen, her face up close. She was talking about diseases and infestations, and gunshots could be heard in the background. I don't know what was happening, but another one of those flesh-eaters waltzed right onto the screen and began tearing the poor woman's face right off. The camera man ran, and the television disconnected, too.

I cleaned up a bit. I brushed my hair and found that my blue eyes were now a deep grey. My face was sunken in, and my hair was a mess. I combed it out and tied the red rat's nest right into one of my signature dutch braids.

I was so stupid, today. I acted as if I hadn't just seen two people being eaten alive, and like my kidnapper's dead body wasn't lying on the floor of his living room. I made myself a sandwich.

I can hear some more of those weird noises, and I think those flesh-eaters multiplied or something. I don't know, but I just locked myself in the bathroom with one of Ben's rifles. 

Clearly, something isn't right in the world. I bet other people are thinking the same thing as me. All I know is that I want to get home and be with my family. I want to jump right into my boyfriend Cole's arms and hug the life out of that man. I want to cradle my baby cousin and make food for my grandma.

They're banging on the door now. I'll probably try to head home tomorrow. For now . . . For now I'm going to try to make it out of this place without dying.

Good luck?

Thanks.

Sincerely,

Mary Louise Calbright

Ms. Darren spooned a helping of the orange, cylinder-shaped food into a blue bowl. She followed suit with two others and placed them in their respective places along the kitchen island. The two rambunctious teenagers waited patiently, though they fidgeted on the inside, and their mouths watered at the smell filling their senses.

"What is this?" Jaekuk asked, looking up curiously. He raised an eyebrow as he looked over the food once more, confused.

"It's called macaroni," Claire explained, leaving the area and quickly returning with three forks. Emily nodded, and Jaekuk stared down at the food, still a bit confused.

"It's made of cheese and noodles," Emily said. She picked up her fork, and Jaekuk watched her before copying her movements carefully. He had used forks in his home country occasionally, but not very often. He wasn't very good with the utensil, and he also had no idea what the Darren's dinner customs might be. 

Nonetheless, Emily scooped a small forkful of the food into her mouth. The warmth filled her taste buds, and she sighed happily. Jaekuk copied his movements, silently thanking whomever must have been watching down on him when he managed to not drop the food onto his lap. The group ate happily and in silence, enjoying their meal and occasionally stopping to take a sip of their tea. 

"Emily, would you like to help Jaekuk unpack his bedroom when you're both finished?" 

Both of the teenager's head snapped up from devouring their meal. Emily frowned slightly, and Ms. Darren shot her a warning look. Much to Emily's dismay, she agreed quietly. She had planned on studying for her upcoming Italian test, but now she had to help this odd foreign boy unpack to live inside of her home.

The whole idea was confusing to Emily, and very strange. Never had she imagined she would be housing a boy from a completely different country, and never had she imagined someone would speak English as fluently as he did, but not know what macaroni was.

Jeez, she thought to herself. If he wanted to come here, it would have been helpful for him to get to know the foods we have here, seeing that kimchi or whatever isn't very common.

As they finished, Emily directed Jaekuk on where to set his bowl. She quickly rinsed them and placed them inside of their dishwasher. When she turned back to him, he was looking around the room curiously. That's all he had seemed to be ever since they arrived home - curious. He didn't seem so perplexed by anything in the school building, or the students, at that. Emily knew that the people here must be highly different from where Jaekuk is from if boys his age comfortably dressed the way he did. 

"Come on," the girl demanded. She began leaving the kitchen, and a slight pause followed before Jaekuk stumbled after, jogging a few feet to catch up to the fast-paced girl. They walked up the white-carpeted staircase and into the long hallway that separated the rooms of the house. 

The walls were a pale turquoise, something that Emily had insisted would look beautiful with the carpet, and her mother had agreed after three days of consistent pleading. It had turned out quite well, and Emily was proud that she had been right.

The first door on the left belonged to Ms. Darren's room. The second on the right was Emily's, and the first on the right would be Jaekuk's temporary residence. The second door on the right was a bathroom, and next to it was a second smaller bathroom that Ms. Darren had allowed Jaekuk to have to himself for privacy reasons. 

Emily opened the door to Jaekuk's room and stepped inside, nearly blinded by the aesthetically-pleasing room. She turned back to the boy who shrugged. 

"I didn't have much time to decorate," he said. He shuffled over to his bed where a large, brown cardboard box sat. He opened it with large, careful hands, pushing the flaps to the side. Jaekuk dug his hand into the box, and soon pulled out a large quilt.

He had to step back to fully remove the blanket, seeing how long it was and that it had unfolded in the flight here. It was a grey comforter with multiple random patches along the blanket. One in particular caught Emily's eye.

"The Bangtan Boys?" She questioned, her eyes drifting over the black patch. Jaekuk looked up immediately, a large grin across his angelic features.

"You know them?" He asked.

"They're practically my life," Emily said, shaking her head with a small grin. "I have so much merchandise it's unreal."

"Same here. Who's your bias?"

"Seokjin."

"I should have known - you seem like a Jin type of girl. Mine is Jungkook, though Jimin can make me question my sanity."

"You're gay?"

"No," Jaekuk said, laughing. "I'm in fact straight."

"Oh," Emily said, not even slightly embarrassed. She nodded her head, feeling informed. "You just dress more . . . flamboyant than other boys I've seen," Emily added, explaining herself.

"We're only fourteen, I didn't think I needed to start dressing like a grandfather to get a girlfriend. Do you?"

"So you're looking for a girlfriend?"

"That depends. Are you looking for a boyfriend?"

"No, but I think those girls at school with the straight, bleached hair and short skirts might be. You should try them out for size; good measure."

"Aren't you something special," Jaekuk said, not really asking anything. He was just stating what he thought, and Emily looked taken aback. Her reaction was overall surprise. Most boys hated her sarcasm and witty comebacks; boys would just rather have bubbly girls who giggled and didn't say anything or share their opinion whatsoever.

"I beg to differ."

"Begging isn't necessary."

"So, is there a specific reason the United States wants their students to be bilingual?"

"They want us to seem smart," Emily said, guiding the boy to his locker. It was next to hers, which she was sure her mother had arranged. She scoffed quietly at the thought.

"Ah," Jaekuk said, nodding with a grin. "I see. Has that worked yet?"

"No," Emily responded, expressionless. "We're all still illiterate, and it's not like the classes matter to anyone because no one pays attention in them anyways."

"You don't pay attention in class?" Jaekuk asked. They approached their lockers, and Emily raised an eyebrow. His accent shone through his voice only slightly, presenting his race authentically. Emily shook her head, pointing to the locker that was assigned to him. 

"Mi scusi, faccio attenzione in classe," Emily said, a slightly-offended tone taking over her voice. Jaekuk smiled, turning to enter his combination in his locker. "Perdonami, io devo essere scambiato," he replied, opening the locker on the first try. Emily grinned, turning to face the boy. A skeptical look flashed across her face as she opened her locker, placing her Mathematics binder inside of the metal rectangular prism.

"You can take Italian in Korea?" She asked, removing her ironically-necessary language binder. 

"No, I learnt it on my own. I learned English in Korea," he explained, following suit. He took out his Language Arts binder, a pastel blue color, and grabbed his silver, patch-decorated pencil pouch back from it's resting place on the top shelf. "This locker is boring," Jaekuk commented, glancing over it. 

"It doesn't suit your . . . style," Emily agreed. Jaekuk laughed quietly. "Don't worry, it'll be covered in decorations in the next few weeks." Emily nodded.

"Language Arts is down the E hallway, third door on your right," Emily explained, pointing down the student-swarmed hallway. Jaekuk furrowed his eyebrows, confirming his understanding with a bob of his head. A strand of dusty-rose hair fell into his face, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Got it . . ." He said, his voice trailing off as he located the room with his gaze. With a swift movement, Jaekuk shut his locker door, and Emily watched him mumble a small goodbye. She watched his body fidget forward, as though he intended to bow. However, he didn't and turned, covering his blushing cheeks as he sped off. Emily shook her head, slightly confused. He hadn't done such a thing earlier this morning, so she wondered why he felt the need to do so now.

Emily turned the opposite direction and made her way down the hallway after shutting her locker. She brushed shoulders with a few girls whom only looked at her, some disgusted, others seeming jealous. Emily automatically knew why; Jaekuk wasn't something normally seen around here, and she also knew it interested the other girls. It didn't affect Emily, as all she needed to do, and wanted to do, was study and maintain good grades for a nice college, for a nice job. She smiled as her mind wandered over the plan, confirming it as though she hadn't hundreds of times before.

Yes, she thought. Just my education.

Two days flew by rather quickly, and Emily was unaware at what time she was to meet this Jaekuk, or when he was supposed to arrive, or where. The subject hadn't brought up much, other than when Ms. Darren asked Emily to help her set up the boy a space in their guest bedroom. It had white walls, a white twin-sized bed, a brown dresser, a desk that they had found on sale at Ikea, a matching chair, and a carpet. The two windows were covered by a set of white drapes.

Ms. Darren found it necessary to leave the boy space for him to decorate the area and make it more comfortable for himself. Her mother had also failed to mention how long this boy would be staying.

Emily was now, yet again, in her AP Algebra class. She was flipping through the pages of her binder, concentration building up in her expression as she eyed the given equation intensely. They were supposed to try to finish it first, and whoever was the first to give the correct answer got out of class three minutes early.

The door swung open, and shuffling could be heard. Most students turned in their seats, but Emily was far too concerned with the problem set before her . . . She was absorbed in her work. That was, until her mother called attention to the class.

"Alright, I appreciate all of your hard work, but you're going to have to look up now. We have some very exciting news."

Emily didn't pay much attention, and kept solving firmly.

"Emily," Ms. Darren repeated. Emily's head snapped upwards, and her mother nodded once.

"We have a new student; he has traveled all the way from South Korea and will be staying with us for the rest of the year - five months," Ms. Darren explained softly. The students gawked; obviously, the boy had caught their attention rather quickly. Emily looked him over, confusion filling her once-sure expression.

He had dusty pink hair and pale skin. His lips were a gradient coloring - from a light pink to a natural coloring. His cheeks had a natural flush to them, and a large, perfect smile filled his face. His eyes were a deep brown, large and round with the traditional shape that Emily had expected. His hands were fairly large, folded in front of the black and white striped, Peanut (from Charlie Brown) sweater. He wore light blue skinny jeans, and grey high-top converse. He was fairly average in height for his age - reaching about five feet and eight inches in height.

"Hello," he said. Emily blinked in surprise. His voice held only the faintest sounding of an accent, and his voice was rather deep compared to what she was used to the boys in her grade producing. "I am Kim Jaekuk."

"So your name is Jaekuk?" A short blonde with a high-pitched voice asked, her voice calling from the back of the room. Jaekuk turned in her direction, nodding once. He flashed a dimpled grin, and the girls giggled wildly. Emily sighed, turning back to her work. She picked up her pencil. Many students followed suit.

"Alright then," Ms. Darren said. She looked about the room, and pointed to the empty seat beside Emily, who was unaware. "You can sit there, by Emily. I'll get you a set of the workbook papers." Jaekuk smiled, thanking the woman. He shuffled quickly over to the seat, his face flushing lightly at the consistent stares he was receiving. He sat down quietly and opened his AP Algebra binder, which was covered in various stickers ranging from video games to events he had attended - it wasn't the neatest, to say the least.

Emily glanced over at him, looking him over quickly. Jaekuk caught her gaze, and his face burst into another one of his seemingly always-there smiles. Emily sighed quietly as Ms. Darren set the workbook in front of Jaekuk. She gave Emily a specific look, and the girl nodded once. She stood up out of her desk and walked over to the boy, opening his book. Her mother walked to the door to discuss something with their principal, the one who had brought Jaekuk to the classroom.

"We're studying nonlinear functions," she said quietly. Jaekuk seemed to understand, so she flipped through his book, opening it up to the current section. Emily reached over to her desk, picking up a purple gel pen. She used it to circle the first nine problems, and wrote down what page the lesson summary was on on the top right corner of the page.

"You're the girl whose family I'm staying with, am I correct?" Jaekuk asked. "I recognized your mother," he explained. Emily nodded, lifting her eyebrows and pursing her lips, a small roll passing in her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "But don't call her a mother, it'll make her feel old."

Jaekuk's mouth formed and 'o', and he shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Emily raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged, mainly to herself.

"We go to electives after this. Do you know what class you're going to?" She asked, sitting back down at her desk.

"I have band," he said.

"Me too. I play the clarinet," Emily said, the ends of her lips tilting up lightly. She loved band; it was one of her favorite classes. Music was important to her.

"I play the flute," Jaekuk replied, seeming pleased.

"Alright, students. Let's take a look at problem four. Does anyone know the answer?"

Most of the students stared at the problem, the words jumbling and mixing in their eyesights as they sat with dumbfounded expressions, Emily included. Much to her surprise, Jaekuk's hand raised quickly into the air. Ms. Darren's eyes opened widely, but she called on him, despite the doubt filling her.

"Variable a equals twenty four and ninety-seven hundredths."

"When is he arriving?"

"Who?"

"Jaekuk."

"Excited, are we?"

"Not even close," Emily replied, shuffling around the kitchen. The two were hurrying to get ready for the school day. Emily filled her black and red backpack with school supplies, her mother doing the same to an embroidered, blue tote bag. Clarie placed a gradebook inside and walked over to the black fridge, opening it. She reached inside, grabbed Emily's matching lunch box, and tossed it to the girl. She caught it.

"Thursday," Clarie said, retrieving her own lunch box. 

"Thursday, as in in two days, Thursday?" Emily asked. Her mother looked taken aback, and took a moment to process Emily's confusing sentence. Finally, she nodded firmly. Clarie picked up her blue coffee mug off of the counter, and Emily grabbed her red water bottle, tucking it safely into the pocket of her backpack. 

"I expect you to be polite to him," her mother reminded. 

"I will," Emily confirmed. As the two walked out of their two-story cabin home, Emily looked up at her mother. "What are we even supposed to do together? Oh my gosh, are you trying to get me a boyfriend?"

"Heavens, no," her mother replied, ushering Emily into their white Sedan. Emily hopped rather quickly into the passenger's seat, setting her stuff down. "Well," her mother said as she let out a small grunt, setting her tote bag down in the back seat of the car. "You like that Korean-Pop stuff, don't you?"

Emily rolled her eyes. 

"That's a bit stereotypical, don't you think? To assume he likes K-Pop, I mean."

"You're quite one to talk, Emily."

-

Emily paced quietly down the halls, clutching the black straps to her backpack. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, and she avoided eye contact with anyone in the hallway. Her hands gathered inside of the over-sized grey sweatshirt she wore. The material gathered in the back over to pockets of her black jeans, and her black flats pressed firmly against the ground. 

People payed no attention to the quiet girl, but rather walked passed her, laughing and talking with their friends. Emily payed no mind as she approached her locker. She entered her combination, reciting the numbers in her mind twice just to make sure she knew it. 

45-18-7

Her locker opened immediately, and she hurriedly piled her belongings inside of it. She hung her backpack up on the hook and unzipped her backpack. Her hands fished inside of the bag, eventually pulling out a collection of books. She set them aside, and then she retrieved her circular pencil case. Emily's dark eyes scanned her backpack, finally removing her waterbottle. She clutched it tightly, her eyebrows furrowing together as she thought of her schedule. With a nod and a sudden burst of memory, Emily grabbed her Mathematics binder and textbook, piling her pencil case on top of it soon afterwards. 

Emily loudly shut her locker, and her face immediately flushed as people stopped momentarily to see, and then continued on. Emily shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself. She turned sharply, setting off on her way to hallway five, classroom fourty-one. 

She bit her lip as she walked, avoiding everyone. She didn't like people much, other than her online friends from her penpal and writing websites (that her mother approved of, obviously). Emily clicked her tongue to soothe her pounding heart, the nerves building up inside of her. She scanned the walls, looking for the familiar picture of the teacher on the entrance of the classroom. Upon finding it, Emily sighed in relief and stepped inside, shutting the light brown door behind her. As per usual, she was the first student to arrive. The seats were completely empty, so she rushed to the front, as if someone else might magically appear and take the seat from her. 

"Emily," the teacher greeted. Emily gave a tight smile to her mother, sitting down silently. She opened her binder, separated the rings, and removed her moleskin notebook. Students were beginning to file in, so she got a black gel pen and a pencil ready.

Her mother walked to the front of the classroom, a bright smile on her face. Clarie lifted her hand, signaling for the students to sit down, to which they unhappily obliged. Nonetheless, Clarie's smile did not falter.

"Good morning, students!" She cheerily exclaimed, turning to the whiteboard. She picked up a black dry-erase marker and began to re-write her name.

Ms. Darren

Was quickly and neatly scrawled across the top right corner. Emily opened her notebook and wrote down the date in the first empty page she could find in the chronological order her notes were organized by. The other students followed, a bit slower and less-confident than Emily. But that was just Emily; confident in classroom, but rarely outside of it. 

"Today we will continue with AP Algebra. Now, can anyone tell me their summary of yesterday's lesson?"

Emily's left hand immediately flew up and into the air.

"You are undoubtedly insane, Mother."

"Don't call me that, it makes me feel old," Emily's mother scolded, tapping the young girl's nose twice with a hair comb. Emily scrunched her nose, shaking her head as her mother continued to work on making her dark curls neat and orderly, though they both knew that they would be wild again within an hour of them settling. 

"Mom," Emily rephrased, looking up at her mother suspiciously. "You're insane."

"I am not insane, Emilia," her mother insisted. Emily scoffed, crossing her arms. She fidgeted in the dark wood kitchen table. She picked lightly at her tanned, dark skin. Her brown eyes flashed about, and she pursed her lips just enough to flash a set of unique dimples. "I heard from Clyde -"

"Please don't call my Science teacher by his first name."

"- that we were getting a foreign student from South Korea, but he didn't have a family to stay with, so I offered. You are going to be kind to him, Emily," her mother said, pulling out the last knot in Emily's curls. She lifted a clear jar, and scooped a generous amount of hair smoother into her hands. She rubbed it through her tanned hands, and began kneading her hands through Emily's thick hair.

"I don't like this idea . . . You do know what boys like him expect in a woman, right?" Emily asked, the stereotypical Korean male filling her mind. She rolled her eyes, shuddering in exaggeration. 

"And that would be?"

"Pale," Emily explained firmly, glancing up at her mother. Her mother raised an eyebrow, shrugging it off. She ignored Emily persistently, despite the girl's constant begging. Emily's mother, Clarie, was determined to keep the boy over. She had seen photos of him, and thought Emily would instantly find the young boy utterly adorable. Or so she hoped.

Claire knew her daughter could be quite judgmental from time to time, basing people off of rumors and typical beliefs rather than core values, and she tried her best to guide Emily in the right direction. She hoped this boy would carry some of that sense with him, and maybe pass it onto Emily. 

"Emily, don't talk about someone you haven't met like that," Clarie scolded, shaking her head. "You don't even know the poor boy's name."

"Well, you didn't tell me, yet," Emily reminded, sass dripping off of her adolescent voice. Clarie sent her daughter a warning look, and Emily smiled apologetically.

"Kim Jaekuk."

"His name is Kim?"

"Emily, didn't you pay attention to last week's lesson in Ancient History lesson?"

I wait, still as I've ever been.

When are you getting here, my love?

I'm lost, and in trouble.

My mind is in trouble, but I know 

that someone like you could fix it,

couldn't you?

Sometimes it hurts, and then I know 

That you'll never be here . . .

You'll never be here when it snows,

I'll never care for your cold,

or comfort you when our parents

have grown too old

to continue on in this tragic life.

When they're gone,

I'll be alone.

I'll have no one to remind me of you, my love.

Tell me, 

where have you gone?

My eyes drift across the girl's hopeless face. I lift her chin, her eyes meeting mine, and smile, though my own wrist aches for the same treatment her wrists are receiving. The blood spills around her damaged wrists; my art is covered surreptitiously. She smiles back.

"T-thank you - you saved me."

Maybe so, I think. I save everyone, but who saves me?