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XXI

     It all, ironically, began in a marketplace. Before Seungmin had moved to America, before his life had been turned upside down.

     Seungmin had been skipping along with his dad, elated that he was finally being brought along on his father's tiny errands, ignoring how the latter was definitely in far more of a rush than what Seungmin was allowing him.

     His dad tugged on his sleeve, snapping Seungmin out of his awestruck state as he looked at all the people and stalls bustling around the street. "Kiddo, I'm heading over to car. If you want to look around a little more, I left my briefcase at the fruits vendor. Can you get it for me?"

     Seungmin's jaw dropped at his adult responsibility being being bestowed upon him. "Really!?"

     "You know what it looks like, right?"

     "Yup!"

     "Do you know your way back and forth?"

     Seungmin could only bobble his head back and forth until his neck hurt, too excited for words. Even back then, his body moved faster than his mind. Maybe that was how it had all happened.

     "Okay, go on now."

     Seungmin cheered as he ran through the market, ignoring every odd glance thrown at him. Soon, a shiny briefcase was in his sightline.

     It was lying on one of the benches near the vendors. It wasn't quite the fruit ones but Seungmin wasn't picky. He rushed over to unclasp the case, curiosity getting the better of him at what treasures it would behold.

     The case was near empty. Seungmin frowned as he rummaged around. His hands found purchase around two separated plastic wraps. Holding it up, he realized two black gloves had been wrapped up.

     He studied the items with a perplexed face. The gloves were unlike anything he had ever seen before, trimmed holes where the fingers should be, his hands pressing into rough material through the plastic. But the gloves didn't confuse Seungmin more than the only other item he found in the bag.

     A rock.

     It had a dull grayish wash, prompting Seungmin to almost throw it away. However, the surfaces were smooth like a pebble and he couldn't quite stop himself from closing his hands over the rock and letting it rub around his skin, giggling from the slipperiness of the flat surface.

     Figuring he had wasted enough time, Seungmin tossed the gloves, wrapper and all, back into the bag then slung it over his shoulders to look professional. The rock remained in his hand and Seungmin continued on his way, debating with himself whether or not he should ask his dad about his odd findings and reveal he had been snooping.

     He had made his way through the market, distancing himself from the crowd, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

     "Come back here this instant."

     The voice was berating but also... furious. Seungmin could feel its icyness up his spine. Whimpering, he slowly turned his head around.

     A man he had never seen before glared back at him. He towered over Seungmin, donning an ironed crisp dress shirt and shoes that were looking too pointy for Seungmin's comfort. His throat dried out as he forced his head to look up at the man.

     "Don't make me repeat myself." The man's voice was gravelly, as if he had swallowed nails.

     If Seungmin had been thinking straight, he would have burst to tears on the spot, letting the briefcase fall to the ground. The man would have snatched it up without a word and Seungmin would realize later that he had been carrying the wrong bag.

     Instead, his dad's warnings of stranger danger were screaming at him, along with the scolding he would be in for if he was late to the car.

     So he ran.

     And he heard footsteps following him.

     Seungmin cried out in fear as he sprinted down the first road he could find, not realizing that it was getting narrower, that the houses were becoming more and more unrecognizable.

     "You come back here, I'll kill you!"

     Seungmin could not recognize, at that age, that these were the cries of a desperate man, chasing after his one lifeline. Seungmin could only scream louder as he ran, the rock in his hand pressing hard into his skin.

     That was when he saw the house with the open door. Right in front of him, as if it had been waiting.

     He didn't think twice before throwing himself into it, slamming the door shut. He didn't know how it had locked immediately, but incessant banging on the door followed.

     "Come out right now!"

     "L-leave me alone!" Seungmin rasped out in between sobs, falling to his knees. "You're- you're scary!" The knocking became so deafly loud, he was sure the door was going to break down.

     Seungmin scanned the room. It was small, a rickety table to his right, a fireplace to his left, the flames going strong. Whose house was he in? Was anybody going to save him!?

     He gasped as the sound of a foot hitting the door echoed through the walls. He did the only thing that sounded logical and stumbled back up to continue running. In his disorientation from all of the running and tears blurring his vision, his left foot slid out from under him as he attempted a sprint.

     In a split second, he felt the embers of the fireplace searing his eyes and threw his right hand out to catch his fall, rock and all.

     It was as if his hand had frozen over, shoved into a block of ice.

     Then, he felt his screams tear through his vocal chords, scarring his throat. His tears were hot wax on his face as the smoke clouded over his eyes.

     Outside, a women's voice could be heard yelling bloody murder at the man outside. Footsteps thundered outside the house, desperate to get away from the scene.

     And in his hand, Seungmin, through all of the pain, felt the once comforting weight of the stone crumble under the heat, ashes slipping through his fingers like sand.

     Soon, he was squeezing the life out of a human being who had suddenly appeared, soothing words deaf to the most agonising pain he had ever experienced in his life.

     Then, he was waking up in sobs in a hospital bed, his entire body numb from painkillers, his parents purposefully standing on his right side to shield him from seeing his hand.

     The cluelessness followed. The inability to answer even basic questions about the previous day.

     "Don't press the topic," everybody had been told. Don't tell him anything about the day. Don't trigger it.

     He'll remember on his own. Or not.