"Both of you will be flying to Korea next Monday. Pack what you need, and we will ship the rest of your belongings in due time." My father sipped his coffee as he began an array of instructions for me and Damian.
"Aunt Holly will meet you at the airport and drive you to the condo. You are to settle down as soon as possible and check out the florist right after unpacking. Call me if you need anything. Questions?"
"You have pre-packed suitcases for us that are ready to go?" Damian asked with disbelief.
I consider myself pretty tolerant, but even I couldn't figure out the logic behind those suitcases.
Mom and Dad, on the other hand, calmly had their afternoon tea and acted as if all these were meant to happen. But we weren't having it. We needed answers.
"Why do Grandpa and Grandma have properties in Korea? They've never even been there before!" I exclaimed, hoping my dear parents would explain.
"They just happened to buy some. Think of it as an investment."
"An investment in Korea? But we have no relatives in Korea. The only person we know from there is Aunt Holly, and she's just a family friend."
"Who has been a wonderful friend to me and your father for the past thirty years, don't you think so, dear?" My mother gently tapped on my father's shoulder, smiling knowingly.
I knew Mom. In the past, she often had secret phone calls that she didn't want us to overhear, or abruptly stop her conversations with Dad when we came into the living room. All the little details told me that she was a secretive person.
Heck, who knows? She might even be an outstanding spy for keeping so many secrets.
"Dad, be straight with us. What is in Korea that requires me and Talia to relocate there?" I could tell Damian was getting frustrated. I looked at that Dad, and all I could get from his expression was: No more questions.
"Instead of asking us, why don't you head over and find out for yourselves? Surely I've taught you better than to ask questions you won't get answers for." Dad said in a low voice while sipping his coffee. His tone suggested that we were treading on eggshells now. I don't think I want to die before hitting thirty. I nudged Damian, silently telling him to back off. He sighed and shifted gears. "What did you pack for us?"
"Some essentials. Remember, pack what you need."
Hearing Dad emphasising those words, I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that. Pack what I need. Toothbrush? I think I can just get one there. Money? Pretty sure I have enough. Clothes? Passport, ID card, bank cards, shoes, bags... I can't think of anything.
Unless he's asking me to pack...that.
*
After going back to my room, I opened the wardrobe and pulled out a rectangular box. I couldn't bring myself to open it. I just couldn't. It was like Pandora's box—opening it meant reliving the hell I'd tried to bury. I wasn't ready to face that. As I sat at the edge of my bed, I thought of how I became who I am today.
When I was young, Dad used to bring me and Damian for 'ice-cream dates'. In truth, he would take us to the old house where he used to stay with Mom. We would pass through the living room and head straight to the kitchen, and into the storeroom at the very end.
The first time I saw this storeroom, it gave me the creeps.
You have to understand, it was a very, very, old house.
The moment you walked in, it was just dust everywhere. And every few steps you take, there will be cockroaches, you heard me, cockroaches, scuttling across the floor. I swear, the bedroom had like rats, cockroaches, and God knows what in there. Just the very thought of that made me shudder.
And just when you think it's over, you have the storeroom.
The storeroom had a wooden door that was so worn out, it might crumble to dust by the mere touch of a finger. And when the door opened, it creaked like an old castle gate—slow, dramatic, clearly in need of some WD-40, and just unsettling enough to raise a few neck hairs. As a five-year-old back then, I was scared shitless. That doesn't even compare to what's in the room.
Inside the room, there was nothing except a worn-out couch with some books that had pages torn out scattered across the floor. A single, dimly lit lamp hung in the middle of the room, its light barely covering a small radius.
And the floor.
Hell, the floor board was so messed up with rotting wood and splinters, you'd most likely fall ten feet underground if you didn't see where you were going. It was like walking into a nightmare that had a bottomless pit.
Despite that, the thing that scared me the most in that storeroom was the floor hatch.
Beneath it lay a hidden staircase to an underground training centre—the stuff of my childhood nightmares.
The first time I came to the storeroom was when I was five. My first obstacle was to reach the hatch by walking across the floorboard, but I didn't walk. Instead, I jumped. Thinking back, it was a really stupid thing to do, jumping. What was I even thinking?
The moment my feet touched the planks, the wood gave way and I nearly fell to my death. In my defence, who on earth would design a single-storey house with a hollow floor in the storeroom?!
Here I was, dangling from the floorboard, trying to hold on to whatever plank there was for dear life. Damian immediately rushed in to save me while my father stood by the door, arms crossed.
I remember crying to him after Damian got me out. The only words that came out of his mouth were, "Figure out how to get to the hatch without falling to your death. And do not copy your brother."
The words hit me like a dagger to the heart. My own father—the man who did colouring with me, drove me to school, gave me presents every time he came back from another country—didn't even care whether I lived or died.
For the next 20 minutes, I sat at the entrance of the storeroom alone, sobbing.
Suddenly, I felt something cold touch my cheek. "Here, Dad bought you some ice cream." I took a look at the ice cream Damian was holding. Mint chocolate, my favourite. But the moment I heard Dad had bought it, I felt nauseated. I turned away from the ice cream; it was as if I didn't want anything associated with Dad.
Damian observed my reaction and sighed, "I went through the same thing, you know." I turned my head abruptly, wide-eyed. Damian smiled bitterly and said slowly, "The difference was that no one came to save me. I had to get out of that hole by myself. Dad just stood there and waited."
"Why didn't he help you?"
"He wanted me to figure it out by myself. You know, to make me stronger."
"And did it?"
"I wouldn't be here if it didn't. Look, you may think that Dad is a monster for leaving you there earlier. But he means well." I was in disbelief. He means well? "There are scarier things out there to be afraid of than just the dark. I've seen them. If I didn't go through this, I would've been dead."
"Dead?"
"Dead."
Hearing the word 'dead' coming from Damian made me feel filled with dread and fear of the world outside of this house. At that moment, all I wanted was to get out of here and go to Mom. Yet, what Damian said next made me stay.
"I know you want to go home now and tell Mom about what happened. But Mom's in it too. Listen carefully, Talia. You're young and you won't understand a lot of things now, but just go through whatever Dad puts you through. You can hate him for it, and you can be angry at him, but at the end of the day, you will be thanking him for making you go through what you might call a 'nightmare'. If you don't trust him, then trust me. I will be by your side when things get hard." He gripped my shoulders tightly and stared into my eyes with unwavering confidence.
All at once, my dread and fear melted away, replaced by a deep sense of security—one that only my brother could give me.
I looked back at that seemingly unreachable hatch and took a deep breath.
I can do this.
The first thing I did was test the floor. I took some of the books that were nearer to me and threw them towards the couch. When I realised that the path to the couch was safe, I walked towards the couch and stood on it. Now the hard part. There was a distance from the couch to the hatch, and the books I threw across that distance made the planks crack and groan. The only way across was to jump. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, summoned all the strength I had, and jumped.
BAM!
My body hit something metallic. I opened my eyes and saw a metal handle. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I started to cry. I turned to the entrance, standing there was Damian and the man who would become my teacher for the rest of my childhood—Dad.
He had an expressionless face, which made me scared. Was he going to ask me to do it again? Or is he going to leave me here and let me figure out how to get out of the room by myself? Countless possibilities and worst-case scenarios flipped through my mind.
I was desperate to get out of here.
"Good job, Talia." I was caught off guard when I heard those words. Never in my short five years of life did I imagine that two simple words—'good job'—could make me feel like I was on top of the world.
I stared at my father, who was still standing by the entrance, and with open arms, I cried out for him. The next thing I knew, as if gravity no longer applied to him, Dad floated across the room. I froze—was I imagining things? I was so stunned, I stopped crying. The feeling of sadness vanished into thin air, and any ounce of anger was washed away by an overwhelming sense of disbelief.
When he landed gently in front of me, I wanted to ask him a million questions, but the words were stuck in my throat. With a gentle voice, he said, "I was harsh earlier, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. You are my daughter, and I would go to the ends of the world to protect you. But I can't always be there by your side. When I am not with you, you must be able to stand strong and face any adversities that come your way. What I just did, you will be able to do it too. It will take time, and I will guide you through it. However, you must be determined and diligent in your training. Most importantly, you must be patient, not with me but with yourself. Can you do that?"
As a five-year-old, I didn't think I had any choice. Now that I think about it, he didn't even give me a choice. But seeing him float mid-air made me so intrigued, I didn't have to think much about it.
As you can guess, I said yes.
Thus began my nightmare.