✔Invisible Girl | Bts Seokjin

• Chapter 1 •

◈◈ Y/N POV ◈◈

I sat on the rail of the balcony of my room.

Alone.

My body stiffened with each swing of my legs.

I was alone.

Alone like always.

Alone again.

The wind of early December caught my hair, blowing it toward one side of my face. My arms filled with goosebumps, the only thing covering them was a thin, long sleeve shirt.

What had my life become?

My father had been a kind workaholic with problems sleeping, and my mother?

She was once a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her.
They married at the age of 24.
Young lovers who met through destiny.

As luck would have it, they moved into a small house, bought a dog, and a car, and decorated the garden with beautiful tulips and gardenias.
Not long after, they received the news that they would become parents. He began working at a huge corporate company, while she sold cookies for neighboring kids and parents.
She had already investigated the neighborhood; getting information on the elementary school down the block, finding other future moms and befriending them, and finding places to shop for the child to come.

The house became a baby sanctuary. The walls of the new baby's room were decorated pink, stuffed animals on the floor, and a rocking chair on the corner, next to a window with a balcony.

It was perfect.

They were perfect.

A cookie-cutter house,
In a cookie-cutter neighborhood,
With a cookie-cutter family.

Everything was so perfect.

Everything was so right.

It was.

My mother was a gentlewoman, brought up by two upscaled hardworking parents with 7 other children.

My father was a kind-hearted, loving, and devoted husband. He was raised on a small farm with three brothers and a younger sister. His sister became an attorney, one of his brothers became a doctor, another became a world-traveling agent, and the last became a school teacher.

I was born to be alone. 

Born to a couple who was perfect, yet I was all but that. They were both my everything, my light, my meaning, the pillars that held me up.  

I was 15 when my parents died in a horrid car crash.

Drunk driver.

I swayed my legs against the railing of my balcony. The air was fresh, almost cold as it had rained earlier. The news forecast had shown the possibility of snow.

"You use to love the snow, Mama. I remember how Papa showed me how to make a snowman for the very first time. My hands were so cold they felt like they were going to fall off afterward. He said he looked like Grandpa," I whispered into the crisp air with a chuckle.

I looked down the street below. 

Nothing could be heard, but the occasional barking of dogs and a couple of birds singing. It was late, late enough that it was as if no one was awake but me.