September 9th, 2003 (20 years ago)
I was seven years old when I visited a brothel.
Yoongi called them Broth Hell because the moment we stepped in, we were sinners.
"You're too gruff, pipsqueak," the man complains, readjusting himself on top of me.
The scent of dirt and beer hung close in the air of this miserable brothel. Screams and moans of little boys that sent a flickering ounce of scary comfort within me. I wasn't alone.
A pain like nothing I've felt--sparked through my insides--a white, dizzy spell in the back of my head that zapped through the contours of my teeth. Oh Lord.
My client lets out a gargle from the back of his throat. "Damn, little one, you act like u ain't feel nothin. Maybe moan a little more next time, aight?"
My lips tasted like salted metal as I nearly cracked the bone in my arm when I bit on it to stifle my screams. I sit up, just as he slips his underwear on. I couldn't feel my body.
Before I can leave, the man grabs my hand, places a couple pennies in the palm of my hand. "Go buy yourself some candy or weed."
I take the money from his hand and start to walk away, feeling the space between my legs burn. I didn't have the energy to say anything to him. Because I was so tired, and my pelvis itched and all I wanted was to go home and lie down.
I didn't know my biological mother or father. I didn't grow up in an orphanage. I grew up in a monastery. And monasteries were meant to be holy, peaceful, and quiet.
But the priests and monks didn't teach us to pray. They didn't teach us to say the rosary. They didn't teach us at all.
At seven, they made us prostitutes.
The night I turned seven was the night I lost my virginity to some pedophile.
Some think monasteries were cooler than adoption centers but I would give away all my candies to be anywhere else. Because at the monastery, we lost every ounce of our humanities.
At first, we thought it was normal. That everyone does it as a way to make a living. But I soon realized that sucking someone's dick for money is very different from from selling corndogs at a flee market.
These people weren't priests. They weren't holy. They weren't humans. They were demons. They made us do all their dirty work.
"Father, please don't do this. Please—"
The priest grabs me by my hair and shoves my head into the tub of water. "You little slut can't do a job right!"
I didn't satisfy the full needs of my client so this was my punishment. Getting "baptized" over and over again until my windpipe was clogged with water.
The water was ice cold and the urgency to breathe made my lungs hurt.
Before the priest can dip my head back into the barrel, a lady's voice breaks in, distinct and loud. "What's going on here?"
I squint up at her, my vision groggy as my eyes sting with salt water. She was pretty, with long curly hair and big clear glasses. The woman had a notebook in one hand and a pen clutched in her other hand.
Father June drops his hand from my hair. "Oh," he says. "Hello there. Don't mind us, I was just teaching him how to wash his face."
There's a furrow between the woman's eye brows, her face growing red. "By drowning the poor child?"
I swallow, tasting the salt on my lips. The priest fixes his glasses uncomfortably. "I'm sorry if it seemed that way. Who are you anyway? How did you enter the monastery?"
The lady narrows her eyes at him. "My name is Park Anya. I'm a reporter. I'm here to ask questions. There's been several reports from this place suspecting child prostitution."
The woman turns to me, her thin lips forming an amiable smile. She had big brown eyes and hair so curly I couldn't take my eyes off it.
"Hey there. Are you alright? What's your name?"
I blink up at her, feeling my cheeks go warm. "My name is Jungkook," I mumble, trying not to fiddle with the hem of my t-shirt.
Her eyes crinkle, the deep chestnut in her eyes softening . "You're so cute. Why don't you go back inside? I have questions to ask your priest." She says the word "priest" a little too dramatically that it makes me almost smile.
I think she might be our only hope.
Hoseok catches me walking towards the dorms and runs towards me to hug me. "I though he was going to drown you again! That pedo!"
I nod. "He was but then this pretty woman came," I say, glancing back to watch as the reporter, Anya, and Father June walk towards the parish office, talking earnestly to one another.
My eyes narrow at them. "Do you think she'll get us out of here?"
There's a sparkle in Hoseok's eyes and I shrug. "She's a reporter. Maybe if she finds out what they do to us, they'll shut this place down?"
"They'll shut this place down?" Jimin echoes, stepping outside his room with Jin. They were holding hands, grinning at us stupidly in excitement.
"I don't know," I say, catching a glimpse of a little girl from afar who's staring at our friend group with a shy grin. When she catches my eye, she hides behind a sycamore tree.
I tilt my head to the side, baffled by her presence. Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok start to discuss their delusional dreams if we did make it out of this place.
Jimin was going to open a bakery so that he can stuff his face with mango mochi all the time. Jin wanted to bake at Jimin's bakery.
And I don't hear Hoseok's plans because by then, I'm curiously walking towards the little girl by the tree. I've never seen a little girl here before.
Was she here for adoption? That's not possible. She's a girl. And this place is for boys–men–filthy men.
I try to get close to her, but Anya, that reporter steps out from the parish office, yelling, "Y/N! Time to go home princess!"
Y/N steps away from the tree, giggling up at her mother as she gets lifted in the air before getting carried on her mother's shoulders. I stare at them, with mild envy. Will I ever be held like that by anyone?
What did I do so wrong to be treated this way? What makes our lives so different?
Anya pauses, turns right in my direction, her smile fading when she sees me, probably noticing the expression on my face.
I swallow, and an idea comes to me. What if I tell her everything? About what they do to us? Will she believe me? She's a reporter after all.
Just when I'm about to say anything, I feel Brother June's big hand on my shoulder, heavy and stiff. "Come on, Jungkook-ah. It's time for dinner. Say bye to Anya."
Anya forces us a tight smile. "Until next time," she waves, and her daughter grins at me cheekily, but I'm too numb to wave back.
I only send her a grumpy look, making her pout as her mom carries her away, disappearing behind the gates. When I overlooked Y/N's cuteness, she pissed me off.
Was she here to show off her perfect life?
Nonetheless, I wondered if I'd see them again.
And after a week, I did. But I could never talk to Y/N or Anya. Brother June knew of my previous intentions and always kept his eye on me.
Yesterday, I caught her picking roses on the field, her figure balled up as she bends over in her fluffy white dress that swallows up her whole body, leaving only her ponytail sticking up.
I walk towards her, making her small head angle up to catch my eye. Her big brown eyes go wide and she jumps back, plopping on the ground on her butt with a small thump.
I try not to laugh. She was so cute. There were bits of rose petals all over her short curly hair that coiled around her ears, sticking up from the sides of her ponytail.
Her cheeks were so big they bounced when she tries to sit up again, her face turning pink. She mumbles something under her breath, and I bend, hands on my knees as I stare at her.
"Hello, you. Can you talk?"
She pokes a thumb in her mouth, then shakes her head. "Daisy," she mumbles, with a small little voice, then she reaches out her other hand to hand me a rose.
I shake my head at her, standing closer. "These are too red for daisies," I say.
She was, I could say safely, half my height. Precisely.
She cranes her neck all the way up to look at me, blushing again, then looks away, plopping a petal into her mouth, and before I can stop her, she swallows it. I sigh, looking around.
Where was her mother? Did she just leave her to play while she worked?
The girl tugs on the hem of my shirt and I look down at her. "If I tell you something will you tell your mother for me?"
She blinks at me, then nods. Did she even understand what I just said?
I lean down at her eye level. "Tell your mom that we need help. That this place is bad--bad people around. You hearing me?"
She nods, then continues picking petals from her rose. I sigh, defeated again. "Come on, Daisy. Listen to me. You're my only hope."
I could tell I bored her. I didn't have any tricks or a fun story to capture her attention.
Giving up, I only watch her play with the flowers, gently grabbing the roots so the thorns don't sting her. She was a smart kid. But apparently not smart enough to understand how desperate I am.
She sings an off tune song, not giving a care as to what I'm saying. From this angle, she looked so small I wanted to reach out and hug her. I smile to myself, regardless of not getting anything out of this.
But if I could meet the reporter's daughter, then surely I could meet Anya to. Watching Y/N play on the field, the more hopeful I had become. Will the truth of how hellish this place is finally come out?
"Drop that smile, you freak. And help me unclog the toilet. I took a fat dump and the logs are swirling—."
"Junghyun," I cut him off, "I will push you in there if you don't shut up," I grunt back at him, who's waiting by the edge of the field now, squinting at Y/N, who turns to look up, with a cheeky smile.
Was she... making fun of me?
"You should go back to your mommy," I eek out, a little too angrily before stomping towards Junghyun who's still staring at the girl.
"Aw is that a little girl? She's so chubby. I want to pinch her cheeks--"
I shove his head down. "Shut up and try flushing again. I can smell it from here."
He rolls his eyes. "Don't act smart. It's your turn to go to the brothel tonight."
A heavy tide sinks in my chest and my heartbeat quickens. "Thanks for the reminder," I gruntle, ready to go take a shower.
I had always known then, that there were two types of people in the world: those that drown us in piss and those that swim in piss.
There was not a lone soul that I could trust with anything of mine. I was dirty. I did dirty things for others. I couldn't live with myself. I don't trust anyone to get me out of this.
But there was one soul, though, one small little soul that fluttered me with the kindest hope.
And if she wasn't alive, I would have died.
~~~~~
A/N: Unedited. On a lighter note, the next chapter will be cute.
How do we feel abt a smut?