Chou Tzuyu.

I hate that name.

It's the name my parents gave me, the name that they labeled me for as long as I lived. The name they thought they were so proud of for coming up with, the name that they were so ecstatic to give their newborn baby daughter.

But in the end, I didn't matter as much as I did in the beginning.

Which was exactly why I was currently stuck in a highly secured prison compound in Korea, instead of my stupid brother who really deserved to be in here.

He was the one that had committed all the crimes, the one who had stolen and burned and assaulted every single day.

He had been the one to go to trial, the one sentenced to be too young for prison, and instead had been sentenced to 100 days of jailor work.

But it was me who had been thrown in here instead. A seventeen year old teenager, missing her entire summer just to spend it in this cold, dreary prison.

I hated my brother. I hated my mother. I hated my family.

The jailor hands me a ring of keys as he tries to keep his uncontrollable smile away. After all, he had just found out that a young girl was filling in and that he was off work for a full 100 days.

What a jerk.

He doesn't even try to hide the smile anymore as he leads me down the long aisle full of prisoners, introducing me to each and every one of them.

Arson.

Thievery.

Murder.

The crimes he lists off gets more severe in degree as he goes further down the terrifying hallway. And I didn't know if it was just my paranoia, but it also seemed to get darker and colder as we went down.

When we reach the very end of the hall, my eyes land on a cell completely isolated from the rest of the others.

The jailor's lips curl in a scorning snarl as he waves his hand dismissively towards the darkness, set apart behind thick, heavy bars.

With the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, I see half of the prisoner's body illuminated dimly.

He's slumped on the ground, breathing low and heavy as his dark eyes glimmer hatefully towards my direction. He looks surprisingly young, face so full with youth it shocks me.

"That's V. Only name we could get out of it. Looks cute and innocent on the outside, right? It's the devil's own son right there. A monster in human form."

His head suddenly tilts, revealing his piercing dark eyes even in further detail. His hair cascades down his forehead in dark strands, brushing his light-toned skin.

My pulse races when I see his lips stretch taut in distaste, his glittering irises giving away nothing.

What had he done to deserve this?

"Anyways, don't try to get close to it." The jailor warns as he kicks the bars of the prison. V doesn't flinch in the slightest, his face still shadowed.

Why was he keep referring to him as it? He was still a human being, no matter what he'd done!

"Are you listening?" He snaps, and I nod quickly, wincing. That wasn't a good example at all.

The jailor gives me a withering look before continuing his dull description. "It's diagnosed with PPD, which is basically Possessive Personality Disorder. Haphephobia. And possible nyctophobia, which is why you have to keep the light on at all times."

He scoffs at the immobile boy in disgust.

"But you're welcome to turn it off if you want to watch the thing tremble like it's been possessed. Enjoyed it a couple times myself."

When he's not looking, I throw him a look of my own revolt. This man was psychotic- why else would he like to watch the boy suffer?

Shoving down the disgust in my throat, I ask. "What's haphephobia?"

I knew what nyctophobia was because my mother had it. But whatever haphephobia was I had absolutely no clue.

"Extreme fear of touching or being touched."

Disorder after disorder, I think. And I understood how he felt like, at least for a little bit. I carried a disorder as well, a particularly annoying one where I often had fainting spells. And it got worse whenever I skipped my meals.

Imagine having three.

"Your main job is to take care of him. Get him food, whatever else. But for today that's all I got for you, so you can either just go take a nap or do whatever."

And then he leaves in a flash, an obvious skip in his step as he disappears down the hallway. Instead of napping or unpacking my things, I lower myself down in front of V's cell.

He hasn't moved a single inch since that last tilt of his head.

I make myself comfortable on the cold ground, just watching his slender outline in the dark. His eyes stay fixed onto the wall opposite his, the flickering lights seeming to cast more shadows around his form.

And for an entire hour, I sit, trying to ignore the vicious catcalls the other prisoners gave.

I had half a mind to let them starve. It was just so annoying.

But unlike the others, V is still and perfectly silent. An aura of wintry distance seems to radiate off of him like heat from fire, natural and like meant to be.

He looks dangerous and cold.

I watch him until I grow accustomed his shadowed features, his night-kissed figure. I watch him until I feel like I've memorized every line, every form angle of his body.

And then I decide that he must be hungry. I didn't know how old he was, but he was pretty tall— and I knew from my brother that growing boys tended to be hungry all the time.

It doesn't take me long to find where the food was stored, and it also doesn't take me a second to grimace in disgust.

Where I should've found meat and fresh vegetables, all I found was stale bread and cheese— harder than rock and showing clear signs of age.

It makes my brows furrow in anger that they thought that food like this was enough to keep a boy sustained.

Firmly refusing to take him any of that, I slam the storage door shut behind me and grab my own lunchbox instead.

Even a criminal didn't deserve to eat that kind of food, no matter what horrors they did. And he was just a young boy. Didn't the people here have anything called compassion?

Then a brief thought crosses my mind as I make my way back to his cell, lunchbox gripped preciously in my hands.

What if I passed out?

My disorder would get even worse if I neglected my meals. It would cause my body to shut down more often— and for longer periods of time.

Once I'd boycotted three consecutive meals and had ended up passing out in my room for seventeen hours— nearly starving myself until the point of malnutrition.

But I couldn't just give him that food. I just wouldn't— it was too cruel, too wrong.

Even the dog we used to keep at home had better meals than those, and in my dictionary, humans were an infinity times more valuable than animals.

When I get back to him, I see him in the same position as I'd seen him since the beginning. It's stunning how someone could stay that still and silent for such a long period of time— but again, he must've had a lot of practice.

After all, you couldn't do much in a secluded prison cell.

V's POV

My mind sparks with pure annoyance and hatred when the girl returns, with all her innocent stares and curious gestures. Hadn't she heard that damned man tell her what he was?

My clenched fists twitch when she peeks at my form with those infuriating eyes of hers. Half of me wanted to make her blind, just so that she couldn't get a look at me ever again.

The other half wanted to just kill her entirely.

Everything would be so much easier that way.

How's the start?