ABOUT LAN CHI

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who are you?

you never knew your parents; abandoned at the hospital as an infant. no matter how much you cried nor wailed, no one would come to get you. you were abandoned, and perhaps a part of you already knew that to begin with. you would never know the warmth and love from the womb to arms, no matter how much you might have wished for it at the time. or.. rather, as an infant? the thought of you desiring anything was laughable - you were nothing more than a byproduct of a good time (a hangover from the drunken bliss, free from the ties that root them to reality). you never knew your parents, but that was fine. you were left with the nurses an, thankfully, a young couple who had recently lost what should have been a triplet immediately took you in. Was it a miracle? an answer from the gods? who would know?
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you were happy with your family - a large and bustling one, at that. though you were the youngest and the most frail of the bunch, you fit in well with the bunch of children and teenagers alike. fostered and adopted, your parents were, indeed, foster parents as well. you had met countless people, with both good and bad intentions (as bad as it could get; the worst was when they tried to take your toys) but you had fun, nevertheless. though people came and left, a full family of twelve - including yourself - was more than enough in such a large, bustling home. your adoptive father owned a company and your adoptive mother helped. though they weren't home too often, you were never lonely. you had an abundance of company.
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you were

only four. you got into an argument with your two older siblings, both of which were the twins, over something so small and petty. you ran off without a second thought, away from the playground while your older siblings were on their phones. no one paid attention to you, who was sulking and grumbling into her knees. "dummies!" you would wail, crying until a man heard. you don't remember a face, nor do you remember a name. you just remember booming voice and a toothy smile. an outstretched, gloved hand in spite of the warmer weather. "is something the matter, little girl?" he asks. you, in your childish outburst, began to cry and whine about your siblings. how mommy and daddy were never home, openly talking about the electronics that your wealthy parents gave unto you. you would rant and rant - a child with zero caution; it's only natural that the youngest of ten children would be overlooked, especially with time constraints. you, though never lonely, ranted to a man whom you didn't know.
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you shouldn't have
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you were

only four, after showing him back to your house. a large house, enough to fill up ten children in addition to the mater bedroom. your nanny was furious with your older siblings, and you soon found out that they were all worried. having been calmed down, you did your part in an attempt to calm down the rest of your family. you cheerfully introduce the man, they thank and he leaves with a bow. it wasn't until later that week where you realized that, perhaps, you shouldn't have brought that man home. perhaps, you should have asked if you could go back to the park. but no matter how you looked at it, you were safe, and that's what mattered. what mattered was now.
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you were

only six. it was your birthday, your family arranged a surprise party for you, where everyone but you would be home to set up for your birthday. they had gone years without celebrating a large event (most times they'd clump it with your twin siblings, but perhaps it was a congratulations and celebration for getting into grade school). You took the bus back with a teacher, having gotten a call earlier that day about your parents' absences. neither of you suspected a thing, as the door opened up. neither of you suspected a thing until you heard a muffled scream coming from behind, your teacher immediately choking out blood through her throat. you were about to scream, but you were suddenly pulled into the door. locked, shut in.
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decorations - scrawled around, dirtied in sticky red that stained your pure, white shoes. you wanted to scream and run, three men before you stood with a grin. yet they did nothing; the man you were familiar with, standing tall with his bright red gloves let out a deep, rumbling laugh. the same laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "when ya get older, lass, we're comin' f'er ye, too~" and with that, they were gone. gone as though they were never there, leaving a bloodied trail of corpses in their wake. you couldn't bear walk through the house, but you never dared walk outside to be greeted by another body-- no. you were scared that if you went out, then those people would be waiting and they will take you.
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they weren't good people. [break][break]

you were

only five. you called the police, but you didn't know how to explain. you didn't know a name, a face-- you only knew a voice. but how would a voice be able to explain anything? your last memory and sight? was of the corpses. mother and sisters in the kitchen, preparing a cake now sullied with blood. father and sons, setting up knocked over furniture and decorations. if this were a nightmare, you wanted to wake up. did you? no, you didn't, because you couldn't. it wasn't a dream. [break][break]

you were

not recognized as the daughter of a larger company. you were not seen as the inheritor. you were cast aside by your uncles and aunts, all of who fought viciously for the title of their late brother. there was no place for you here. when there was, their time was consumed with fights and money - less on your well being and more on their own children. Back to the orphanage you went, more bruised and broken as ever. you were broken - used goods. you didn't need to get older to know to fear the adults around you. after all, the only ones you could trust were the ones in the orphanage.
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you were

barely six. no one took you in. when someone fostered you, they immediately tossed you back. you were too quiet, you were too much trouble. you were lonely; there were no other children your age. you craved attention and you craved companions - you didn't want to be alone. but talked to people? it was terrifying. looking up at people - looking up in general - scared you (you can never forget what you saw when you titled your head). besides; you liked the orphanage. yes, people will leave you. it's okay, as long as they're there for even a little bit. even if you were cry in your bed after a little while, after you have to do it over and over again. it became harder and harder - you got attached to too many people. they were real and they were alive - you could touch them. you could play tag, hide and seek, tickle tag - you could do anything. that was too close. it wasn't fair. they shouldn't get so close, when you know they were going to leave. the friends who stayed were the paper figures you made in your free time.
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one day, you had to wear glasses.
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you were

only seven. you wore the glasses all the time, even when you didn't read. it changed everything; it was like looking at a tv show. no one could touch you, no one could get close. they couldn't do that - not when they were just on tv. after all, the tv couldn't hurt you. you thought that no one was going to adopt you, until you were finally taken in by a kind couple. a young woman, who seemed to adore you out of all the other children. though you were quiet, you helped introduce the parents to the other children. you earned a special place in their hearts, and that was that. they were willing to take you to therapy. they were willing to help you, the most they could. eventually, you turned to faith as a coping mechanism - and perhaps as your other outlet for company.
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therapy, appointments, school-- everything was hectic, but things were becoming normal. things were getting better.
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you were

twenty. you had settled with your new parents long ago, and you were forever grateful. you had met your younger cousins - si-yeon and eun-ha - and grew to be an older sibling to the two girls. you were the one who gave advice, while also living a relatively relaxed life as an only child. you had mellowed out significantly as you grew, now even having a partner of three years with you. you were both studying law, and you loved him to bits and pieces. what you didn't learn until much later, however, was how the man who'd expose you to so much blood was so much closer than you intended him to be. in fact, he was your lover's own father.
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you see him again at a meeting, petrified and hesitant. you can't move nor say anything, but you try not to say anything to your partner. there was nothing to say, and you didn't want to bring it up when somebody was acting so.. disgustingly friendly with you. you tried to ignore him-- but after learning this information, the rage filled you when he was no longer in your sights. you went to the police and demanded an investigation and search. three years later, the man had been investigated for tax evasion and fraud. a line of crimes surfaced, and you acted as a main witness to testify and press homicide charges. you won the case. [break][break]

you thought that everything would be okay, now.
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you turned

twenty-five, still with your lover. you didn't see anything change, you still love each other (you told yourself time and time again; please don't abandon me). come the wedding, you were dressed beautifully. you smiled for him, you giggled at him. you had both carried on as nothing happened, and you were excited to share the rest of your lives together (along with the two, kicking, soon to be children in your womb). come the alter, your vows have been said. the final 'i do' you've dreamed of since childhood--[break][break]

never happened

you'd betrayed him, left his father to rot. you left the murderer of your only family rot in the cell, while your family rotted in hell. he grabbed your best bridesmaid, proposed to her and, all of the sudden, she became the wife. you were furious - but you cried. you were weak, and so you could do nothing but cry to the pain of heartbreak.[break][break]

rage overtook you later on. you chased after him, through the doors and tried to get an explanation. until you, who had hidden it for a while and intended for it to be a surprise - blurt out that you carried his children. as you held his arm, he froze stiff. if anything, she wanted their father to be there. she wanted him to love his children, even it didn't necessarily mean loving her. without a warning, he had suddenly elbowed her in the stomach to push her out of the door. you winced, arched slightly before the door knob jabbed the side of your stomach--[break][break]

and blood

you were only twenty four, and you left your fiancee afterwords. he never bothered to chase you, he killed your child - of course you would be enraged. you take the remaining child, grieving over the first, and swearing to devote the rest of your disposable life on this little thing.[break][break]

you are

now thirty, called 'mother' by a beautiful little girl who brings you flowers, hoping to see you smile again.

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call me
MARSHMALLOW

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