Prologue - Residents

(Persephone)


A lively girl occupied the room at the end of the hall. More often than not, from behind the wooden door there is the constant din of music and dancing. The music always had a pop to it, which could be heard thumping through the walls. She was a very messy girl, her room was always filled with clothes, and her bed usually had an assortment of garments strewn across it. She was a digital wiz in her own way, and had a terrible habit of staying up till the crack of dawn before sleeping.


The first thing about her was her bright and vibrant pink hair; and it was, as she claimed, to be completely, 100% natural. She had no qualms about being an orphan. Nobody had the faintest idea who her parents were so they couldn’t really tell if she was telling the truth (about her hair that is). The second thing about her was that her eyes had alternate colors, something that she took uncanny pride in. When facing her, her left eye was distinctly dark green, and her right eye was distinctly dark red...and because of these traits, (and being an otaku) Persephone often held the title of 'resident anime character'.

She spent a lot of time cooped up in her room, focusing on her various projects. Personality wise, she was as bouncy as the music she listened to, and when the time called for it, she was very forward; She basked in immaturity, and sometimes, on purpose. This would have driven most people away from her, except that she kept to herself more often than not. A charismatic shut-in, someone who had enough ideas to fill ten whiteboards at a university lecture, yet had no interest in academics. Someone once offhandedly commented that if she was old enough, she could hold office as a likable, female politician.


But Persephone knew that wouldn’t happen. She’d rather die than have obligations. When it came to things she simply didn’t want to do, she was the laziest of the girls. Her hobbies spanned more than spending time blogging, voice chatting, and gaming, however. She was a skilled hip-hop freestyle dancer. She was not all that tall, but weighed as light as a feather and had great control of her actions. This added on to her particular style. She enjoyed spending time trying on new clothes and seeing what worked and what didn’t.  (She had a acute style) that revolved around sweatshirts and jeans (which really only skims the surface of what it really entails). Makeup was in most girls arsenals, but she didn’t have much need for a trifling affair as that—seeing how little she spent time outside. By that token, she was considered pale, but it looked better because she had such light pink hair, that, despite her lack of enthusiasm for makeup, took very good care of. 


Her favorite food apparently was cereal, as she didn’t have the patience to learn to cook. (That’s why she’s so thin). Whenever she emerged, her hair was usually in disarray and she would march off to the bathroom like a sloth, her shoulders sagging and her eyes half open. By that time, all the other girls had spent their time in one of the two bathrooms, and there was no traffic. Her carefully ‘planned’ strategy of having unlimited shower time was only because she didn’t go to school and didn’t really have a job. Her source of income remained a mystery to those who live within the house; and it was another thing she took pride in. This was her time of transitioning, being a 17 year-old genius high school graduate.



(Mai)




Of the four bedrooms that were in the main hall, Mai lived in the first door to the left. She had just graduated from high school last spring and her eyes were dead-set on the future before her. From those who knew her, a strange intent existed just behind her every smile, and every gleam in her eyes. Some foolishly mistook it as being flirtatious, and yet others still, saw it as malice. Though nobody could say what went through Mai's head, she is accredited for having a lot of responsibility. She spent a lot of time away from home, working at her part time job, or at the community college she was attending. Classes were all week long and she had acquired the most common symptom of college: perpetual tiredness.


She had the distinction of being tall, and slender, and carrying her mother’s Asian traits. Her skin was a fair tan, her eyes were black wells and her hair was straight and charcoal black. 
Mai had trouble sleeping, and she worried often about (things), such as: Did she do well on that test? Was she exercising enough? Was she spending enough time with her roommates, whom she adored? These things ate at her, but she found reprieve in them from time to time, enough to keep her going, and overcome the past which had tethered her to buoy in a vast, dark ocean. 


Her room was simple. Her clothes were either in the small two drawer dresser or in the closest. Her bed was pushed against the window, and her nightstand only had a digital clock on it, and a reading lamp. Her lack of material items made it easy for her to keep track of everything and keep it clean. Most of her academic materials were kept in the study which was directly above her room. By this snapshot of her life, everything seemed to be order, and with her many worries she seemed to be a nitpick-perfectionist. But Mai was anything but a perfectionist. Her most common of moods was care-free and friendly, and she was a defined risk taker; she was what some would call dangerous, and also a bit of a klutz. She had trouble with spatial awareness despite being physically fit [beyond anyone's expectations]. The only time her senses seemed to sharpen were when she was in the kitchen, especially when she had a knife in hand; as when she wasn't focused on academics, she was in the kitchen letting off stress by supplying 'family supper' for the residents.


On one hand Mai was responsible, and on the other, she was overwhelmingly frisky. She had a wild cheeriness that often threw people off, and most of the time that happened, someone got hurt. By that nature, many people who were good friends with her had learned the signs and meanings behind those sadistic, desperate, confused undertones. She was as beautiful as she was healthy, though her charm was a sharp blade; her awareness was too narrow to comprehend the bigger scope of things. Humble as her living quarters may be, it was the den of a tiger.


Although ferocious, Mai was considered the mother and father of The House, as the brunt of the responsibility was handed to her by the deed holder of the establishment, who lived elsewhere. Mai could only laugh to herself when thinking of being a mother. Her child would probably need a stay-at-home dad, for she would be too ambitious and wild to nurse the baby herself. Although she had such thoughts, her tender, troubled heart prevented her from entirely believing it. 


To her, that was at the core of being a woman.



(Sarah)


The room occupying the back corner of the house, which was the second door on the left of the first floor hallway, belonged to a girl of Argentinean descent. Going by her light brown skin and her chocolate brown hair, she was of mixed blood, owing her beauty to her striking mother (who was fluent in English and a world traveler). She always thought of her parents in a 'dark-light'; they had given her a life of luxury, but they didn’t have the heart to share it with her. That was one of the many reasons why she was now spending her time in the house, (despite the fact that the house she technically owned was much larger and nicer).

A few months ago she had celebrated her eighteenth birthday and was finally reaping the benefits of freedom. She was a quiet girl whose comfort zone could vanish on command. As soon as her smile vanished there was no amount of coaxing that could get her to open. While Sarah was drawn up by her alluring features and apparent shyness the girl was what many described as aimless, or even listless. She was too restless and fidgety to be a daydreamer, yet she was pathless and had no idea of where to go next. It was as if she was purposefully throwing herself into an unending whirlpool, and lacked the willingness to do something with her life. She had become guarded, and kept to herself, which was often mistaken as shyness or tepidness. Despite her notion of being a recluse, she didn't let it get in the way of coexisting with her peers without entirely giving herself to them. She had become disillusioned to the point where the world was full of single track people—and the ones she trusted most were living with her now in The House.

As sad and as quiet as Sarah often was, she managed to put on a strong face and carry her burdens without the help of others. Yet this was often hidden entirely by the overbearing aura that Sarah knew what went inside of your mind. She seemed to be uncannily blessed with an 'old soul', as if she had walked the walk once before.


Her room was, by far the most exotic of the group. An array of strange artifacts lined the tables and dressers and any shelf space there was to cover. Sarah’s parents were world travelers, and rarely had time to spend with their daughter (and to some degree she resented them for that). While nothing could remedy the time she had once wished to have with her parents, she herself seemed to come about many strange things: painted masks, elegant, but ancient crafted blades; a woven rug of bright reds and dark blues. There was also an assortment of vials and flasks filled with all kinds of multicolored liquids. These were her treasures, and when asked where they had come from, she would simply smile and explain that she couldn’t quite say what their origin was. 


It was wrong to say that Sarah was always melancholy. Something in her past definitely bothered her from time to time, but she spent most of her time in the social areas of the house: Watching TV in the living room, or waiting for dinner to be cooked in the kitchen, or even spending time in the upstairs study or in the basement game room. She had no need to go to work, and there was some reason why she didn't aspire to attend school. She preferred not to do much. 


Just behind her careful smile, there was a glimpse of a girl who was beyond her years.



(Aara)

The youngest girl slept in the final room on the first floor, the only room that was on the right in the main hall. She was a freshman in high school and already had an impressive academic record. If not for the prestige of the school she was to attend, she may not have even come to live in The House. The owner had established it initially for students, even though some of the girls were inclined to do nothing; Aara was one of the few who was academically devoted with an intense vigor. Whether it was her strict upbringing back home, or her own self awareness of the importance of a good education, Aara was the perfect student. She was obedient, thoughtful and best of all, knew how to play the middle ground so well that nobody could ever blacklist her.

Her diligence at work enhanced her sense of tidiness and overall neatness. Though disciplined in her own mind, she never dreamed to impose on others, by that regard she was timid, and had no initiative. As strong as she could be during tests and working through the tedious tasks handed to her, she could not figure the path she was quickly racing down. She could never take the first step; she could only wait for the other party to respond. Around the other girls she was easily shifted by the mood, there was never a time when her presence dominated. At parties she would party, during times of remorse or depression she would be sad and evasive. This chameleon act was so natural she didn’t even realize it herself at times. How easily Aara tied her biorhythm to that of those around her.


However, those observations detract from Aara’s character as if she were some lifeless being, emulating the feelings and emotions of others around her. Instead, at the core of the girl there was a principal of freedom, and instead of taking a rebellious route of antiauthoritarian action, she took the path of temporary servitude, a road that was quickly turning her to madness; another reason why she had come to The House at her parent’s insistence.


She was usually a delightful girl. Her hair was wavy and black like ribbons. Her form was petite and she had a very sensible style of fashion. She was still growing, and many of the other girls thought her to be a beauty in progress, much to her embarrassment. Aara’s bipartisan mastery made her a likely sink for ill tempered residents, though being the youngest, she lacked the superiority of taking on the therapist role. It was a burden the girl had once carried, and didn't want to carry again.

Her room was a mixture of girlish necessities, and serious practicality. The amount of time she spent in room was equal to the amount of time she wasn’t at school, or on the rare occasion eating dinner with the others. 


She was early to rise, and late to bed. One said that she has thirty hours in her day, and in fact, many of the others worried about her not socializing enough.



(Enja and Jessica)


There was one twin room that was on the second floor of the house which had a single hallway that divided the room from the Study and the upstairs bathroom. The twin room was shared by two people in fact. Enja was a foreigner who spoke a variety of languages, English being her second. Despite that, she carried a very western air about her. Despite her looks, that being dark haired, richly tanned, and big dark eyes, she claimed to be somewhere from Eastern Europe. She wore glasses, and was rarely found without a book in hand. She was attending The House as it was cheaper than a dorm room, for she was a foreign exchange student (or so she claimed).


The western air she carried was one of subtle sarcasm. She wasn’t a very loud or vibrant person, but a quiet and somewhat devious girl who tended to degrade the actions of others with little snide comments that appeared from a suitable distance away. Sometimes these little quips came while she was traversing a page of a book without missing a beat. Though she knew when to be polite and when not to be, her comments were usually offered to a third party instead of directly confronting someone. 


Questions arose on whether or not Enja was even capable of school work (seeing that she claimed to be a student). She openly admitted to skipping class in favor of reading at home, or doing something else that was more interesting. The world didn’t matter to her, and her pursuits were as whimsical as they were controversial. Whenever a debacle blew up in her face she would use every trick in her hat to escape it, and then a long session of skulking would ensue. Once her dark moody side was drawn out, it would take a lion tamer to bring her back to her cheery self. A consequence of her dark moods, her comments quickly grew to cruel insults, and she rarely apologized. It was something most people simply had to accept. 


By that token, hardly anyone was willing to share a room with the girl. That was in till the depressed Islander came. Nobody at the house knew what that meant exactly, but Jessica, the tenant in question, merely laughed and said it didn’t mean anything, really. She was brunette, and everyone was wondering why there wasn’t a single blonde or red-head living in the house (but there was a pink haired girl). From her point of view, as being officially diagnosed with temporary depression due to post traumatic stress (from an event she disclosed to nobody), it mattered not how dark Enja’s mood was, or how cruel she could be, for it was hardly a drop in the vast ocean of her sorrow.

While she was grappling with a ferocious beast inside her, and juggling school all the while, Enja had jumped on Jessica like a child would a kitten. On Jessica’s account, Enja didn’t waste a single moment soothing her sorrows by touching her and whispering foreign, but comforting words into her ear. To that notion, Jessica was the only one who could possible withstand, or even cure Enja’s dark moods, and by principle Enja was the only one who could sooth the churning rapids inside of her roommate.


As an Islander, as she described it, she was of (like so many who lived there) of olive skin. She said she spoke two dialects, but the other was never actually heard. She was only seventeen and had missed a year of school; as such she was one of the few who still attended high school. (Even though Aara was still three years younger than her). In her new environment, Jessica was ready and willing to work for a new future, though she had to first work on smoothing the terrible pot holes that laid behind her. Her past life was so traumatic, that she almost expected things to go wrong at every turn, but she knew the power of hope, and never once thought to rain on someone’s parade with her sullen mood. Remarkably, she took everything at face value. Nothing could be determined in till the very last moment.


(Dren)


It was in April, towards the end of school year that Dren was dragged into the house by Mai, who apologized for the inconvenience, but the boy would be staying at the house, occupying the basement den as his room. This caused a murmur between the girls. A single boy was staying at an all girls house? The owner of the house, (who lived somewhere warmer) said that it wasn’t actually a girl’s house, it just happened to be that the first six tenants were girls. The old lady who owned the deed laughed at the prospect: “Who would’ve thought? The first six tenants were all girls? Let the young man stay!” The boy was a member of the same graduating class of Mai’s and a vague acquaintance prior to being brought to The House.


When he had come, he was fidgety, timid and reclusive. He made vague promises not to intrude upon their daily lives as best he could. Aside from Mai, he was a great unknown to the other girls. He said didn’t have any sisters, and he said he had just left home to live on his own. Throwing him down in the basement certainly made him a rare occurrence over the summer, which he spent most of the time outside, roaming around aimlessly. Once fall started up, he spent more time upstairs to avoid the cold and he became a more noticeable addition to the now fully inhabited house. There hadn’t been any complaints, aside from occasional grumblings that they (the girls) could no longer strut around the house naked (though most of the girls had no desire to do so). Maybe it was unrealistic to complain since the owner herself didn’t seem opposed, and Mai had naturally become the head of the house essentially and she insisted that he live there.

To an outsider, it would be unheard of, along the same lines if a girl was assigned a male roommate at a normal college dorm. This was however, cheaper than most dorms, and in some previous profiles, some of the tenants lived for free. The old woman who owned it was wealthy enough, and only required that at some vague point in time the rent be paid. Some of the attendants felt obligated to keep up with their dues.


Dren was an odd man. He was pale, weak (compared to other men) and had such great detachment from the world around him; he seemed to be a daydreamer. He was also very thoughtful, and had something to say about everything, but almost never spoke them out loud. He had trouble articulating his mind, and in the words of Mai, he had thrown away his existence for something unrealistic, because it was simply, more fun. But one look at Dren told you that he was not having any fun at all. In a previous life, he was a helpless romantic, a life he had thrown away. He didn’t care about himself, and was in poor health in comparison to average standards, somehow he managed to stay thin and yet cast a ghastly aura. He hid himself behind a hood or a cap, and kept his eyes downcast. That was how he had arrived, and that summed up his persona during the first half year he had in the house dominated by girls. 


His presence was so absent there was no conflict. Of course conflict is unavoidable. Whether it was him or someone else, the lives of these tenants were about to bound in different ways. There was a cohesiveness among those present that was unexpected and yet before anyone noticed, it was right before their very eyes.