I had a fairly active childhood, one could say. However, 'active' would be a blatant understatement.

Most kids got bedtime stories and a warm hug.

I got bruises and lectures about how the world doesn't forgive weakness.

While others fell asleep to lullabies, I was up late, memorizing chokeholds and pressure points.

He said hesitation gets you killed — and made sure I never forgot it.

Being the daughter of a high-ranking special ops General teaches you things.

Like how to break someone's nose or how to keep your feet steady when your world falls apart.

Although I admit, a 5-year-old had no business learning such things.

From the moment I could walk, I was trained relentlessly to be the best, matching even the capabilities of the soldiers in my father's division by my early teens. Of course, all of this was kept quiet. Handing a twelve-year-old a rifle twice her size—or any weapon, really—wasn't exactly protocol. My father's reasons were vague, but I never questioned them; it was all I knew of the world.

It was just me and him.

My mother passed soon after I was born.

And my father never remarried.

In the end, I grew up without experiencing maternal affection. I wasn't coddled with soothing voices or soft touches. And I doubted that I was going to get it from a father who never failed to make it clear that he was deathly allergic to human affection. In some ways, I felt that he blamed me for it, ridiculous, I know, but I have my reasons to believe so.

"Cold. Unfeeling. No sense of empathy."

He used to say it like he was proud of me, like it meant he'd done something right.

Character, built from the absence of softness.

Inaccurate, but I lived up to my label.

That said, I've always thought the whole "heartless machine" thing was a bit exaggerated.

I was only perceived that way whenever he was around.

Case in point: the man practically lost his mind the day he caught me bawling over a Notebook edit. Had him practically bouncing off the walls.

I wish I were joking — he was genuinely horrified.

Said crying was for the weak. Emotional intelligence? Even worse.

Which is funny, considering I highly doubt his eyes were dry when my mother died.

Not that I'd ever say it out loud. That sort of thing wasn't exactly up for discussion.

Then again, nothing ever was.

He preferred silence at the dinner table, which meant dinner was just quiet, painful, brain-numbing agony.

I can tell it does sound like my father despises me by the way I'm describing our relationship; hell, sometimes it makes me wonder, too.

But some rare moments proved me wrong.

If you haven't already gathered, my father is the distant type. However, the fraction of a smile I saw whenever he walked past the living room filled with my childhood pictures or the silent affirmations he gave me when I hit the target precisely or managed to take him down on the mat, told me that he does care. Just not in the way an average father does with his daughter. It was obvious that he saw fatherhood through the lens of military discipline and struggled to balance paternal instincts with duty, and it may sound ridiculous once again, but somehow...I understood him.

What I didn't understand —and am yet to — was how fast everything would fall apart.

My father taught me how to survive.

He just never said what I'd have to survive from.

"What?" you ask?

The world we once knew going straight to hell.

Funnily enough, the universe got real creative with screwing me over.

Again.

Except this time, it didn't trip me up — it launched me into a full-blown apocalypse.

We never saw it coming.

A virus. And not your average pain in the ass outbreak.

It was violent, chaotic, bloodthirsty, and worst of all...hungry.

So now, not only do I have to keep myself alive (which, let's be honest, I was already struggling with emotionally), but I've also made myself responsible for seven ridiculously attractive men who — bless them — used aloe vera instead of antiseptic and said, 'It's all plants, right?"

Which is fine. It's all fine. I've totally got this.

Probably.

Maybe.

...Please wish me luck.

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Characters:-

> Kim Namjoon

-18yrs

-Has two brothers, Seokjin and Taehyung

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Chemistry, Biology and Literature

> Kim Seokjin

-20yrs

-Has two younger brothers, Namjoon and Taehyung

-High school student (senior)

-Majoring in Art, Music and Psychology

-Works at a convenience store (part-time)

> Min Yoongi

-19yrs

-Has an older brother completing his military service

-High school student (senior)

- Majoring in Music, Sports (basketball), and Biology

> Jung Hoseok

-18yrs

-Has a sister who lives abroad now

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Dance, Chemistry, and AP Calculus

> Park Jimin

-18yrs

-Has a sick younger sister who lives in a different city with their parents. Her illness requires certain treatments that only hospitals in the outer city can offer. Jimin is currently living with Jungkook's family, sharing a room with him. 

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Ballet, Music, and World History

> Kim Taehyung

-18yrs

-Has two older brothers, Seokjin and Namjoon

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Art, Biology, and Literature

> Jeon Jungkook

-18yrs

-No siblings, but considers Jimin a brother he never had. 

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Design, Dance, and Sports (football, basketball)

> Kim Yera

-18yrs

-High school student (junior)

-Majoring in Literature, World History, and Psychology

As some of you may know, this book was initially a polyamorous-themed storyline, which I have reconsidered time and time again. And I have finally decided to change the trajectory of the book. So please be understanding and patient as the story gradually changes to fit the new and improved character descriptions and plot. I'm not the person I once was, and I'd like that to be fairly obvious in my writing. I hope you all continue to enjoy this adventure, as I know it may start to feel different. But that's just how things are. Things change, and I know that's just what this book needs. 

Here's my old author's note just cos memories are special to me~

{ HII enjoyyy I know it says polyamory in the heading and now I'm starting to regret it? Im rethinking this book and I know it needs desperate reconstruction. The story lacks a sense of depth and the storyline is quite weak at the moment.

 Hence my re-doing of the introduction.

 Im well aware of the numerous faults in this book (I did only write it when I was 14 so bear with me). If you are keen on reading please go ahead its not all that bad. Read it for the humour for now lol(Thankyou for sticking around!) I do appreciate it. 

I will do a better job soon<3 Peace out!

ALL RIGHT'S RESERVED! YEA THATS RIGHT IT MEANS THAT I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS BEING PUBLISHED IN ANY OTHER LANGUAGE OR BEING PLAGIARIZED! DON'T BE THIEVES MY HOES!! }