Through the Back Door

03

"It's a simple task," I thought. All I had to do was deliver the package to the designated location; an abandoned warehouse, just outside the city. "It's not even that far from home," I reassured myself. "Just a quick in and out. Then I can go and see mom."

I left the rental building, keys in hand. If the instructions I was given were correct, there would be a briefcase in the back of the car I was borrowing. What it had didn't matter; illegal documents, laundered money, drugs, explosives, firearms, any one of them could get me pulled over. I couldn't fuck this up.

I clicked the unlock button on the keys, a beep sounded from a silver Jetta. "Thank god this one doesn't stand out as much this time," I muttered. I opened the driver's door and tossed my bag on the passenger seat before sitting myself down, focusing on adjusting the rear view mirror. Upon closing the door, I pulled out the burner phone I had been given and sent a quick text to the client: "package received, should be there in twenty minutes".

I put the cell back in my bag and grabbed my pack of cigarettes, swiftly pulling one out along with my lighter. I sighed as I placed the stick between my lips, then deeply inhaled while lighting it. "Ah," I exhaled, dropping the light and holding the cigarette between my two fingers, "nothing like the taste of cancer to get you ready for another drop-off." I took a couple more puffs before starting the car, the engine purred. "Let's get this over with."

I put the engine into reverse, quickly backing out of the parking lot before switching into drive, speeding out into the city. My thoughts were a mess as I continued to huff on my cigarette, lazily adjusting to the speed limit. All I could think of was how much I hated my father for putting my mother and I into this position; we never asked to be apart of a gang.

I never asked to be a runner since I was a child, my mother never asked to be a sex slave for seedy old men with bad intentions. We never wanted this. But as my mother got older and she couldn't 'provide' for clients the same way she used to, I made it my duty to please my father's disgusting requests so long as she was kept out of the business. She didn't deserve to be treated the way she was, and I hated him for it.

I hit the gas as I made it onto the highway, a rush of adrenaline hitting me. Driving was one of the only times I felt happy other than spending time with my mom. Although my father made life living hell for us, she was able to provide the light in the darkness. If it wasn't for her, I never would've been able to continue school, something my father had tried to pull me out of multiple times. She only wanted what was best for me, but I only wanted was best for her.

Time seemed to fly as I drove past the prairies and small farms scattered across them. I sighed as I finished the last bit of my cigarette before tossing it out the window. In a couple of minutes, I'd be dropping off the contraband. Oh how I wish I could just run off with the money and never look back. But I had my mother to take care of and she was more important than any of my selfish desires.

Before I knew it, I had arrived at the abandoned warehouse. I parked in front of the old building. I clicked my tongue as I reached behind me and grabbed the briefcase. I looked in front of me to see three men standing near the supposed entryway of the warehouse, two bodyguards and the other, presumably the client.

I stepped out of the car, briefcase in hand. I could feel my boots dig into the soft earth beneath me as I walked towards the three men. Upon closer inspection, I realized the third person was one of my dad's usual clients, a vile man by the name of Kim Hansol; however he usually went by his english name, Harry. He was originally from Korea, but had run away to Canada after some run-ins with the law, specifically dealing in the sex trade as well as drugs.

I hated this man just as much as my father as he regularly paid for my mother's 'services' and would often beat her if she didn't do what he asked. I bowed deeply as I reached the group of men, a formality I believed they were not worthy of. However, being civil during trades were important if you valued your life. "Mr. Kim, a pleasure to see you again," I lied through a smile.

"Ah, Hanbyul! The pleasure is all mine!" He did a small bow in return. "How's that lovely mother of yours doing? Has your father decided she is well enough to return to the business?"

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to beat him the same way he did my mother. I wanted to strangle him and watch the life drain out of his eyes. How dare he ask about her? "No sir, she's still very ill," I responded through gritted teeth. "I do not believe she'll be returning anytime soon."

"That's a pity," Mr Kim muttered. "Well then, let's make the trade." He snapped his fingers and one of the bodyguards went inside the building to grab the money, returning with two briefcases. "The cash is in that one," he pointed to the beige container, "and this one, is a trade your father and I agreed to do last minute." He pointed to the green one.

I clicked my tongue. Of course there was another trade, of course I had to bring more contraband back than what I had came with. "I hate being a runner," I thought to myself. "What's in the other case?" I asked, although I knew wasn't allowed to do so.

"Drugs my dear," the man stated as if it was obvious. "Your father asked for another fix."

I nodded. "Ah, I see. I simply wish I could've been notified of this sooner," I explained. "Fuck!" I internally yelled "Please, dear god don't let it be more heroin!"

"Like I said, it was a last minute deal."

I bowed. "Well, thank you for your time. May our paths cross again." Internally I was praying I'd never have to see that son of a bitch again.

Mr Kim returned the action. "I believe they will."

With that, I carried the two briefcases back to the rental and placed them in the back. I lit another cigarette as I closed the door, thankful that the trade had gone smoothly. However, the added briefcase left me with thoughts of worry. Father was always detailed with his instructions and I was almost certain he would've let me know about this before I left for the drop-off. I pulled out the burner phone and sent him a message: "It would've been nice to know about the extra package beforehand."

As if he was expecting me to message him, I almost immediately received a text back: "Don't worry about it daughter, it was a last minute agreement. You're to bring everything home and then return the rental afterwards."

I grimaced as I huffed on my cigarette. How could I not worry? And why did I feel that Hansol was lying to me the more I thought about it? I put the car into drive and headed out back onto the highway, speeding so as to get home sooner, although time seemed to slow down as I did so. "I just want to see mom," I whispered to myself, my thoughts ticking.

My alarm went off and I snapped my eyes opened. "Oh thank god," I groaned to myself, praising that I didn't have to see the ending of that memory, something that often came and haunted me in my dreams.

I sat up and leaned over to look at the teared picture on my bedside table. It was originally a photo of my parents holding me as a baby, but I had ripped off the side that had my father. I grabbed it and looked at it more closely. "I miss you mom," I whispered, my eyes suddenly teary. "I really miss you." I paused, taking a deep breath. I couldn't let my thoughts get the best of me, I didn't want another flashback. "Ugh, this is not a good start to the day," I grumbled, standing up and making my way to my closet.

"Where's my school uniform?" I asked, sliding hangers around aimlessly. "What the fu-" I turned around in frustration, looking down to the floor. "Oh yeah," I mumbled, seeing the bloodstained clothes laying at my feet. "Right, forgot. It's mostly ruined." I picked up my skirt, the only article of clothing that hadn't been damaged. "Guess I'm gonna have to wear something else today." I went back to my closet and grabbed a set of tights, along with a blouse I deemed relatively similar to my dress shirt. "I hope this'll pass in homeroom," I muttered, carrying the clothes with me to the bathroom so I could shower.

Time seemed to go by quickly because before I knew it, I was all washed up, freshly dressed along with my hair and makeup being done. I even took the paramedic's advice regarding taking care of my wound. I glanced at myself in the mirror. It wasn't particularly fancy; I only had small wings and mascara on, along with my black hair being tied into a high ponytail. "I guess I look presentable," I thought. I stepped out of the bathroom back into my bedroom, grabbing my backpack and keys.

I paused. "Should I bring my knife?" For some reason I felt that I would need it later. I decided to grab it out of my dresser and hide it in my boot. After doing so, I took one last look at the photograph of my mom and I, forcing a smile before exiting my apartment.