For The Thrill

Chapter 3

She moved slowly, her short, square heels tapping on the floor until they came to an abrupt stop. She took a seat and curled her legs over the other. The friction of her stockings pressed together stung. She was only really paying attention to her heart and the sounds it made when she wanted to think of other things.

The bartender, a short Hispanic man with his hair brushed to the side, gave her a shy smile and asked her what she would like. She straightened her posture and cleared her throat.

"Whatever that woman had," she told him, leaning in and pointing at the pretty brunette. He gave her a stern nod. She suddenly felt the need to run her fingers over her hair, just to make sure it was still in place. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders and styled in marcel curls. She patted them gently.

Then her eyes shifted across the room, moving past all the flirty dancers, the seated tables of friends who drank too much, and those who simply stood, whispering and giggling to each other. They all seemed so involved in their worlds, feeling the rhythm and humming to that stupid song. Swayed their hips and shimmied their shoulders. Tapped their knees when the chorus dropped. Unrecognizable faces drowned in by their smiles, laughter, and flirtatious advancements.

And suddenly, she felt so alone. The bottom of her eyes turned a bashful pink.

She turned and watched the bartender glide across the length of the table. He passed her the drink and she thanked him before her throat went completely dry and useless. He didn't hear the crack in her voice.

She held the drink in her hands for a minute, just thinking. Maybe it was the song playing. It was their song, their cue to get up and dance until their feet got sore and their breaths gave in. They'd walk back home together hideously drunk and hopeless. She kind of missed him. He always knew what to order, what they needed for that night to get lost and find each other's bodies against their own. Maybe she should have gone back the moment she stepped inside and heard that song playing.

"Where's your whore?"

She looked behind her at an older woman, almost relieved she had heard a familiar voice. The woman sat next to her, large crystal rings coating her fingers. She wore a fuzzy white coat and a thin, knee-length dress. Her dyed blonde hair turned an awkward green under the bar lights. It was gently curled, just to avert from the silky texture of her natural hair.

"I left him." She drank her bland wine. She needed something stronger. She didn't know why.

She didn't feel too upset.

"He looked too good to be with a"

Soo-Jin stood up and paid before the older woman called her a "filthy Japanese prostitute". She grabbed her purse and walked out the back exit. That route was closer to her house and safer. She shouldn't have gone out today, she thought. Her mother's superstition held some truth to it.

"It's back again," her mother had muttered, shutting the window and locking the curtains. A crow had been on their balcony for two days now, somehow fascinated by the city below it. It was just a coincidence. It might not have even been the same bird. But Soo-Jin never saw the first one to judge.

"Maybe there's a dead cat somewhere." She told her mother.

She watched the sky grow darker and watched the lights of houses, apartments, and shops go off. The air around her was still and quiet. She closed her eyes for a moment, just to breathe and take in the bitter chill. She could hear the rough sounds of a conversation and the laughs of another through the walls.

She wouldn't hate it too much if it rained right now. She wouldn't feel any of it though. The roofs would have spared her the trouble. So she walked on the edges because that would mean that she wouldn't get as wet if it did.

As she walked, Soo-Jin thought of the pretty brunette and the bland wine she had asked for. Had she had it before? Had she wanted to avoid toxicity and drunkness? Or maybe she was younger, a drink for the less advanced. She was alone when she had ordered. Maybe her story was simple, boring even. A normal tale of a woman who wanted to get back home safely. She couldn't stop thinking about that woman.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the faint echo of footsteps. They grew louder, closer to the walls behind her and filling up all the empty spaces of air around her. She turned around but there was nothing in the shadows. Still, she picked up the pace and clutched her purse.

She glanced back again. There was still no one.

She tried to listen to the footsteps but they were numbed by her own. Suddenly, everything stopped. She didn't move. She pulled on her black coat and hid behind a wall, praying that things wouldn't end up like they did last time.

She had gotten drunk and heartbroken from a man who had decided to wed someone else, rambled about how it was only a surface thing to not disappoint his stingy mother. Somehow her rage insulted him. He sent his little men behind her until she was alone and dulled enough she forgot to scream. They dragged her by her hair and spat on her. Called her words she didn't understand. Choked her until their were bruises. She couldn't work for a few weeks after that. No one wanted to pay a tarnished, blue eyed, prostitute. They wanted every inch of here bare and clean shaven.

Maybe it was the older Asian woman. She calmed herself. Maybe she forgot her change and the woman was just returning it. Maybe the woman didn't want to beat or drag or spit on her.

A loud noise startled her. The person was only a few yards away. Their steps were slow, taunting, careless of the bottles, twigs, and wrappers they stepped over. She heard them crunch underneath the weight.

That old woman made a fuss over everything. The wood of the chairs too blunt for her round shoulders and back.

Soo-Jin a step forward but ultimately froze. She wouldn't be able to run too far with heels and blistered toes. The air suddenly got slimmer and it was harder to breathe.

She ducked behind a dumpster. Wrapped her arms around her knees and closed her eyes. Her heart beat like crazy. The footsteps stopped. They found her.

Her breathing quick and her hair tangled in her palms, it was as if she felt her heart taking root in her neck.  Awaiting a quick death, a quick escape. Made it easier.

No. She thought to herself.

I can't.

Her eyes cast downwards, she slipped off her heels. She left them under the dumpster to come back for them later. They were expensive. Half a month's rent. Her mom beat her when she found out.

Soo-Jin stood up, lowered her head, and made her way to the other block. The lights were always dim there. People's windows were closed off. She could hardly see any light.

But a bare, slender arm wrapped itself around her neck before she could go any farther.

She blinked twice before she let out a scream, just to look around and feel a part of the world, not something far and distant like that of a dream. Her elbows shot upwards into the other persons chest while her fingers dug their nails into soft skin.

Almost pleading, but she didn't let her words disrupt her crooked screams as they came out from behind a hand.

She thought of her mom, her grandma, and her older siblings to come back. Tears started slipping from her eyes. She'd never see her siblings again. Her grandma still hated her. She didn't want to go like this.

"Please. Oh god, please." She pleaded in Korean until she felt her mouth go free and the person's arm over her waist. It was a hug.

"Dreyes," she cried. "Please. Please, let me go."

Her body was shaking as she tried to stand on her toes, gasping for air. Her tears had stained her neck and the curves of her face. Her hair was damp with sweat.

He didn't answer back. He really couldn't. He continued to choke her until she lost herself and fell to the ground. Dreyes pulled her up from under her armpits and wrapped a thick rope around her arms and waist.

He missed how she said his name. And he missed how she fit in his arms when he carried her.