A Bite of the Apple

1 - Kim Bora

I hurried along the sidewalk through the rain. It was past 1am on the girls' Friday night out and it was high time I slept off some of the alcohol. The smell of it came with each breath. Why did I drink so much? And why did I decide to wear heels?

The lights were on in the city tonight. Seoul was alive with inebriated chatter and shouting. People were everywhere. But I was all alone in the city. Rain soaked through my coat and chilled me to the bone. A little shiver passed through me. I was alone. That is, until, I heard it.

A voice.

The voice.

My life was never the same after that.

I'm about to tell you everything that happened when I met her. You won't believe even half of it and I won't blame you. What happened is beyond words, beyond explanation, but I'm going to try anyway.

This is the story of the Nightmares that haunted me and the House they dwelt in. It's the story of blood and magic and terror. But most of all I would say it's a story about her. I thought I knew darkness, but she knew it properly. She knew it more intimately than a lover and it knew her in turn. Sometimes I would be jealous. And sometimes I would see the truth: a sad, haunted look in her eyes. No, sad isn't the right word. Empty. She looked so hollow, like the darkness had carved out her heart and sat in its place. It hadn't though, not really. The fact that I'm here to tell you this story is proof of that.

It was Friday night and it was raining when I heard her voice. She was calling from a darkened alleyway. Normally I don't stop for this sort of thing. A voice from an alleyway at 1am seems suspicious, doesn't it? But it was a woman's voice. She was in pain. And she was groaning, "Help me! Please help me!" So I stopped and squinted into the alley.

The alley was like any other. Filthy, riddled with puddles, and lined with trash dumps. And in the middle of it all lay a bloodied woman with beautiful hair and the darkest, most dangerous eyes I had seen on anyone. Physically, they looked brown, but there was something about her I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Still, against my better judgement I took a ginger step into the alley and called to her, "Hello? Who are you? What's happened?"

The woman propped herself up on shaking hands and knees. "I need help," she gasped. "And I have no other option but you." With a large grunt she heaved herself onto one foot, then pushed herself into standing position. She swayed like a drunkard, but her eyes locked onto mine. They sent a chill down my spine. "I'm sorry," she said. And then she collapsed.

I raced to her side and knelt on the muddy ground. Hooking my arms under hers, I turned her onto her back and pulled her up against me. "I'm taking you to the hospital," I said.

"No," she hissed. "No hospital."

"Give me one good reason."

"They will kill me."

"Who will? Why?"

But the woman didn't answer. She had passed out in my arms. Her skin was deathly pale, and she had several large gashes running down her forearms. The ends of her shirt sleeves looked like they had been torn off by a wild animal. I had no idea what had happened to her, but I couldn't just leave her there. She needed help, and for some reason the hospital was a no-go.

In hindsight I realise the smart thing would have been to simply take her to the hospital regardless. But it was dark, and I was alone, so alone, and she was right there when she needed me. When I needed her. Needed someone. So I slung one of her arms around my shoulders and through the rain and night I hauled her the rest of the way home.