𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝙀 :
𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘐𝘯?

        𝗜 𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗢 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗖𝗞 that I almost lost my balance and fell ass-flat in my puke. The smell was nauseating and just looking at it had me lightheaded. I clutched my phone to my chest to dim the bright lighting of my mom calling me at the worst time possible. Her contact picture was of her posing in front of a zebra enclosure. Zebras were her favorite animal, and the only reason we went to the zoo—even got her out the house in the heat with a fresh curl set—aside from an assignment I had to complete for a college course.

        Of course, she was just now getting back to me. She didn't bother answering my calls while it was still day during my time. Just a text telling me to get back to her when it's daylight in Atlanta so she could catch up on her beauty rest. The same courtesy wasn't extended but I left it be. She's getting old and needed all the rest she could get.

        "Fuck." Sweat accumulated my trembling fingers trying to slide over the red icon and send my mom straight to voicemail. I had to press harder and swipe continuously until my attempts were successful. Then I quickly switched down the side button to silence my phone, something I should've done before.

        I had never hung up on my mom unless I wished to rest in hell with the devil but I had no choice. There was only so much time left until she would call again.

       "Someone's here." Dasom's voice echoed as I was crawling over my puke on all fours, touching every dirty item in sight. "Find them and bring them to me alive. Don't let them escape until we know what they know."

        My legs were moving before my mind processed the action, bolting where I think I came from. My aching feet were the least of my worries because all I knew was that I needed to get the fuck back to my hotel, pack my shit, and catch the earliest flight back to America. This was my fault for trusting too easily and accepting a full-paid trip on the pure notion that I was going to have some fairytale-like story on how I met my girlfriend if some random person stopped us for an interview. This was what I got for falling for the first woman who spared me their attention.

        And fuck me, my stupid flickering heart, still filled with love for Dasom. The version I knew well.

        As I ran with all my might down another street that started to look like the previous road, I realized I had no idea where the fuck I was. Don't even remember the name of my hotel, only that it started with an 'L'. Never needed to remember because drivers were taking me to and from my destination and Dasom handled everything. And even if I wanted to remember, jet-lag and excitement was kicking my ass that words blurred together.

        Bong was clearly not an option.

        I sensed their presence behind me, their heavy footsteps closing in with each passing second. There had to be hordes of trained-killer men in fitted suits after me because my stupid ass forgot to silence my phone, but I was determined to make it out alive. Running track three years straight in high school was finally paying off.

        "They went this way! I see them!" A woman shouted, turning a corner I recently turned.

        The alleyway was dimly lit, its cobblestone path uneven beneath my feet that my heel got caught in a crack and sent me straight to the ground. Pain flushed throughout my system but I was back on my feet in one breath. Limping and burning all over. The strap somehow unraveled itself and got left behind, now running with one good heel that cost over a hundred fifty. My determination outweighed my exhaustion and my desire to turn back for my heel. My mind focused solely on escaping the clutches of my pursuers.

        My mom called again and I hung up. Again. Whatever she wanted to discuss could wait. Her anger could wait until I was flying over bodies of ocean.

        They were cutting in close and I needed to lose them quickly.

        Dodging around another corner tight with cars parked along the curve, I dropped to the ground and crawled under a car as quickly as I could. My mind raced with fear and anxiety, clamping a hand over my mouth to control my ragged breath seeping through. I watched their feet run past and waited until they were far out of sight.

        I wish I could stay under this dirty car with no care of myself and especially my hair that cost more than everything on my body, but if I did, it was only a matter of time before they realized they'd been chasing themselves and would retrace their steps. I had to keep moving if I wanted to survive.

        I crawled from under the car and continued my desperate escape opposite from where they ran. The streets ahead were packed with not only people but with food stands and merchants. A place I could easily blend into. A rush of relief flourished when I recognized the older lady who helped me count my money. The worry on her face when she saw me running by and the looks from others was enough to know I was in some deep shit if a foreigner was running for their lives with one heel all covered in dirt and stinky puddles.

        After running for what felt like forever, the front side of my hotel came into view. By this time my lungs were burning dry I tasted blood, and everywhere was cramping that the pressure I applied to my ribs wasn't enough.

        The front desk clerk gasped when I entered the hotel looking the way I did. He asked if I was okay and if I needed help, but I didn't have the words to address him and headed straight toward the elevators.

        Triple-locking the door behind me, I rushed over for my luggage and started packing my shit up.

        Much planning went into this trip and I was looking forward to spending time with Dasom. Cute picnic dates on the beach, meeting her siblings she was always bragging about; being shown around the country, and nagging her for making fun of my shitty Korean. I had even fantasized multiple intimate occasions including our first kiss—which all went down the drain once discovered I was dating a murderer with murderous siblings! Someone who should be in jail right about now.

        I didn't sign up for this.

        And frankly speaking, my Black ass should've known better. Even my mom thought it was fishy. Saying it was some new tactic to lure vulnerable American women into sex-trafficking and brides for unwanted men.

        But no, I just had to do my own thing. I had to feed into my pampered lifestyle and desires to be in a relationship where I could play the supporting role and look pretty at their side. While everyone's fighting to make it to the top of the pyramid and losing sleep to become billionaires before their thirties, I had a simple dream. Become a veterinarian, live a comfortable financially stable lifestyle away from my old life, and hopefully marry rich.

        I was never the ambitious type in a sense. Never the strong, Black woman stereotype with the voice that spoke for all or the face of a movement that benefited others than Black women—I was just me. The quiet Black girl who knew all the best hiding spots at functions and in life, easily forgotten and ignored. The one who never stepped out of line and often kept to myself. I didn't peak until graduating highschool and finally moving out the house. But even then it took me a few years to adjust and express myself in ways that didn't linger back to how I was raised.

        And that's probably what attracted me to Dasom.

        She carried herself with such confidence and was unapologetically herself regardless of what held her back. She's such a strong woman both physically and mentally. So attentive and understanding, and always had a positive outlook. I never had to pretend with her. Never had to lie because she created a space where I finally existed. If not in the world, then in her world. And I was foolish to think any of it was real.

        My phone kept lighting up and I saw it wasn't my mom but Keyshawn, my biological mother. I wanted to ignore her but knew if I didn't, she'd keep calling until I picked up. "Why you ain't pick up the first time I called?" Her voice blasted through the speaker. "What if something was happening to me and you missed my final words? Now you gone regret it forever, wondering what I could've said."

        I stood from the floor and took off my heel to toss out, still out of breath and hurting everywhere. "Are you actively dying?" There was genuine care within the question.

        "Obviously not, girl. I was just saying."

        "Well, I'ma grown—" ass. "—woman. I'm twenty-five with a life. We've gone weeks without contacting each other and I'm not obligated to pick up whenever you call."

        "You still fucking picked up." Said Keyshawn.

        I picked up because I knew her. She'd blow up my phone until the battery died or show up unexpectedly at my doorstep. Once it's charged, she'd continue calling. If I wasn't home, she'd wait until I arrived.

        There was a sense of respect toward Keyshawn for risking everything to birth me at sixteen. Never once blamed her for leaving me at the steps of an orphanage when I was three with a backpack of snacks and my favorite doll. I watched her walk away as I cried for her, and no matter how loud I screamed, the distance between us furthered. Even later when I discovered the reason she left me was because she was forced to, I never blamed her. She didn't have the funds to, I never blamed her. She had a life she wanted to live and the one person who thought loved her wanted nothing to do with either of us, and still, I never blamed her.

        But ever since she's been a part of my life, there's never a day where I didn't wish she never existed. That she never sought me out years later when I was in middle school living the life she never had, loved by a family who would never abandon me. She was such an emotional drain. More-so an overbearing friend than a mother, who came to me when it was convenient.

        "Okay," I tried my best to hide the irritation in my tone, but I was sure she could sense it since she muttered something. "What do you want? I'm in the middle of something so make it quick."

        I continued packing my luggages after placing the call on speaker and setting it aside. My stuff wouldn't have been all over the place and disorganized had I known I would be wasting my time on a date my girlfriend ditched to murder on her downtime.

        "One, talk to your mother for me." Keyshawn started.

        "Why can't you talk to her yourself?"

        She groaned into the phone as if I was supposed to know her relationship with my parents on a personal level aside from what they told me. "She fucking hates me for one. The bitch gets all up in my face after service and is like, 'You can't keep showing up causing a ruckus in the Lord's house. She's your daughter, not a piggy bank. Can't you be a spectator in her life and not twist every opportunity into your personal gain?'." She mocked her voice perfectly with a dramatic tang seeped in. I could tell she'd been practicing it. "She acting like I asked you for a band, which was like, three hundred. Money she can cough out her holy water-flushed ass. Like I'm not seeing the point or why I gotta be a spectator when I'm the one who carried and birth you. Have I ever treated you like a bank?"

        Yes. The first interaction I ever had with her was giving her my last five that was supposed to be for a slice of pizza and a big cookie for lunch in middle school. "Well—"

        "Exactly! I don't." She interrupted before I could say my piece. "And it's not like I'm spending it on random bullshit. I was genuinely behind on rent and had to pay Keke back for hooking up my shit. I still need to go back for a touch-up. Red is definitely my color. My alter ego."

        There was no point in saying much. She never listened. In her world, only she existed.

        The quickest flight I could get out of Korea was at 6:45 am. It's almost midnight. I can't wait that long. I needed to be out of this country within twenty minutes, but I had no other option unless I knew a cargo ship willing to smuggle me out. At least it gave me enough time to freshen up so I looked somewhat decent. I still hadn't figured out how I was gonna get this video to the police.

        I lathered my toothbrush with toothpaste and started brushing my teeth. "And the other reason you called?"

       "I was getting there, girl. Be calm." There was movement on the other. She was probably outside in the neighborhood for a quick smoke. "But I need to hold five hunnid. I'll pay you back."

        "Five—that's more than you ever asked of me. You still haven't paid me back the last time you borrowed from me." I rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, no longer tasting any remains of puke and alcohol. Then downed a bottle of water to keep myself hydrated.

        "And I will! I'm tallying up the dollar amount and my boss finna give me an advance. So obviously, when I get it, I got you."

        I discovered the thick envelope filled with cash Dasom gifted me. It was next to the dying flowers on the dresser next to my passport and jewelry. I hadn't used much of it because it was too much of it and I didn't know what to spend it on. Just looking at it gave me the creeps. Who knew where it came from or what she had to do to get it?

        "What you need that much for?" I asked Keyshawn who suddenly grew quiet on the other end.

        "Willy needs some help."

        "He's locked up, you mean?" When she didn't say anything, I knew it was true. She was trying to save a relationship that wasn't there anymore, staying loyal to a man who didn't respect or love her. "I can't keep bailing out your boyfriends, Keyshawn! I did it once cause you promised you'd stay away from him. What's happened now has nothing to do with me."

        "I am staying away!" Keyshawn defended. "He did something little and the cops turned it into such a big deal. He called me so of course, I'ma help."

        "Why can't you use the advance to bail him out?"

        "Cause I'm using that for something else—to-to pay you back. Why you acting stingy like you don't got it?"

        "Cause I don't."

        "Yes, you fucking do or else you wouldn't be up in Korea right now. Stop playing with me." Her chuckle was far from a humorous moment. "Them tickets over two bands, I looked it up. Plus I know you staying in a nice hotel and eating good by that little story you posted not too long ago. What I'm asking for isn't touching the amount you're spending on your trip."

        Everything she mentioned wasn't coming out of my pocket except for my plane ticket back. Aside from that, I did save more than enough for the trip in case anything happened. Which did. I didn't want to depend on my girlfriend or constantly ask her for money when I wanted to buy something on my own time and enjoyment. But I still wasn't giving any of that to Keyshawn even if she was on her knees begging.

        "I'm not giving it to you. When I said I was done, I meant it. Find another way." I placed the phone on the bed while I packed most of everything displayed along the bathroom counter.

        I flinched at a deep thud like something was being hit. "If you don't give me that money, I'ma find a way to that little country and rip it from you."

        "You should use that money to bail him out instead. I gotta go."

        "DON'T YOU HANG UP ON ME, IMANI!" Keyshawn started shouting in the phone. She was so loud I could feel the vibrations and her voice went in and out of the call. "Matter of fact, don't worry about coming home. Your parents gone know you out there with your little girlfriend. They gone know the preacher's daughter is a scissoring f—"

        I hung up before she could finish what she was saying. She called back so I turned off my phone and tossed it aside.

        Running my fingers through my matted hair, I lay sprawled against the soft mattress and exhaled a shaky breath through my weak lungs, fighting tears desperate to escape. I didn't have the energy to deal with Keyshawn any longer than I already had. She was like a pancake. Flip one side and she's happy and there for me as she should've been. Flip the other, and I'm the villain in her story.

        I've tried to be there for her. I've tried to forgive her as God would. I've tried so hard but it's never enough and I'm tired. Both physically and mentally.

        I was stupid to trust her with that information. With a piece of myself that I was finally able to explore without constantly hearing how unholy same-sex relations were. I feared going to hell more than anything. Being gay was the worst sin that could ever plague a religious Black household. A man could seek forgiveness and the church's support toward their abusive and provocative nature, but let one harmless person follow their heart and they're thrown to the streets.

        Don't ever let me hear that one of y'all are kissing up the same fruit-loopin' tree Eve ate from, my dad once said at the dinner table to me and my little brother Andre, once a distant cousin of his got married to a man, you can make a fool of the lord if you dare, but you sure as hell won't embarrass me in my house with this sickness the devil is seeding to test our loyalty to Christ.

        It was easy to hide because my love for both men and women was equal, but it was so hard to express that love when every chance I had I'd hear his voice in my head. Felt his eyes on my soul and his endless judgment, waiting to catch me off guard. The moment I left for college I was able to start all over; create new social accounts, meet new people, and live a seamless double life while every Sunday I'd be on my knees asking God to love me as I was made. To keep this sin from my dad or fix me so I was perfect in his image and I wouldn't go to hell when it was my time.

        I don't pray as much as I did before, but the looming fear that I was doing something wrong regardless if I wasn't, still lingered.

        I didn't have time to dwell on possible scenarios if Keyshawn was truly gone tell my parents the real reason why I was in Korea. I took a quick shower to wash every inch of stink off me and wrapped a towel around my body after drying myself off. Most of everything was packed so I grabbed whatever was folded on top to change into.

        A knock at the door startled me.

        My heart started pounding with such force that I felt it through my fingertips. I spent far too much time getting ready and packing that I forgot that even if I wasn't being followed, Dasom knew exactly where I lived. There's no telling if she figured out it was me snooping around, and after what I've witnessed, I doubt I could pretend either.

        I grabbed the hair scissors near the TV. "W-who is it?" Fear seeped into my words so I didn't sound as confident as I thought.

        "Staff member."

        A tiny woman wearing a black uniform with royal blue accents stood at the door when peeking through the peephole. Relief flourished in my system but I was still on edge. "I didn't call for any services. Did you need something?" I managed an answer.

        "Our bellboy and front desk staff reported you appeared distressed. Said you were running through the halls with only one shoe. As protocol, we are to involve ourselves and ensure our guest's safety. Ma'am, are you in need of assistance?"

        "I'm fine. Thank you."

        But that wasn't enough to make her leave. "I'm truly sorry to bother you, but I will have to visually confirm your well-being. If you refuse, I have no choice but to contact the police."

        I thought about it and the temptation left an itch behind my ear. About letting her call the police so I could easily report what I saw...but that wouldn't be smart. In truth, I knew what I saw but the context behind what happened got lost in translation. Those men could've deserved it. Dasom could be a vigilante doing the hard part because the true victims were too scared to—so I'd like to think. Aside from that, my identity wouldn't be concealed. Questioning would take more than a day, giving Dasom and her crazy ass sister more than enough time to catch me, and I needed to catch my flight within a few hours.

        The smartest choice was to go through with the wellness check. Let her see that I wasn't in any danger. At least, not yet.

        "Just a minute!"

        I took one last peek to ensure there wasn't a weapon held against her head before rushing to fix myself up in the oval-shaped mirror built into the wall just down the short hall. I still looked a sweaty mess despite taking a shower. Still dehydrated despite chugging down a water bottle. Still exhausted despite having some downtime. There were random cuts along my arms, thin enough to go unnoticed, and a bruise coloring around my knee that was currently bleeding—something I hadn't noticed until now. Aside from that, I looked normal. Nothing to warrant getting the police involved.

        Opening the door, my eyes adjusted from the tiny woman to another figure standing in her place. My breath caught in my lungs when registering it was my girlfriend, Dasom.

         She stood with her arms locked behind her back, her head slightly tilted as her eyes ravished me from head to toe. No detail was wasted. I knew just by the light in her brown eyes that she liked what she saw, and I hated the way my body fed on that reaction. The tiniest speck of excitement rushed through my system like dopamine amidst the fear that took hold of me.

        The staff member stood aside with two other figures accompanying Dasom. She scurried away with a quick bow after sending me an apologetic look. I'd been tricked.

        I swallowed thickly and managed a small smile that possibly had me looking constipated. I wanted to pretend nothing happened. Just until her guard was down and I could escape to the airport, but I knew deep down that she figured out it was me who was where I wasn't supposed to be. Her piercing gaze was too intimidating, I didn't know where to look. My eyes naturally lowered every once in a while.

        Licking her lips into a tasteful smile, Dasom stepped forward the second I staggered back. "Hello, Imani. Mind if I come in?"

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

— Dasom's POV next :)  Dnt kill me for the cliffhanger <3

— Also updated an update schedule that I'd 'like' to stick with ; every other weekend, random times.
If the chapter is ready ahead of time or I'm impatient to wait then I'll post it early, if I don't make the usual update schedule then it happens. Know I'm doing my best bts. This chapter is early cause I'll be busy this weekend due to competitions and just wanted it out.