Runaway Curtains

1. South Korea

I know all I have to know to be here.

I proudly pat my luggage, a big smug smile stretched across my face as I take a deep breath and get on the bus.

Rule Number One: Always stay alert.

"Miss? Hello? Your stop is here! Hell-"

I wake up with a start, teeth rattling only for me to realise someone has been violently shaking me as if with the intention to make my bones slip out of my flesh.

Wiping drool off my chin, I give a sheepish smile as I bow politely and begin to collect my luggage. I hear the man mutter angrily, but I let it slide and begin to climb down.

The cool night breeze greets my skin, wrapping around my body like a giant airy hug and I cheerfully hum, making my way through the dark street.

Rule Number Two: Always seem confident.

I nervously sweep my shaky eyes across the dark street, a few drunkards stumbling out of a bar and odd looking people passing by. My heart begins to pound in my throat, an unsettling feeling rising in my chest as I realise I don't know my way around here and I should definitely not be alone.

As I grow increasingly fearful of the consequences, I stumble over something and fall, but I catch myself and am on my feet again. However, this little trip has caught unwanted attention and I see a man sneer at me as he walks by. I try to smile, but my cheeks quiver nervously and my legs are trembling.

Dear Lord, where am I?

Okay, good. I see a cab. I must catch one and run to the nearest guest house I know. I nod to myself, take a long, deep breath to reinforce some courage and I amble awkwardly to the cab.

Before I get there, my vision is blocked. The cab is no more, I see black. I have run face-forward into someone's hairy chest.

Ew, what the heck?

I make a disgusted face and back off, eyes darting to meet with the man that gives me a skin-crawling smile. "Hello, sweetie. You new around here?"

Rule Number Three: Never speak to strangers unnecessarily.

"Excuse me, Sir. I have a cab to catch." I try to run, but I'm pulled back like a whiplash against his smelly, hairy chest again.

"What's the hurry, little one?"

Ew, isn't that what Thanos called Gamora? That's disgusting. I hate Thanos.

"The hurry is that I don't know you so I must not tell you what the hurry is," I reply plainly before I pull the luggage from over my shoulders to the front of my body to protect me.

With a sinking heart, I find myself being backed into an alley that disconnects itself from the main street and turns away into more dark alleys and small buildings.

I look up at him, clinging to my bag for dear life as I see a flash of his rotten, decaying teeth in between his hyena smiles.

What's he so happy about in a world so miserable? He hasn't stopped smiling once, and it's kinda annoying to know this lousy, probably homeless bum has a better life than I.

I come back to the present and allow him to corner me, sweat running down my temple. "Wanna play?" he rumbles hoarsely and his stanky ass makes me wanna puke.

I want to speak, but my tongue lies in my mouth like a dead fish. Merely blinking, I manage to muster, "Play what?"

My eyes snap to my shoulder where I feel his hand rub in circles and my eyebrows instantly pull together. I aim a kick in his balls, but as you would suspect and have already guessed..

Yep, you're right. I'm not the smartest person on the streets.

I miss terribly and he dodges well, next thing I know he's got another hand on me and by this time adrenaline is pumping aggressively in my veins.

OKay, if I land just one good kick in his crotch, I shall treat myself to some good burger from some good trash can from some good McDonald's from around some good street, at least by next week. Hopefully I survive my first day on the streets.

I nod to my pep-talk eagerly, building the courage as I inhale deeply and curl my fingers into a firm fist.

I shoot it in his face and my knee follows into his balls, whatever half-assed massage he was giving my shoulder stops and if I didn't know he was a drunkard from the streets, I would have totally assumed he's a wolf howling on a cliff.

He thuds to the ground, grabbing onto his nuts and scrambling into the wall to get a time-out. This is no time to celebrate, because his howling of agony brings more people to the scene.

I feel like I'm in the Walking Dead and he's a walker. He made one sound, and suddenly there are some predators interested in finding me too.

I have begun to run, gasping for air, sweating bullets and wishing hard to find some place I can rest for some time.

My knees are shaking, and just as I'm about to turn the corner and disappear, a pair of hands grab my shoulders and with a hand quickly blocking the shocked squeal that was about to escape my lips... I'm dragged into a building's dark and dingy lobby.

"Shh, I'm a friend."