A pure Soul

1.

Info: Cursive writing is someone's thoughts 

Pov: Author

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in Seoul, the city was full of people, they laughed, went shopping or eat something and in between all of this chaos was a lonely soul, in both of his hands he hold bags filled with groceries he had just bought. The bags were nearly as big as his whole chest and his hands were burning from all the heavy lifting he had to do, but no one noticed his struggles, it was as if he is invisible for everyone else in this world. 

But he understood, why would anyone care for him? They had enough problems on their own, not needing another one. They had never noticed and they won't ever. He had come to peace with this thought. Every step he took made him feel more exhausted and every breeze that hit his face and small hands felt even colder than the one before.

As he reached the district of Seoul, which he had to call home, he felt not even relieved, knowing very well he wouldn't be back in the warmth of their apartment for another half an hour. First he had to run to a small shop in the direct opposite side of his 'home', he hated to call this dirty little apartment he lived in his home, but there was nothing he could do about it, he has no money and the only family he has, is his alcoholic father he lived with. Deep in his thoughts he didn't noticed he was already at his destination which led him to nearly walk past it. The ugly run down shop had holes in the walls and one of it's windows was a bit shattered and only a cardboard placed over the broken glass kept the wind out of the store. As he walked to the counter, he felt discomfort knowing very well that soon the shop owner would come back from wherever he was. The boy wasn't someone to judge easily and he always tried to be respectful towards everyone, but this man he disliked a lot, because his personality was ugly, he sells drugs, legal as well as illegal to underaged people, he himself is the proof for this crime... He is only 17, and he had to go shopping for himself and mostly his father for now eight years, he was in here the first time to buy alcohol when he just turned nine years old.

„Jimin how are you sweetie?", a voice reached his small ears and brought him out of his thoughts back to reality. He shuddered at the last word „Fine", is all he said before laying the alcohol bottles on the counter. „You know Jimin my offer is still on the table, you do this one thing  for me and you don't need to pay today.", there was the smile on his lips again, the smile he hated and made him feel sick. Jimin would never take this offer, he would never let this man touch him, especially not in the way this man wanted to touch him. He would never use his body as a payment. 

Without a word he puts the money on the counter, the man in front of him looked annoyed but took the money in the end and as soon as he got the change back he was out of there.

Jimin started to run as soon as he was out of  the store and only stopped once he was around the next corner. 

Pov. Jimin

As soon as I had brought enough distance between me and the store I carefully put down the groceries. As I was catching my breath, I opened my small palms and looked at the red stripes, which were shown. Aishhh, I whined in my head. I looked around a bit and noticed it was already getting dark, how late was it?  Now I was looking at the back of my hands, were an old watch was located, it was the watch my mother gave me when she was still alive, it wasn't much but for me it was enough to remember her. 

My eyes widened when it read 19:23, how could it be this late already? I should be back home at 19:30... With terror in my eyes I start to run towards our apartment.  I not only thought about all the punishments my father, will come up with if I am to late. But it was also dangerous to be outside in this district, when the sun sets. This is the part of Seoul where the poor and criminal live. Most police officers here are corrupted and those, who aren't don't live long enough to make a change. The people in charge of this district aren't politicians but the mafia. I have been lucky enough to never encounter any of the leaders and if I am honest I don't even know what they look like, but I am definitely not trying to find out. 

The streets are quiet and empty, I was hoping to met no person at all but sadly this wish wasn't granted. On the other side of the street was a tall man wearing expensive looking clothes, all in black his whole presence was saying "I am rich" and "I have authority", he seemed to be deep in his thoughts his face was emotionless and his eyes were focused towards the ground.

He must be crazy to walk down this street in these kind of clothes, which technically scream "I AM RICH". As on cue a man came out of an dark alley, the taller man had just walked by. Now I focused on the new man, his clothes were old, ripped and dirty, he had a long beard and a big scar went over his whole left cheek. He seemed more fitting to live around here. 

My eyes widened in shook when I realized a big knife in the back pocket of his Jeans.

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1052 words

First of all thanks for reading this story, I wanna apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I am not a native speaker but I try my best to give you a rather good reading experience. I am not a very fast writer so I apologize beforehand for my slow updates!

Have a very nice day/night