Autumn Angel | JHS ✔

.four.

I should have taken the bus.

It's the only thought that's going through my mind now as I walk through an empty alley way of Seoul. By now, the conversations with Hoseok from merely a couple of minutes ago feel like a distant memory, and my mind can only focus on the suffocating darkness of the night. I hear my heartbeat and can feel my chest move up and down with each pump of my heart. 

The yellow light spills into the tight space, cars occasionally parked parallel to the buildings, and trash is thrown around everywhere. With each crevice I see, I feel like a pair of eyes are watching. I'm tempted to keep my head down so that the demons don't taunt me further, but I know I have to remain alert now that I wasn't in the safest place in the world. 

Each step taken by my sneakers echoes in my ears and I'm fully aware of my heavy breathing. My head continues to swivel back and forth as I search for any intruding eyes staring without permission. I try to slow down my breathing and turn my head around once more, scanning the area. I was close to my apartment building. Just a little longer. 

A group of guys are walking towards me on the other side of the alley. My heartbeat somehow manages to speed up even more and I drop my gaze, trying to walk nonchalantly past them. My feet continue to move but I feel their heavy gazes land on my dark skin, still very apparent even in the dimmer lighting. 

Even with my head down, even as I walk past them, I feel them then shift their gazes from my overall skin tone and travel from my hair down to my toes. I shudder from the weight of their stares and quicken my pace slightly. When they don't say the usual pick-up lines I'm familiar with, I'm still on edge but have relaxed a little more. Too soon. I let down my guard too soon. 

Behind my own heavy breathing, I hear the footsteps of someone else and I largen my strides. I try to slyly turn my head to confirm my suspicions but my thick curls block my peripheral view. It doesn't matter. My suspicions are confirmed another way. 

"Hey!" 

I nearly jump ten feet in the air, although I was already expecting one of them to say something. I ignore the men and continue walking. 

"Hey!" 

I scream when a hand grabs my wrist and try to escape the grasp. But the grip is strong and when I turn around, an older man grins down at me, his features blurred and unclear from the dark lighting of the alley. Two of his friends stand beside him, the same expression on their faces. I'm tempted to drop my gaze but instead force myself to stare him square in the face. 

I should have taken the bus. 

"Don't you know to stop if you're getting called to? Did your mom ever teach you any manners?" 

"Probably not," one of his friends beside him answers. "Those Black people are all uneducated and mannerless anyway." 

"Don't be too mean now," the third one says. 

"Whatever. It's not like she can understand Korean anyway." 

The three of them laugh and I'm hit with the smell of alcohol. Drunk. But clearly sober enough. Any words or actions from them are still by their own will. 

By now, these interactions are so frequent I know exactly what to do and how to act. So I just continue to stare straight into the eyes of the guy still gripping my wrist, refusing to show fear or submission. I needed to tell them I would not be an easy target. 

"Where's your boyfriend, pretty girl? You shouldn't be walking around alone at night with breasts like yours." 

I have more curves than the skinnier frames most Asians tend to have because of my African roots. I know that. And I've hated myself the moment I realized how much of a disadvantage they were in my everyday life. Other girls praised me, said they envied me. I told them I would gladly trade. I would gladly trade not having the most desirable body for not constantly looking over my shoulder or being self-conscious anytime I walked past another male.