"Y/F/N, come to the bosses office immediately." blasted out of the megaphones located around the factory I worked in. This, for anyone else, would be a normal call to see the boss, but for me, it was hell. My 40 year old boss was a pervert. And I needed money that he had. So he called me to his office every-so-often. As I said, hell.
The moment I closed the door to his room, he appeared, grinning. He didn't say anything, but simply placed his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. I could smell alcohol on his breath. It burned my nostrils, and I turned away. His hand snaked down to my rear, and he roughly squeezed it.
"How much money do ya need today, Princess?" he asked, practically sticking his nose in my ear. I flinched as he placed his other hand on my breast, before speaking, "Just £50, Sir." I replied, calmly and quickly. He grinned more, his breath blowing into my face and making me choke. I need to do this. I thought, For eomma back home. And so I looked him straight in the face, holding my breath.
Twenty minutes later, I walked out with £50 in hand, and slightly ruffled hair. He had called me once my fifteen hour shift was over, so I started walking home. I had worked since 6am that morning, and right now it was 21:23. A shorter shift than what was normal. Lucky.
Walking home, I saw a young couple. They looked sweet together, and my sight blurred as I thought of when my parents were like that. It was a long time ago, but it was still so fresh in my mind.
A small girl with h/c hair jumps into her mother's open arms. She burries herself in her mother's smell, thinking of her Dad.
"Mommy, where's Daddy? Is he working late again?" She says, looking up at the middle-aged woman in front of her. Her face is troubled, since she hasn't seen her father for a while."Yeah honey, he's making us lots of money at the store. We've just got to be patient." said the girls mother. As they speak, the door to the house opens revealing a man, not much older than the woman, with a large fuzzy ginger beard.
"Daddy!" the little girl cries, charging forward and rugby tackling her Dad. Her mum soon follows, and the three share a family hug, warming eachother.
My thoughts were cut short when I realised I had reached my house. More apartment block, but meh.
I was 21 then. The age of adulthood. Though I still looked 17 at the time. Pushing in the digits for the passcode, I opened the door to three laughing kids. The other was sleeping on the small armchair that was in the corner, facing our old-school TV. My mum was in the other room. I could smell the baby milk, so knew she was getting my youngest sister's, Haneul, milk ready. She was 3.
Then there was Bongju. He was just old enough to walk and talk, so was always running around after his older siblings. He was the one asleep. Next up was Hyegyeong. She was 6. And she was the kindest kid you could ever meet. Always saying please and thank you, honest, smart. Pretty much perfect, despite her young age. I named her. I'm proud of that. The last kid is Yeji. She's 9. Just starting to understand how shit her life is.
I walked up to my room, dropping the £50 note in a tin as I passed it. Closing the door, I shut out everything. The sounds, the feelings. Everything. Picking up the one piece of technology in the house, I get the video up. The starting notes fill my room, and I sing along, forgetting who I am, losing myself in the music.
nan sumswigo sipeo i bami silheo
ijen kkaego sipeo kkumsogi silheo
nae ane gathyeoseo nan jugeoisseo
don’t wanna be lonely
Just wanna be yours
The song goes on, and I dance with all my might. And, as it ends, a wave of dizziness makes me stumble. I fall, just seeing my mum peek her head in my room, maybe to tell me the meals ready. Her face goes worried, but then it all goes black.