Prelude

Vanity mirror, hands trembling and caged heart pounding, begging to be tamed, begging for an escape that will never come. 

I took turns in using random beauty products. My parted lips welcomed the hue of red lipstick, gone was its pale color and now looked like dried blood in which my dripping heart vomited. My lashes grew longer through each glide of mascara, enough to add life into the dead night that my eyes resembled. Dark shameless spots of imperfection hid beneath my concealer and yet another shade of eyeshadow made my eyes appear livelier than my life would ever be. 

Ironic how the mirror in front me says pretty but my heart feels ugly, proves how satisfaction and self love isn't defined by a mere reflection but starts from within. Sadly, it was something I forbid myself to have.

Little red dress revealed my thick thighs and lower butt. Cleavage sneaking through its low neckline and shoulders bare through its thin straps. An ample amount of flesh revealing enough to attract beasts that roar and drool in lust. I am a prey to feed their libido, a taste to their hungry and deadly desires.

The long and short hands of the clock met at 12, an indication to my inevitable doom.

My high heels click clacked through the floor. There were endless sighs before my wobbly fingers gripped the door knob open. An enormous and loud feast welcomed the harlot. Flickering colors of red light, rumbling music, a large stage with poles in the middle and faces unknown to me. They were all for me. 

Deafening cheers welcomed me upon stepping on the platform. My eyes stared yonder. The people before me are worshipping the queens of their sexual desires, their eyes are glimmering in adoration but would never show the hidden instinct of wrath.

The sound of cheers became consuming. Lump of regret grew in my throat and suffocated me like a never ending choke. River of fear and self-pity flowed on my pink tinted cheeks. Shame crawled every layer of my skin with each stare from the crowd.

Starting through the thighs and hips, I moved sexually like a vixen wagging her tail. Each second is a tease to their desires, the kind to make them want a taste of my flesh. 

Half through the dance and I was demanded to go towards a particular table. I did as I was told. Freedom has long abandoned me and he had took dignity with him. 

An old man smiled at me. His hair were all grey and his forehead was wrinkled. Evidences of age were plastered in his face yet the only thing that remains bright is the never fading streak of his golden necklace and watch. 

His eyes lingered through me and they scream hunger. His wide grin resembled a beast in disguise ready to devour. I stood in front of him, still yet trembling like a vulnerable and flightless prey. 

He pulled me closer to his lap. His mouth devoid of color met my lipstick stained lips. I grimaced for he tasted like cigar and vodka. Cold and wrinkled hands travelled my body. I flinched when his hands searched places beneath my dress. His mouth would mount to my chest then back to my lips. I tasted salt beneath the kiss and figured it was my own tears. 

Every second tormented me. Every touch made me want to protest. I wanted him to stop, I wanted to run away but I didn't. The protests and screams were all swallowed up and turned into a silent sob instead. 

When he was happy, when he was satisfied and fully pleasured, when I fed his hunger, he told me to leave. I walked away, leaving regrets and self pity behind, and bringing only a pack of cash with me.

I have so long wanted to escape but the privilege of choice isn't for anyone. 

"I told you stop doing it.." The faint note of hysteria in his voice made heart clench.

My eyes trailed the golden hair and the blood-like lips of a man who didn't seem to age by time. With his ethereal beauty, he seemed eternally youthful.

"I'm not. I'm not doing it anymore." I searched his eyes and tried to convince him.

His pair of orbs were glinting with upcoming tears. I held his cheeks. My frail fingers felt tender against the hard structure of his prominent jaw and cheekbones. Our heavy breaths became in synch like a sad yet beautiful melody. 

"I'm fine. I have escaped already." I told him with a bit sense of pride.

"You did?" 

I nodded.

His tears streamed down his cheeks. I drew his face closer to mine as he shut his eyes in attempt to prevent the burst of emotions. 

"I'm all okay now. We can leave and be happy." My voice shivered.

"Where do you want to go?" A ghost of smile painted across his lips. 

"To Busan, perhaps? To your good old summer house?"

"We'll leave, then."

"Really?" I asked breathily, letting excitement fill my heart.

"Yes."

It was late when I reached Busan the next day. Near its breath taking coastline, the waves are forever reaching the shore and the moon above sent crystal-like glimmers atop the pristine wasters. 

He came and looked at me with fondness of summer sky despite the current air around us, cold and ruthless. Warmth of the morning is nearing yet it seems forever unreachable. 

"The sky is pretty, right?" I broke the silence.

"Yeah." He laughed.

"But you're prettier." Then he added.

"Oh, quit the jokes." 

"Yes, you are the radiance of the stars and all the cosmic bodies combined."

My lips curved for the sudden use of metaphors.

"I'm really happy here. With you." I gazed up at him.

He nodded quietly.

"We should grab a ramyeon and some soju. I know the old Karaoke house, it's still alive. We could get drunk for a while then sing there. Like old times! I remember you singing to a kpop girl group's song. What is it again?"

"As if it's your last!"

"Majimakcheoreom." I sang.

"What do you say?"

"Yeah. That'd be fun. Let's grab a ramyeon?" He offered a hand. I gladly accepted and we trailed the shore back to my car in entwined hands.

Half through the walk when he stopped. 

"But you know morning has to come, right?" He asked with a bit of concern.

I nodded and gave a reassuring smile.

"Of course. I know."