15: A SERIES OF BAD DECISIONS

"Mystline," by Nujabes

                “Uwa, Naeil-ah, you were right. What in the world is going on here?”

                Sungchul and Naeil stood to the side of the church as people filed out, peering up at the window Naeil had pointed out. Sure enough, the figures of men could be seen, barely visible but undeniably there.

                “They can’t really be here because of Pastor Lee, right?” asked Naeil anxiously.

                “I…don’t think so. I don’t know. Could it possibly be a misunderstanding?”

                “Well…”

                “I’m going over there.”

                “What?!”

                “You were thinking about doing it too.”

                “Maybe. But, oppa—”

                “Stay here and keep an eye on things in case something goes wrong.”

                “But—”

                “I’ll be right back, okay?” he said, jogging backwards. “I’m just going to ask why they’re here! Nothing hostile.”

                Naeil’s head fell into her hands. Crap. Bad decision, Naeil. Bad decision. Now Sungchul is going to get beat up by gangsters.

                When she heard the sounds of door hinges creaking across the street, Naeil peered out between her fingers. Sungchul disappeared into the old metal door. It had been unlocked. That wasn’t a good sign, was it?

                Naeil waited a full minute (or at least what felt like a full minute, which probably meant it was more like fifteen seconds) before crossing the street. She tried to look up into the window but couldn’t tell if anything had changed.

                A grim question faced Naeil at that door: go inside, or not?

                She hadn’t even put her hand on the handle yet, and her heartrate was running away with her rationality. Bad decision, Naeil. Bad decision.

                Naeil opened the door and crept inside.

                The musty waft of the building attacked Naeil’s senses like a tsunami wave. Old plaster, dead rodent, rotting wallpaper, cockroach poop, and general decay filled her nostrils and made her head swim. Naeil was thankful for the cold concrete floors, only because they didn’t creek as she tiptoed through the first floor in search of a stairway. It was in the back; a narrow passageway with small metal stairs. Naeil listened for signs of Sungchul or anyone else but heard nothing. Her destination was floor three. Naeil began climbing.

                Higher and higher she climbed, until her ears began to detect the tiniest hints of sound from somewhere up above. When the third-floor door became visible, Naeil could clearly hear the sound of low voices and feet shuffling.

                The door was barely cracked open when she reached it. The room looked dark, so that the people inside were barely visible.

                “No, no—” Sungchul’s voice. “I’m not—”

                “You made the wrong choice coming here if you didn’t come to talk.” A stranger’s voice, raspy and harsh, maybe satoori. [Satoori=a Korean dialect/accent].

                “But I don’t know what you mean.”

                “Then you’re really worthless to us, aren’t you?” This voice made Naeil shudder. It wasn’t deep at all, but pinched and slithery.

                “Look, I just wanted to know if we could discuss things like—”

                “It doesn’t matter anymore,” said the second voice. “If you have nothing to offer, we’re done.”

                “Should I?” Was it a new voice or the first one? Naeil couldn’t tell. How many of those men were there?

                “Go ahead.”

                Go ahead with what—?

                The sound of a gun cocking made every muscle in Naeil’s body go ridged. God, he has a gun. Oh my God, he has a gun.

                “Wait—but—”

                Naeil could see Sungchul as he stepped backwards, finally in her line of sight from the doorway. His hands were up in that useless, helpless way that showed just how defenseless he was. His face was only halfway visible. She didn’t need to see it all to realize he was terrified. Sungchul was terrified.

                What do I do? What do I do? How many are there?

                Naeil took out her cellphone and began to dial 119. She hesitated before pressing the call button.

                After that day, Naeil could never say what part of her brain, logical, subconscious, or instinctive, made her fling the door open and charge inside. It couldn’t have been the logical part, because running into a room with gangsters and guns was definitely not the best decision she’d ever made.

                As soon as she stumbled inside, her mind scrambled to register everything in the room. A clicking sound: another gun had cocked and now two were pointed at her. They were in the hands of two tall men in black clothing, one large and muscular, the other thinner but wiry and by no means small. They had faces that looked as hard as stone and eyes as empty as a desert. The room offered few possible escapes except for the door she had come through and some windows…which were bolted shut.

                Finally her eyes settled on Sungchul. He had never looked at her like that in all the time they had known each other: horrified just at the sight of her. He was saying something—“Naeil-ah, God, Naeil-ah, why are you here?”

                It was a good question: now it was two against two, but it was two guns against two unarmed civilians with minimal martial arts skills.

                “Who is she?” asked the thinner of the two men. He had the slithery voice.

                “She’s just a girl,” said Sungchul. “She’s so young. Please, let her go.”

                “Your sister?”

                “Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

                It made Naeil snap back into reality. She held her phone up, thumb hovering over the call button.

                “I will call them,” said Naeil. “You can shoot me, but they’ll hear the sound. They’ll come.”

                “You do that,” said the muscular man with a grin.

                Something about his smile made Naeil hesitate. Why didn’t he seem worried at all? ‘The police couldn’t care less about this whole thing.’ Yoongi’s words came back to her. Naeil looked from face to face, hand trembling no matter how hard she tried to stop it.

                “We’ll have to shoot her too, now, won’t we?” asked the muscular man thoughtfully.

                “Yes. We will.”

                “You’re not even worried about police? Fine, we’ll see what happens! You shoot! I’ll dial! We’ll—”

                Naeil heard footsteps pounding up the stairs behind her. The two men noticed the sound a moment later and pointed their guns toward the empty entryway. Naeil started to turn around, but a hand stopped her, slipping the cellphone out of her hand and pulling her back by the wrist. A boy in a black hoodie stepped in front of her. He held up his other hand, the one that wasn’t holding her—it was wrapped around a cocked handgun.

                “I haven’t forgotten,” rasped Yoongi through pants of breath. “Not the things I saw, not the things I did. And I can never forget how to use this.”

Author’s Note

MUAHAHAHAHAHA I’M HAVING TOO MUCH FUN WITH MYSELF.

At this point it almost doesn’t matter if no one else is entertained by this story, because evidently I’m entertaining myself. ButwaitmaybeishouldntsaythatILOVEYOURCOMMENTSILIVEOFFOFREADERSUPPORT

It would be great if judo was affective in defending against guns, but I heard it isn’t always super effective sooooooooooo…………….

Next week is going to be really rough for me, and since finals are approaching for some of us, I think I’m going to hold up on updates for a while until school gets out, probably around December 21st, but I can't be sure. I wish everyone luck on their studies!!!!!!!!!!!!