Joule

Awakening

I was seveteen. It was new years. In those days I was called Park Jun

Ho and I was one of the most awkward boys in the Mitsuhama Seattle
School. The company new years party was a large event and my parents
insisted everything was perfect. They truely believed that if they were model
enough citizens that the glass cieling that everyone that wasn't
Japaneese stood beneath would give way and the would ascend the corperate
ladder. 

My mother, Lee Hye Li, had boughten an expensive Vashion Island dress

for the event and she looked positively radiant. I spent the evening in
the corner pretending to read Queen Euphoria again. I knew this would
earn me a stern lecture later from my father, Park Hyo Won, but I didn't
care. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her dress was red and
shimmered just slightly, just dull enough to allow the jeweled earrings she
wore to sparkle and draw attention to her face, which was elegantly
painted complete with red lipstick that made everthing she said seem
importaint. As I sat captivated by her beauty I realised what I was feeling
was not a typical boy's responce to a beautiful woman. I wanted to know
what it was like to be that elegant and beautiful. There was a certain
commanding power to it, but with a soft grace that was unlike anything
I'd ever imagined. I wanted to be her.

For weeks the image of it haunted me. I couldn't pay attention in

school. I was overcome with longing to be beautiful myself, if only for a
moment. So one day when I found myself alone I tiptoed into the closet
and slipped into the red dress. I needed to put toilet paper in a brasier
to make it fit right, but we weren't as different in size as one might
imagine. If I scrunched my feet up I could fit into a pair of her
shoes. It was painful, but it felt divine. Then it was to the bathroom
mirror to paint my face. Looking back I'm certain the makeup was blotchy
and amature, even with my talent for caligraphy and other painting, but I
felt like I'd seen myself for the first time. I knew then that this
was who I was and I could be nothing else. I was awestruck. I longed for
the earrings. I began searching for a sewing needle. And that's when
the door opened.

My father walked in and found me crammed into that dress and those

shoes and was furious. He ranted on how I was too old for such games, and
how I needed to think about my future. I tried to explain that I wasn't
playing, that I was thinking about the future, and that was the wrong
thing to say. His anger grew. He tried to convince me that we weren't in
a position to have such luxuries. That I would destroy his career and
disgrace the family name. But I couldn't conciede, not when I'd just
found myself. The arguement became violent. He was saying something about
making a man of me when he threw the punch. When I thought of him
destroying my beautiful face that I'd just found I knew I had to fight
back, and I did, in a flash of lightning he fell. His blood splashed on my
hands and he slumped to the ground lifelessly. 

I paniced and did the only thing I could think to do, I ran. I knew

mother would be home, the athorities would be called and my life would be
over. Several blocks down the road I found myself in a public restroom
trying to scrub the blood off my hands. That's where I met him. He was
the quintessential tall dark and handsome man. I was a tearstained
mess. He came to the sink next to me "Hello, lady McBeth," he greeted me.
He seemed warm and unphased. I was appauled to meet this handsome
stranger like that and it was more than I could handle. I broke down and
began blubbering on how I'd killed my father, how I had nowhere to go, and
nobody could understand me. "No I get it, you like Gucci, and only
Prada would do," he responded smiling like movie star. Somehow I managed to
thank him and not stand there in shock. I washed the tears from my
face and finally got the blood out from beneath my fingernails and he and
I went out for drinks and dancing. I cringe to think what a sight
we must have been, me in a shimmering gown with no makeup, a fat lip,
and feet swolen from wearing shoes three sizes too small, him
picturesce and drawing every eye in the place as he always did. But I didn't
notice that night. He was the first man to ever treat me like a lady and
to my mind there was nobody else that mattered that night. We went to a
wonderful night club on the edge of Redmond called The Edge, that was
elegant with floors and walls and tables that shone like polished marble
and would make many a coorperate boardroom jealous and fantastic
colored lights that reflected everywhere. It is the sort of swank place
where us coorperate folk dream of escaping for the evening when who knows
what dangerous shadowrunners you might mingle with. It was in fact a
perfect night.

We went back to his place, a sleesy hotel in Redmond and after a

wonderful intimate evening, I was introduced to the people that would teach
me to be an adept. Soon the sleesy hotel was home. This man was indeed
prince charming and I was Cinderella, sure this wasn't much of a castle,
but he had given me more than I could have imagined. He gave me
recognition, respect and a new life. He showed me how I could be treated and
from that moment forth I would accept nothing less.