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 eeling 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.