Behave

I expected to see the girl again the next evening, but she never appeared again. I asked the boss about her, but he can never seem to figure out who I’m talking about.
But one night after work, while I’m on my way to the market to run some quick errands, I see the girl with a pair of boys, smoking off in an alley. I decide not to go talk to her, since I don’t really know her and the boys she’s with look bad news. I go inside, grab the things I need, and walk out. Just as I reach the sidewalk, the girl walks right up to me.
“Hey,” she says, with smoke rolling off her tongue.
I stop, “Hi…”
“Where’re you off to?”
“Home, actually,” I say, starting to walk my way again.
She suddenly blocks me and then the boys corner me in. She sees the fright in my face and laughs.
“Don’t be scared. We’re friendly people,” she stammers, trying not laugh, “Come with us. We’re off to have some fun.”
“No thanks,” I voice, “I’m going.”
I try again to slip away, but the girl puts her arm over my shoulder, locking me to her side. She drags me the opposite way and puts her cigarette to her purple lips.
“We’re going to a club. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
I struggle to pull away, but I’m not getting anywhere. After walking down the dark alleyway, she pushes me into a scruffy looking place, perking with neon lights. The girl tears my bag away.
“Hey, give that back!” I shout over the deafening music.
“Relax, will you!” she says, “Have something to drink.”
She’s being ridiculous. I don’t want to be here. I turn back to the door, but there’s a big fellow intimidating anyone who tries to escape. The strange girl then hands me a drink and gets one for herself. She gulps hers down. She grabs my arm, pulling me in the crowd of loose fraudulent bodies.
“I love this song!” she says.
I pull my hand back and turn to where we came from. But I suddenly catch a pair of eyes stabbing right through me at the very end of the club. His menacing look scares me more than anything. My spine shivers endlessly. I wish I could look away, but my legs are planted into the ground and my eyes strain to see through the darkness and the neon lights. After being pushed around by dancing bodies, I tear away and head to the exit for another attempt. I squeeze in between everybody, keeping my eyes on the door. I finally get out. The coolness of the night smacks me and dries the sweat off my forehead. I take in deep breaths, thirsty for clean air. Before I can take a last sigh, someone comes out the door too. I try not to look back and walk back to where I should be. But a voice springs up.
“What’s a wholesome girl like you doing in a junkyard like this?”
I hear a lighter flick and smell antagonizing smoke. I turn around slowly, hoping whoever’s there won’t hurt me. It’s the guy who was staring at me earlier. I get a better view of his face. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are like blades. His lips suck on the cigarette, letting smoke escape his nostrils. His brows lower as I return his gaze.
“I’m leaving,” I mutter like a scared mouse.
His cheek twitches, “You can’t leave now. You didn’t have fun yet.”
I don’t bother getting into a conversation with this lean stranger. I walk away. But I hear his manly footsteps follow closely behind.
“So where are you going?”
I notice he has a foreign accent, similar to the girl who brought me here against my will. I don’t talk and fold my arms across my chest. I want to scream.
“So you're not going to talk, huh?” he asks, “Don’t think a punk like me’s worth your time?”
His voice is so deep as it rings in my ears.
“Please, just leave me alone,” I plead, not looking at him.
“Alright. I guess you don’t want this back,” he says, intriguing me.
I stop in my tracks and look back to what he’s talking about. He holds up my bag that the girl stole from me. I give him a surprised look.
“Give that back!” I demand.
He lifts my bag out of my reach.
“Don’t fret, I will. But before I do, tell me your name,” he says.
I hesitate and say, “Livia.”
He hands me my bag. I feel relieved. But the smirk on his face tells me I shouldn’t be.
I take a step back.
“What?” I mumble.
“I have your phone and your keys. I won’t give those back so easily.”
I frown. Whatever. I have a spear key under the carpet at my door and I can always get a new phone. I really need to get away from this guy.
“I don’t care,” I say and walk away.
Thankfully he doesn’t follow me. I try and find my way around in the dark. I begin jogging back to my apartment, feeling safer. I bend down to the small rug at my door and lift it. That’s where I leave a spear key. My breath is cut short when I don’t see the metal stick. I panic, shaking my head.
“What the…” I squeal to myself, “No way, no way.”
I descend the mailboxes by the entrance. Perhaps I left it there. I stick my hand in the mailbox and it’s still not there. This is impossible. Since day one, I left my spear key under the mat. How is it not there now that I need it? I go back to my floor and try shaking the handle open. It’s locked shut. I slap my hand on my sweaty head. What am I going to do?

He’s where I left him. He sees me coming.
“Oh, look whose back,” he winks.
“I want my stuff back,” I say stiffly.
“I thought you didn’t care,” he smokes.
I should have called the police on this guy. But, he has my phone too.
“What do you want?”
He takes a moment to drag the drug into his lungs and let it escape his mouth. Then, he takes a step closer, never looking away from me.
“I want you.”