I HATE IT HERE

Deep breath: it will be over before you know it. This mantra repeats inside my head as I grasp the door, while playing a treacherous balancing game with my laundry basket. Sending up one last prayer, I swung the door open with more force than I intended. The result is a resounding smack as it ricochets back, sending my basket and me tumbling into the room. When I glance up, I’m met with every occupant’s gaze as I struggle to right myself. Suddenly I’m surrounded, it’s feeding time in the lion den and I’m the prey.

“We’ve got ourselves a looker, here boys.” One-man states while yanking my palm to his sun cracked lips.

“Let go of me.” I shouted, trying to evade the men’s hands.

“Eeeiiiii” I cry out as I feel several hands grope my body.

"Get your hands off her!"

The voice belongs to King Arthur himself as he rides upon his white horse to save the damsel from distress. The man easily towers over my 5’2 frame. I peer up at him from behind my lashes as tears leak out. The stranger is still looking me in the eye, waiting for a response. The men that were harassing me retreat to escape his ferocity. A quick glance over shows them eyeing me down. They’re like wolves waiting for my defenses to be down before they strike.

"Ma’am?" I hear as he gently pries the basket from my death grip.

"Yes," I squeak out as he strides to an open space among the washers.

He says something else, but I’m too busy praising his existence to respond. My admiration quickly turns to dread as he goes to load the washer.

"I can do it!" I screech out as I rush forward to save my dignity and hamper.

"Finally got your attention; now how many baskets do you have?"

"Just two more by the red car," I say, pointing in the direction of my vehicle.

As he walks off, suddenly I’m hit by the stench of weeks old bread and fabric softener. I quickly stuff all my delicate garments into the machine before he returns. When I'm about halfway through the hamper, I get a chill down my spine. Throwing caution to the wind, I cast a glance over my shoulder and notice the four men, piercing me with their shameful gazes. One looks at me dead in the eye then blatantly strokes his privates. Another seeing me alone starts to make his way in my direction. Petrified with fear, I tossed my remaining items into the washer and slammed the door closed. Hearing the door lock, I spin around with the intention of fleeing to the safety of my car. The world shifts as I encounter the brute force of a wall that sends me tumbling back against the washers.

"Are you okay? "Where are you going like the devil is after you?"

The handsome stranger is back, reaching out his hand to get me back on my feet. Standing upright, I’m embraced by his scent of cloves, oil, and a deep amber musk that calms my galloping heart.

“What’s your name?" I ask softly.

"Please forgive me." "My name is David, ma'am."

"Kae," I say while giving him a small smile.

David’s sudden arrival almost makes me forget the deviants still leering in my direction. Trying to hide myself, I take a step to the side to be completely unseen in front of David’s towering frame. I hoped David would mistake my shifting weight, but I’m met with a stern face and stern voice.

"Did they try anything?"

"No, they just make me uncomfortable, I hate coming to laundry mats due to all the people and the staring."

"Staring?" he asks, looking over my figure.

He probably thinks I’m being vain, but it’s not like that. I just really can’t stand it when people look at me. I’m no supermodel, and while I may be short in stature, I sure enough can fill out a t-shirt and jeans. The x-large sweats gripping my waist and hips can attest to that.

"Look, I’m super introverted, and the last place I want to be is here, but my washer decided she had her last hurrah two weekends ago. My apartment has been slow about replacing her, so here I am at the crack of dawn trying to wash some clothes with minimal human interaction." I huff.

He bellows out a laugh then glances at his watch.

"If you wanted to miss the people, 8:30 isn't really that early. “He smarts back at me.

I pursed my lips and gave him the stink eye.

"Well, it is for me," I snark out.

"Let me help you get these washers loaded, and then I'll show you a good hiding spot."

The time passes quickly with his help, and before I know it, he pelts me in the face with his overshirt. Normally I would be raging up a storm, but his shirt is covered in his scent, so I let this transgression pass.

"Put that on; with you being so small, it should go past your knees."

I go to give him another glare but almost choke on my own saliva. There is a god, and he wears a white wife beater! Trying to play it cool, I pulled on his overshirt to give me a chance to hide my now crimson cheeks. He takes my arm in his grasp and uses his body as a shield when we pass the men. Just when we’re home free I hear.

“Catch you next time, Sweetie.” The men bark out at me.

David, ever the gentleman, leads me around to a little corner hidden from view. The second I sit down; I feel a rumbling against my thigh. I searched my pants frantically and pulled out my phone.

"This is Kay," I say as Landlord flashes across my phone.

The conversation is brief, but by the end I’m beaming and shoot David with a triumphant grin.

"Congratulations!" he says.

Still staring at the striking man who saved me, I whisper "Maybe I don’t hate it here."

Shaylai K Turner is a recent creative writing graduate from Full Sail University. Being an avid reader, she often found herself wishing to see more stories with characters she could relate to physically. Her goal is to write more stories featuring people of color. While she has love for reading and writing, she often enjoys concerts, k-dramas, and fishing in her pastime.