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Published: February 18th 2008
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I’d been staying with a friend in Seoul, South Korea. He was teaching English there and had a flat just out of the city centre. This photo was taken near his flat one evening before we all (me and his flatmates) went out for dinner. After the meal I wasn’t feeling too great and decided to head back to his. It was only about 9pm, so he put me in a taxi and told the driver his address. But when the taxi got there the fare was about three times the amount that it had been when it took us out in the first place and I realised he was taking the piss in a big way. So I tried to contest the price with the help of my trusty phrasebook. It wasn’t going well and it turned into a bit of an argument. At this point a man in a suit was walking past and approached the taxi to see what was going on. He had great English and I explained to him the situation. He managed to get the driver to give in and I paid and got out. I said thanks to the man, he seemed like a nice guy. As I turned around to put my keys in the door I felt a massive blow to my head. The man had hit me with something and was dragging me towards a car. It was weird. I am a big girl, and he was a small man, but he seemed to drag me as if I was as light as a feather. He must’ve knocked me out because I can’t remember being in a car at all. But I do remember him pulling me out of it and we were in an underground car park. I was screaming but it was as if there was nobody else in the world. He dragged me into a lift. He kept punching me over and over and smashing my head off the walls. It didn’t feel sore. I was totally numb. When the lift doors opened I wrapped my arms around the bars so he couldn’t pull me but he managed to untangle me so easily. I couldn’t understand how he was so strong. He was pulling me by the hair along a dark corridor when I managed to break free. I ran and ran, with a sudden burst of adrenaline, and started calling my friend. He answered just as the man caught up with me. My friend must have been terrified. He must’ve heard everything. The man then smashed my head off a wall and I fell over. Then he climbed on top of me and started to strangle me. I fought him for so long but eventually I stopped. I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted it to be over. I passed out. When I woke up I was in the same place. The man was gone. So was my phone. I don’t know why he left me there but I didn’t wait around to find out if he was coming back. Maybe he thought I was dead and ran away. I didn’t care. I knocked on loads of doors but nobody answered. In a panic I managed to find a nurse’s station or something. I hid under the bed in there for a few hours, scared that if I tried to leave the building the man would see me. At about five in the morning I decided to make my break and ran as fast as I could out of the place. A couple found me on the street and put me in a taxi back to the flat. I never told the police. I don’t want to sound racist, but he looked like so many other Korean men. He was average height with black hair and dark eyes. And the building looked like so many others in the city. I had been in such a rush to get away that I hadn’t looked around for any sign of where I was. Two days later both me and my friend left Korea. We might’ve stayed if it wasn’t for the fact that the man had accosted me right from my friend’s front door. We couldn’t take the chance that he might come back.
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