Act I- Scene II: "You are Now being Televised"☎︎
With barely just a tug, the door's entry latch clicked and settled shut. Standing on the open porch of the apartment, my gloved hands gripped the leather straps of the bag that was tossed around my shoulder. Before I left, I was glad to have found an appropriately sized wool jacket and a red scarf to keep me warm in this freezing weather, along with some other clothes to help me for when the seasons change. Just in case I wouldn't be able to find a place till then.
More importantly, it's imperative that these clothes keep me concealed. Eventually, someone will notice the permeating smell of a rotten corpse or the late rent and call the police to investigate and I wouldn't want anyone recognizing me when that day arrives.The herd of honking street cars kept my mind on track— keeping me focused with what's most important now, which was finding a stable place to stay. If it wasn't obvious before, it was certainly apparent now, with how many streets, shops, and apartments there were, that I was undoubtedly nestled within the deep districts of a large city. The transient cluster of people pushed and talked— talked and pushed without any real concern as to whom they bumped into. Normally, given my height difference— I too would have been a victim of such an encounter, but thankfully I was much smaller than their elbows could reach.
I sauntered past them, hoping to see the many doors and closed windows that neglected the frigid weather biting away at their sills. It was loud, not something I really appreciated, but dealt with anyways, despite finding the many noises ear splitting.Back home, I always relished the feeling of my quiet house. Although that too could be quite loud at times, it was a type of loudness that I preferred. No violent horns, no rude pedestrians, and certainly no rowdy neighbors. I may have been a freelance writer that got worlds of fame, but you could not find my studio in the streets of New York like everyone else's. No— sir, you would find me in the beating heart of an open suburban field.
"Hey— watch it you little brat!"
An older guy shouted, presumably at me. Regretfully, I must've been dwelling about home to the point that I hadn't been watching where I stepped. 'How clumsy of me.'
Even after apologizing though, it seemed that the middle-aged man wasn't having it. "You're sorry? Damn right you should be sorry! Gotham ain't no place for a boneheaded pest such as yourself, you stupid scamp!" Man did this guy go off, the groups of people that were once moving with us had started to go around, throwing us into a spotlight of sorts. Though it was rather short-lived as he stomped off into yet another crowd, never to be seen again. 'What a violent old codger. Hopefully, I won't have to see him again.' But did he say Gotham?
That name definitely sounded familiar, and if I'm right (which, let's be honest, I usually am), then that would mean I might be in some serious trouble.Gotham, from what I could remember, was a violently depicted city brimming with crime in a fictional comic series I had read for fun when I was a little girl. The comic was about a rich man that was so obsessed with putting an end to misdemeanors that he became a vigilante for the city and a beacon of light for its citizens. It's almost nostalgic knowing that I'm in the same place that I had read in a story from when I was younger. If only it hadn't been for the unforgettable fact that I was lodged into that same place, unaware of when and how I would get home.
'I'll be damned. I actually can't believe this, hell, it'd be impossible to.' If I could go back and tell my younger self this insane story, even she'd think I'd gone mental.
But, I suppose this isn't the time to be thinking such things. Now that I have an idea of where I am, it's even more crucial that I find some place to stay, and fast (who knows what would happen to a little girl out in the streets of what might as well be the city version of Snake Island).
YOU ARE READING
Platonic Yandere BatFamily x Child Reader
Hayran KurguY/n L/n, the name of a renowned and famous literary scholar. She produced works of confectionery literature and was recognized for her astounding achievements, but most of all, created a name for herself. Then again, I suppose that doesn't matter wh...