Love is Evil

Distress of a Damsel

•Y/N: Your Name
•L/N: Last Name

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Your POV:
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An exhausted puff of air passed my glossed lips as I trudged across Alark's Bridge over the wide expanse of the city's river that cut the metropolis into two parts. My apartment lies just on the other side, in the West District. I had no choice but to cross it, following the footpath alongside the road of speeding cars, separated only by a short concrete wall. Not my normal way home, nor would I ever recommend it unless you found yourself in a similar situation as me.

Only a day has passed since the incident at the coffee shop, and already I've become the city's center of attention. All day I've had to deal with numerous questions from the press regarding the robbery and my experience with being so close to the hero. I wasn't the only one bombarded with inquiries. My coworkers, boss, and usual customers were also questioned. Anyone who knew me. I seemed to be the only one actively avoiding any of it. I'm not one to make a spectacle of myself, so I spent most of my day dodging reporters and nosey nobodies who couldn't catch a hint.

Why was I targeted? Apparently, one of the hostages managed to film the robbery when it was in process. It went viral, and my popularity skyrocketed because I was saved by Herald, plus he kissed my hand. Oh, the press went wild over that. Don't even get me started on the gossip that arose from that small act of innocent kindness. Honestly, why do people make such a big deal out of nothing? I couldn't blame Herald for it. I'm sure he didn't mean for all this to happen, but nonetheless, I'm left to suffer for it. I can't turn my head anywhere without seeing my face plastered on an advertisement screen or newspaper with titles and captions that almost made me tempted to throw myself off this bridge.

"Who is this mysterious girl? Could it be possible Herald had found love?"

All day, I wanted nothing more than to do home to get away from it all only to find the paparazzi crowding my car, waiting for the chance to speak to me. They already found out where I work. Last thing I need is for them to find out where I live too, so I hopped on a train that took me to the closest stop. The one crossing the bridge would go too far, so I had no choice but to continue on foot from there. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my car back tomorrow. The passing cars were all a blur as I buried my face into the soft collar of my coat, which I had zipped all the way up to block out the cold. I was glad I picked a warm one today.

Winter's on its way for sure, early too. It's only the middle of fall. The weather was only made worse by the night air and my proximity to the water. At least it's not raining. Rubbing my arms, I looked up at the sky. No one in the city saw the night sky the same after Saros appeared. Those distant sparkles amongst the darkness were only a reminder of the dangerous threat hanging over Wallowdale. I shivered, recalling the encounter at the café. It might've been brief, but his presence was enough to petrify me. He was just a face on a screen before, but it was nothing compared to the reality. I heard he escaped yesterday, which means he's still at large. Who knows when he'll strike again?

Uneasy, I focus back on the path ahead, finally off the bridge. The apartment is only a few blocks away now. Once I made it there, I took the elevator to the third floor, too tired to bother with stairs. My legs are too weak. In my home, I lock my door and leave my bag on the coffee table before rummaging through it to find the book I started reading yesterday.