It was late when Dr. Hollande left work for home. She was beat, having to deal with every news team that New York and every other major city could toss at her, as well as manage her appointments.
She left through the back alleyway, knowing that no press pass could reach her there, and slid into the drivers seat of her car. It wasn't anything fancy, just a car that she enjoyed.
Driving down the streets of the city that never slept, she was nervous that the passers-by might see and recognize her. With her face plastered all over every source of media, it made her an easy target for societies finger of blame.
It was things like this that made her feel like the criminal. Or the accomplice, at least. If only these people knew half the torment that she felt by her actions.
But was it torment really? She had to admit, a tiny bit of her enjoyed this publicity, this act of saving a murderers life. It honestly felt like she was his accomplice, and that same tiny bit of her that wanted to take him home and keep him, wanted to join him.
No, it was completely irrational. The good girl falling in love with the bad boy was so typical, but never rational. He was a psychotic killer, plain and simple. She was a doctor.
Scum like him were what gave people like her a job . Both on different sides of the world, and they both made the world go round.
What a team they would make.
She finally reached her apartment in the Highlands. It was a relief to see her home unscathed by the paparazzi. She pulled into the deserted parking garage beneath the complex and examined the area around her. The garage was quiet and empty, apart from the few parked cars scattered throughout.
She took a heavy breath, reminding herself that she would soon be home. Stepping cautiously from her car, she made her way slowly to the well lit elevator doors. It was only after pressing the button did she find a sense of relief.
"I've waited for you for quite some time now." came a deep and husky voice from the shadows of the garage.
Dr. Hollande started to run.