I sat stiffly in the defendant's chair, staring blankly ahead as my lawyer pleaded for my sentence to be reduced.
But the final judgement came quickly as the judge's gavel struck down on the sound block, silencing the soft murmurs.
"Ms. Hera Flores, this court, having considered the evidence presented, finds you guilty of driving under the influence, reckless endangerment, and damage to public property.
"You are to pay three hundred thousand dollars in restitution. Your driving license is revoked effective today. And you will serve one hundred hours of community service.
"You have a really promising future, young lady. I suggest you carefully reflect on your behaviour. The court is adjourned."
It felt like I was in a fever dream. I didn't even know when my vision began to blur, and tears rolled down my face.
The murmurs turned into a raging cacophony of sounds, the gasps of those present and their voiced scorns.
As I walked outside with my mother beside me, the cameras flashed like lightning. She whispered to me, "You must say something to the press."
"Do as I say," Mom said, her stiff gaze hiding her immense disappointment in me.
I wiped my tears quickly and said to the awaiting reporters who rushed at me, unable to even look at the camera. "I am really sorry to the people who my actions hurt. I am really, really sorry. Please forgive me…"
Online, there was only one narrative against me:
— Of course, she is crying. Despite being a b*tch, I guess she's also quite the actress.
— She's only sorry because she doesn't want her actions to ruin Elysian's next album.
— I lost my brother to a reckless driving, and the drunk driver was found innocent. I'm glad she's facing justice. I just wish she had gotten some jail time. I hate Hera so much now.
— She thinks because she's rich and famous, she can do anything.
Just look at them, all vying to tear me apart, even for things that had nothing to do with me. I thought they loved me.
I kept my phone down and stared outside the window of the car. Even my mother didn't want to look at me anymore.
After, the headlines spread across the internet.
"Famous Rising Idol and Actress Found Guilty!"
"Movie Sequel 'True Blue 2' Recalls Cast to Redo Scenes to Reduce Hera's Time On Screen!"
"Nation's Sweetheart Turns Nation's Shame."
My group's fan pages were filled with venom. Comments filled with scorn were spread as if they'd been waiting years for this moment.
— I knew she was always fake.
— Drunk driving? She deserves jail.
— Lol. Watch her crawl back with a sob story for us to like her again.
I thought it couldn't get any worse, but my agency released a statement the day after the verdict saying, "Effective immediately, Hera Flores has been removed from our company and from the girl group Elysian. We do not condone such behaviour."
I called Demeter and Hestia, my elder sisters, to help plead on my behalf, but they said I brought this upon myself and told me to just accept how things were now.
"…and to be honest, we might be better off without you in the group," Demeter said before hanging up the phone.
We were about to release our second album, the one projected to launch us to global heights. I worked hard on it the most, wrote most of the songs, and poured my soul into bringing our vision to life. And now, I was a liability, so I was discarded.
It felt like the walls were closing in on me. I had never felt so small. Why were they so quick to all turn on me and hate me? Was I such a horrible person?
The day after the verdict, home wasn't any kinder.
Her mother's face was like stone. "You brought disgrace to this family, Hera."
"Mom, please tell me you're not being serious. You can see what is happening to me. I need you."
"No. What you need is to understand that actions have consequences. I always advised you, always kept you closer, even more than your sisters. You know it hurts me more to have to do this.
The suitcase landed on the porch with a dull thud.
"You're no longer welcome under this roof until you take responsibility for yourself."
"Mom, please—" I begged.
However, my pleas fell on deaf ears as the door shut in my face.
Debt consumed my life in the week that followed. The court fines piled high, my sponsors demanded reimbursement, and my bank account bled dry. I had been owing my agency for the advance I was given for the album, but now that my contract was terminated, I had to pay them back. With no career left and living in a rented one-bedroom apartment, I picked up a part-time job at a convenience store.
But then… photos of me in uniform leaked online.
Instead of sympathy, the media spun it into another round of insults:
"Disgraced Idol Playing Poor to Gain Pity."
"Hera's Convenience Store Cosplay."
I wanted to scream and tear the world apart.
But all I could do was swallow my pride and survive.
However, the final blow came on television.
My boyfriend — the superstar everyone adored, known as "Lowkey" — appeared on a primetime interview. He smiled and dazzled the audience, but when asked about me, he only gave a practiced chuckle.
"I don't wish to be associated with her anymore. Please respect my privacy."
My eyes blurred once again. After weeks of attempts to reach him, hoping he could beg the agency on my behalf and give me more time for my debt, this was what I saw online.
I had sent him dozens of messages. All were unanswered. All were ignored.
The internet exploded again against me:
— Lowkey deserves better!
— She tried to drag him down too.
— What a manipulative girl.
— She's probably a chronic cheater. It's good he dumped her.
What hurt me the most, though, was that I was innocent.
I told them I only had one non-alcoholic drink that night and my cup was most likely spiked, but no one wanted to hear my side of the story.
I wish I had died in that crash. Even hell wouldn't be this harsh.
It was raining the evening my strength finally gave out.
I stood at the edge of a high-rise building, my soaked clothing clinging to my skin. Neon lights blurred with the tears in my eyes. Down below, the city buzzed uncaringly — cars, umbrellas, and endless traffic.
No one would even notice if I were gone.
"Why… Why me?" I cried into my hands.
I stepped forward and let my foot take me forward.
'I don't want to die… but I can't live like this anymore.'
I fell, and the air rushed past my face.
…But instead of falling, my body floated.
'Huh?' My eyes widened in alarm, and my heart pounded in terror as I kept on rising, not downward to my death, but upward into the clouds.
I gasped and flailed, yet an unseen force held me aloft.
"I… I'm flying?" My voice broke with disbelief. "Why am I—?!"
Suddenly, in a flash, the storm clouds parted.
And there he was.
A man with eyes like molten gold, and hair white as a cloud, clad in a slightly oversized white dress shirt with partly folded arms and dark blue trousers. His top buttons were open, revealing part of his broad and defined chest.
'Wait, how is he flying too?' I wondered as he looked at me with curiosity.
But then, I began to fall for real. And he quickly caught me, holding me up like in those trashy knight and princess stories.
"Well, well," he murmured, voice smooth as thunder rolling across the sky.
"I wondered what was disturbing my skies tonight."
His gaze swept over my soaked frame and lingered like a flame.
He flashed a smile that made me forget how to breathe for a second and sighed.
"Never in my wildest dream, did I expect it to be such a beautiful young miss," he said.