Autumn is beautiful here- in the middle of nowhere. The breeze is a bit cold though.
The breeze gets colder when someone's watching you.
There's eleven of us living in White Halo Manor. Day in, day out, we live the same day, every day, in glorious...
Sitting on the concrete, ten metres from the doors of the manor, like usual at ten o'clock at night. Her black hair blows lightly in the breeze, touching her narrow waist. The skirt of her white dress is draped across her thighs and the floor. She doesn't appear cold, the skin on her arms isn't riddled with goosebumps and she doesn't look uncomfortably still.
Her nose scrunches for a second as her eyes narrow on something in the forest. Tension fills her posture. It leaves as quickly as it came. A diamond shaped face and heart shaped lips, with a beauty mark above her full upper lip. She looks fragile, breakable. Her shoulders aren't wide, and she's slender with prominent shoulder blades.
But one look in her eyes takes it all away. You can spot the dark glint in her eyes from a mile away. Her dark eyes, framed by her long thick lashes, are nearly soulless. The reports say so far she's been more harmless than the rest but nothing about Zoya Yadav feels harmless to me.
She runs a thumb over the long jagged scar that stretches over the inside of her forearm. Read that in the reports too, but it was just a log of physical appearances so we could identify them. How she got it is unknown. Even in her medical reports.
No wonder it healed like that if her goddamn carer didn't even get it checked out. I run my tongue over the edge of my teeth, soothing my agitation and lean back in my seat with one arm stretched across the desk, fingers hovering over the controls. I glance over the surveillance technology we have here.
Half a million dollars has been invested into this small mediocre room, which is actually a shed with special locks, and you wouldn't even expect it. It's filled with the newest and most advanced tech worldwide and I've yet to figure out the ins and outs of manipulating it to my needs.
My other hand rests near my waist on the handgun, which is part of the whole uniform. I've already disassembled and reassembled it a rough seven times in the last hour.
Surveillance duty, you could say, is painfully boring.
Everybody else is downstairs, enjoying their time off duty. It is extremely enviable. Whilst I'd rather subject myself to the firing squad than have a conversation with my own squad, who behave as though they are frat idiots in college, downstairs, I'm beginning to believe anything is better than watching these motionless screens.
Just a few more months. Just a few more months then this place is over and I can go back to my regular line of work.
If my little brother thinks I'm stable enough.
The thought of him denying me makes me grind my jaw. You can never hide anything from the bastard, not even a personal letter from a psychiatrist diagnosing you with PTSD.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force the string of memories out of my head.
Just a few more months.
After joining this place a year ago, time has never been slower. I wasn't even going to take this role but then I found out my brother had already recommended me.
And with my black ops and military background, they adored me.
I catch sudden movement in the corner of my eye, making me look up at the screen that I was looking at before. Where Six was.
She's standing tall, her bare long legs on show and dress fluttering in the wind. On camera she doesn't seem that tall, but according to our latest records she's five foot six, one foot shorter than me.
My lips twitch. Would she even reach my chin? I force the pointless and irrelevant questions pertaining to her away and focus again.
Holding a rock in her left hand that doesn't look one bit smooth, she rubs her thumb over it continuously.
I look closer at the screen, trying to gauge what has caught her dark attention. But it's so fucking hard to focus because I can't stop staring at her.
I can't stop staring at her.
My entire body stills, containing the wave of rage that crashes against the perimeters of my body, threatening to spill.
I can't stop fucking staring at her. I haven't been able to since i saw her ten months ago.
My vision blackens around the edges before I grip the handle of my gun and steady myself, allowing the delicate waters of my mind to level out.
This isn't good. This is terrible. Evenmore so because I can't find a single reason why it's wrong.
I come to this conclusion everytime I do this, and fuck, if it doesn't get easier I'm going to be put behind bars for fucking the favourite.
Exhaling, I stand up and without looking back at the screen I walk to the door and hesitate, one hand resting above the door frame.
Is she still outside? The question tumbles through my mind like a drunk man searching for his next drink.
When I can't hold back anymore, I look over my shoulder and see her there still. Its fucking devastating how beautiful she is.
And like that, my ten month long resistance snaps.
♔
-so...him. his name is yet to be revealed -thoughts?
sayonara my lil dreamers :)
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