Perfect (Rewrite)

Chapter Sixty Eight

"Where are you taking me?" Melanie asked as a guard pushed her down the hallway in a wheelchair. He didn't give her an answer. "What are you going to do to me?" She pulled up with her arms, but they didn't budge. Even the wheelchair had restraints to keep her exactly where they wanted her, always one step ahead. They turned a corner, and she swung her hip. The chair slammed into the wall and so did the guard. The straps still kept her bound, tightly, to the chair.

He bopped her over the head with his palm, which didn't hurt much, yet she still gave the so needed complaint. "Stop causing problems."    

The hallway grew shorter, a light blue door at the end of it. Even before they reached it, Melanie knew this was their destination. The other doors didn't call to her like this one did.

They stopped at the door, and he slid past her to open up the room. An operation room, the kind found in any ordinary hospital. A bed in the middle, counters on either sides of the rooms, tools sitting on a small metal wheeled tray next to the patient bed. "What are you going to do to me?' Melanie repeated. Still, only dead air answered her.

Slowly, the restraints on her were undone, but she didn't fight him. Not yet, it wasn't time. Melanie waited patiently until the last one came off and he circled around again to retrieve her from the chair. She stuck her leg out and tripped him; then Melanie ran out of the room back in the direction she had come. Her heart pounded and so did the red lights flashing above her. They knew where she was going; they knew her every move before she made them. There was nowhere safe to go. Melanie was a rat running through the maze, trying to find the cheese hidden among the trap.

She turned the corner and was confronted by three guards. Three options. Option one, fight her way through. Option two, turn around and run. Option three, concede. The only problem was giving up wasn't really an option, it was defeat. Melanie wasn't going down without a fight, but she also knew the odds weren't in her favor. They were stronger than her, faster than her, possibly smarter than her.

She sidestepped back into the other hallway and entered the closest room, hoping the guards would overlook it as the obvious choice. The room behind her was dark, cold, quiet, too quiet. Melanie flicked the switch on the wall beside her, discovering her new found chamber was a laundry room. A laugh escaped her throat and then she covered her lips with her fingers, waited until it was safe to make her next move.

She reached into one of the large bins and grabbed a suit, the kind the guards wore. Melanie needed to blend in. She slipped on the shirt and had to get a new pair of pants. The first ones waist was a perfect fit but they were three inches too long, no one normally sized could've worn them, but she didn't have time to argue with herself. Melanie pulled up the new pants and slid a black belt through the black loops. Black had always been her color.

Then the mask came on. It made the air heavier and harder to take in, but she knew it was impossible to leave the room without one on. Everyone knew what she looked like. Everyone would be searching for her. Melanie glanced back at the door. She hadn't even heard footsteps yet. Were they not chasing her?

An actual happy thought filled her mind for only a second, I'm going to escape. She regretted it immediately. Chloe hadn't gotten to her; she'd given her false hope, and that was a dangerous gift to hand out. The lights went out with a flick of her finger. Melanie exited the room and calmly walked down the hall, passed a few guards, and turned another corner. So far so good, no one suspected a thing.

Someone grabbed her shoulder, and Melanie looked back. "What are you doing?" The man asked her, but she didn't have an answer to give.

"I-I," She stumbled over her words, trying to think of a good enough excuse to buy herself time.

"There's a meeting," He said, turning her back around and leading her down the hall. "Attendance is required."