Octagon Project 1: Melody Halloway

~-4-~

"Are those the scars he was talking about?" Zack asked as he leaned against the doorframe to Mel's new room. He had to admit, Jacob and Abigail did a pretty good job on it as far as matching her personality went. The door was in the center of one wall and the bed was pushed into the far back corner with a small ebony nightstand that had an alarm clock and reading lamp on top of it. The bedsheets were a dark grey just like the wall on his left that had a shelf and a dresser holding up a large, darkly framed mirror. The carpet was the same beige as in the hallway and other rooms. Much like a lot of the rooms in this house, there wasn't a window. Which would be helpful if she ever tried to escape, they'd be able to hear her walk out the front door.

Mel spun around quickly, pulling the black tank top Abigail set out for her down over her torso. Zack stepped in with his head down and placed the sky-blue towels he was holding on her bed. Mel watched him with narrow eyes.

"Just thought I'd let you know, that as much as we may both disagree with the idea, you're my new partner. I'd fill you in on the rest of the details, but I'll let you get some sleep first."

"I don't sleep." Mel quickly informed him.

"Welcome to the club." Zack answered with a sigh. "I'll let you get accustomed then. The rest of the group will be back late, so don't bother with them too much if you're still up." He left and Mel looked around the room before looking down at her black pants, tank top, and combat boots. She plopped down onto the edge of the bed and rested both of her elbows on her knees, flipping Zack's dagger that she pickpocketed from him earlier in between her fingers. The clothes and bed were comfortable, but her mind wasn't. She was thinking about Kaylee and her parents, and what was going to happen when the news of her 'death' got around. The guy in charge, McHall, agreed not to touch them so long as she complied with the agency, and also agreed to not give them the unrest of believing that she was kidnapped again. So, they were going to fake her death in a car accident on the road towards home.

Just like every night for the past three years, Mel didn't sleep. Peeking her head outside the white room door at the start of the hallway, she looked over to see that the dim light in the kitchen and living room were on. Walking out in her black tank top, black pants, and socks, she saw a pot of freshly made coffee with a clean mug next to it.

"Trying to run away?" A deep and groggy voice asked. Mel spun around quickly, tossing the dagger she had kept with her. It stuck into the wall inches away from the head of a tall, very muscular guy with tan skin and hazel eyes. His dark brown hair was shortly cropped but still messy from sleep. Grabbing the dagger out of the wall, he put it down on the white tile counter, looking at her. "Nice aim." He commented. Mel stared at him with large eyes. He wore a tight black tank top, much like hers and a pair of grey basketball shorts that had a blue streak on the sides.

"You're-" She began.

"From the track, yeah." He finished her sentence, nodding. Mel shook her head a couple of times, clearing her thoughts. "We'd been watching you for a little while to get to know your schedule." He added, grabbing a white mug and pouring a cup of coffee before opening a top cupboard near him and grabbing another cup, filling that one too and placing one in front of Mel on the island counter that the dagger was sitting at the end of. "We were told you were a highly skilled individual, so we had to stake you out to make it easier for us." Slowly, she sat down on one of the four wooden bar stools that surrounded the tiled island counter and held the mug up towards her face; allowing the familiar smell and warmth to comfort her. "Were you actually trying to run away?" He asked, leaning on the counter with his elbows, looking at her curiously.

"No. " Mel answered.

"Why are you up then?"

"I don't sleep." She answered dryly, wondering why in the world he cared so much.