06-24-2014, 06:40 PM
Melanie felt his presence before she heard him. There was animalistic rage coupled with a stillness that unnerved her. She turned in his direction, her mind and gaze pinpointing where he was. Though she felt his presence, he was quiet. No emotions battering her, no thoughts bombarding her mind. She tried to get more, pushing her mind, searching for something.
The man beside her must’ve guessed something of her abilities, because he caught her gaze then followed it. With a growl, he shoved her back taking a gun that was hidden god knows where, pointing it at the direction Melanie was looking. His hand skimmed her bare arm, and Melanie knew immediately that he had no barriers. With a gasp, she fell back, reliving his life, from when he was born, to all the crucial moments of his life. There was war. Sweltering heat and humidity of a jungle. Death. So much death. Needles. Electricity. Excruciating pain. There were well-dressed men. Melanie gasped for air. She recognized once of them. He opened his mouth to speak when, suddenly, a barrier went up, pushing her out as quick as she was thrown in. Melanie was on the ground, trying to catch her breath.
Terror filled the air. She remembered the other three survivors. They had heard the words and registered exactly what they meant. Their barriers fell as their fear took over, pounding at her, invading her, and nearly taking over her body. She realized then that the stillness of the man who had just threatened them had lulled her into a sense of security. For once there was a person who was quiet—and because of that, her barriers fell. She pushed herself up, feeling a headache come on as she rebuilt her barriers and pushed against the emotions that threatened to suffocate her. She fought for control and struggled to stand up.
The Navy SEAL, named Matthew as she had discovered with the visions, cursed, taking two shots. She saw the look on his face. He knew he messed up. He knew about her. But why was he keeping her safe? The headache intensified as she made her barriers stronger. Two men who knew how to be quiet, one who could kill, and one who wanted to? Melanie mentally cursed as she stepped backward towards the group, hoisting the bag of supplies over her shoulder, and gripping both guns in her hands.
“We have to get out of here!” the middle aged woman said, tears streaming down her face. Even with the barriers, her sadness and fear invaded her.
“What’s going on? Is this a joke?!” yelled the other man. He turned to Melanie. “Give me one.”
He gestured to the gun. Melanie had a feeling that he didn’t know how dangerous the situation actually was.
“Can you shoot?”
“Who gives a damn? Someone is trying to kill us!” He grabbed one anyways, skimming her hand, and pulling it from her. Melanie’s eyes flashed amber for a second as his life flashed through her and his anger course through her. His name was Chase. He was wealthy and spoiled. But he was an alcoholic, and he had anger issues. Domestic violence towards his girlfriend, who left him recently. He was angry now that someone dared to threaten his life.
“Don’t be too rash.”
“Shut the hell up, stupid girl! If we don’t kill him, he will kill us!”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she pushed, failing to reason with him.
A hand came up to slap her, and before Melanie could do anything about it, Matthew was suddenly there, throwing Chase to the ground. He was angry too. “Don’t you dare hit her again,” he growled, ignoring Chase demanding to know what his problem was.
Shit, Melanie thought. As good as Matthew was, his concentration had broken in that split second, his gun no longer trained on where the quiet man was.
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