06-27-2014, 03:42 AM
Despite the lull and stillness that she got from the Quiet Man, Melanie was certain that she hated him. His peaceful demeanor was a façade—she didn’t need her abilities for that. She definitely did not want to talk to him. I don’t need to, actually. She glanced over at him. All I have to do is touch him. She glanced at Matthew. If I got so sick from touching Matthew, I can only imagine what will happen when I touch him.
She didn’t trust herself with the option. There was too much touching done today. She thought having experiencing death with someone was something that she could get used to with time, but each time it was different, and each time she was in danger of causing death herself. I’m too damn weak to be doing this again so soon. She turned away from the Quiet Man.
Matthew seemed to guess her thoughts. He grabbed her arm, holding her in place in case she decided to go against her own logic. Melanie’s eyes flashed amber for a second. The touching, at least, got easier with each go. I don’t want to talk to him, she said to him mentally. Matthew’s eyes shifted to hers for a moment. Another ability that he had read about in her file, but didn’t truly believe until now. Matthew shifted, putting himself squarely between the Quiet Man and herself. He raised his arm, holding their last remaining gun.
“Really?” he replied. “Wonder why I doubt that. Drop all your weapons.”
|