<div style="text-align: justify;">Missie could never imagine exactly what was going on inside Marcel’s mind. Even if she had been better at reading people, she would not have been able to figure out what Marcel felt. Simply because he wasn’t a person, per se. He was something else. How would she have defined him? That Missie didn’t know. Maybe as a monster, if she had never met him. A murderer, if she didn’t believe she was treading in a world she had never before seen. There was something within his eyes that Missie could define as him being a tormented man, but she was afraid to ask questions. Those questions might upset Marcel. Or open a door she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.<br/><br/>Watching while Marcel moved away from her, Missie could notice the tension in his posture. She felt her heart race, a rush of adrenaline. That little voice in her head that screamed in moments of danger repeated “run, run, run”. But she knew there was nowhere to run. She knew that running would only get her killed faster. <br/><br/>Feeling a cold fear creep inside her heart, Missie fell to a heap on the floor, her legs giving in before she could catch herself. She sat there helplessly, if only for a moment, before standing up and moving again. She also needed a place where she could be alone. She needed to shake that feeling of being watched. Deciding to look around for Damian, she looked around and tried to make her way back to Marcel’s chambers, wondering if he might be there. She needed to start acting. Now. And maybe her first and best bet should be Damian. He knew everything about that place and had more self-control than Marcel, after all.</div>